I knew something was different the moment I woke up. The house was too quiet—not the heavy silence of anger, but a sharpened quiet, like the stillness before lightning splits the sky.
Daniel hadn’t come to bed last night. The sheets on his side were untouched, his pillow still cool. I sat up, clutching the blanket around me, and listened. Somewhere below, faint sounds drifted upward: the steady rhythm of movement, drawers opening, the rustle of paper.
Daniel was awake.
And Daniel was planning.
The Study
I found him in his study.
The desk lamp cast a pool of light over his sharp features, his tie loosened, his sleeves rolled up. He looked almost calm, but the papers spread across his desk told another story. Documents. Contracts. Bank statements. And among them, the envelope—the photo
