Amara’s POV
The folder was a lead weight in the back of my closet, buried under a pile of cashmere sweaters I had never asked for. Every time I looked toward that corner of the room, I felt the phantom sting of a camera flash.
Serena and Julian didn’t want a conversation; they wanted a funeral. And they were tired of waiting for me to trip, so they decided to give me a push.
The text came at 2:00 PM from an unknown number.
“I have the original ledger from the loan shark your father used in '23. Meet me at the pier cafe in an hour if you want to buy the silence of the man holding it. Come alone, or the SEC gets a copy by dinner.”
My breath hitched. It was the "private loans." I knew it was a trap—the timing was too perfect, the threat too specific—but I couldn't risk it being real. If
