Nobody spoke.
The security officer stood stiffly near the doorway while thunder rolled outside the windows, and for one long, impossible moment Vivian genuinely thought she had misheard him.
Clara Whitmore.
Alive?
That made no sense.
Because Damien had said—
No.
Not said.
Implied.
Car accident.
Death.
Buried investigation.
Vivian slowly looked toward Damien.
His face had gone completely still.
Not shocked.
Not relieved.
Something worse.
Like a man watching the past drag itself back from the grave.
“What exactly did he say?” Damien asked quietly.
The security officer swallowed hard.
“He came in asking to speak with someone regarding Clara Whitmore. Said he had information.”
Roman stepped closer slightly.
“A man?”
“Yes, sir.”
“What information?” Vivian asked quickly.
