The silence after Miranda’s revelation was absolute, broken only by the low hum of the city through the triple-paned glass. Kaelan stared at the phone as if it had spoken in a forgotten tongue. Elara’s mind reeled, trying to reconcile the gentle man building a puzzle bridge with a strategic saboteur.
“He couldn’t have,” Kaelan finally said, his voice hollow. “His cognitive focus… he can’t even…”
“The access was simple,” Miranda cut in, her tone clinical, a defense against the horror. “A password he’d used for years. The file was labeled clearly: Liam Contingency. He wouldn’t have needed complex reasoning. Just rage, and a target.”
Elara pictured it: Liam, in a moment of clarity or deep confusion, sitting alone with a computer, digging through the digital grave of his father’s crimes. Fi
