Elena barely slept that night, replaying every word of Marcus's warning through Alexander's account, turning over the specific way he'd mentioned her, careful and pointed, a threat wrapped in concern the way Alexander always described him.
She found Alexander already awake when she came downstairs before dawn, sitting in the study with the desk lamp on, a fresh pot of coffee beside him that looked like it had already gone cold.
"You didn't sleep either," she said.
"Couldn't."
She sat across from him, noticing the papers spread out differently than before, not the shipping records or the shell company documents, but something new, personnel files, staff schedules, names Elena didn't recognize.
"What is this."
"Everyone with access to the manor grounds," Alexander said. "Staff, contrac
