Rhea should have seen it coming.
The morning was too quiet. The office too still. Even the air smelled different, like the moment before a storm cracks open the sky.
She was at her desk, flipping through files, when the first alert hit. A sharp ping from her phone. Then another. And another.
Heart thudding, she pulled it up.
Anonymous tip-offs.
Doctored records.
Altered photos.
All tied to a name she thought she had buried years ago — Aurora Quinn.
Her hand froze on the phone. She stared, willing the screen to lie to her, to glitch, to erase the truth staring back.
It didn’t.
Across the floor, the buzz started. People whispering behind coffee cups, exchanging glances over laptops. They didn’t have the full story yet. But they would. Naomi had made sure of that.
Rhea forced herse
