The darkness in the archival closet was absolute and smelled of old paper, cedar, and power. Elara pressed herself against a cold metal filing cabinet, breathing a shallow, silent prayer. A few feet away, a sliver of light spilled from Charles’s phone flashlight as he rustled through a drawer.
Her eyes adjusted. The space was narrow, lined with drawers and shelves holding slim, ominous boxes. The red leather folio Liam had described sat on a central table, gleaming dully in the glancing light. Singapore.
Charles muttered to himself, the sound a low growl in the confined space. “Sentimental fools… think they can undermine decades of work…” He was looking for something else, his back to her and the folio.
This was her only chance.
She had to move. Now.
Silent as a shadow, she edged alon
