The name echoes in my head.
Victor Salazar.
For a moment, the rooftop disappears.
Because I remember him. Not clearly. But enough.
Tall. Controlled. Always dressed in dark suits. The man who stood at the end of the boardroom table after the crash, speaking calmly about corporate stability.
Marcus breaks the silence first. “You’re telling me Victor Salazar ordered the hit?”
Margaret shrugs slightly. “I’m telling you he had the most to gain.”
Adrian’s expression is colder than I’ve ever seen it. “That’s not proof.”
“No,” Margaret agrees. “But it’s a pattern.”
The rain keeps falling around us.
Marcus rubs the back of his neck. “Let’s rewind.” He points toward Margaret. “You’re saying Salazar wanted Adrian dead.”
“Yes.”
“And when the crash erased Alessa’s memory…”
“He adjusted the
