CHAPTER 1The Letter That Shouldn't Exist
"Dead people don't send letters."
Yet that was exactly what Ivy Carter held in her trembling hands.
The cream-colored envelope had no stamp, no return address, and no sender's name. It had simply appeared on her apartment doorstep before sunrise, as if someone had slipped it through the gap beneath the door while the city still slept.
Ivy frowned.
As an investigative journalist, anonymous tips weren't unusual. Most contained blurry photographs, half-true rumors, or desperate attempts to ruin someone's reputation.
This one felt different.
The paper was thick and expensive. The handwriting on the front was elegant and deliberate.
To Ivy Carter.
Open Alone.
A strange chill crawled up her spine.
She locked the apartment door before carefully breaking the seal.
Inside was only one photograph.
Nothing else.
No note.
No explanation.
Just a glossy picture of a glamorous woman standing beside billionaire Luca Moretti at a charity gala.
Ivy recognized them instantly.
The woman was Celeste Romano, Luca Moretti's fiancée, whose tragic death in a coastal car crash had dominated headlines exactly one year ago.
Everyone knew the story.
A luxury sports car.
A winding cliffside road.
A violent explosion.
No survivors.
The police had ruled it a tragic accident, and the case was closed within days.
Ivy stared at the photograph for a long moment before turning it over.
Her breath caught in her throat.
Her own face had been circled in thick red ink.
She wasn't standing beside the couple. She was in the background, holding a microphone while interviewing guests during the charity gala. It had been one of her first assignments as an intern. She barely remembered covering the event.
Someone had deliberately marked her.
Beneath the red circle, three words were written in neat cursive.
Find me first.
A loud knock echoed through the apartment.
Knock.
Knock.
Knock.
Three slow, deliberate knocks.
Silence followed.
Ivy's heartbeat quickened.
She slipped the photograph into a folder and walked carefully toward the door.
"Who is it?" she called.
No answer.
She looked through the peephole.
The hallway was empty.
Only a single black rose rested on the floor outside.
After waiting a few seconds, she unlocked the door and stepped out cautiously.
Beside the rose was another envelope.
She picked it up and looked around.
The hallway was deserted.
The elevator doors were closed.
No footsteps.
No voices.
Whoever had left the envelopes was already gone.
She opened the second envelope.
Inside was an old newspaper clipping.
BILLIONAIRE'S FIANCÉE DIES IN TRAGIC CRASH
Across the headline, someone had written in bold black ink,
They buried the wrong story.
A shiver ran through Ivy's body.
This wasn't a prank.
Someone wanted her to investigate.
And someone else wanted her frightened.
She hurried back inside, locked every lock on the door, and spread both envelopes across her dining table.
Her reporter's instincts immediately took over.
Why her?
Why now?
And why had Celeste Romano circled her face months before her supposed death?
None of it made sense.
She grabbed her phone and dialed her editor.
Ethan Brooks answered on the second ring.
"Please tell me you have a good reason for calling this early."
"I think someone wants me to reopen the Moretti case."
There was silence.
Then Ethan laughed.
"The billionaire's dead fiancée? Ivy, that story ended a year ago."
"I don't think it did."
She quickly explained the anonymous envelopes.
When she finished, Ethan's tone became serious.
"If this is real, you're stepping into dangerous territory."
"I know."
"The Moretti family has powerful enemies. Powerful friends too."
"I've handled difficult investigations before."
"Not like this."
Ivy looked at the photograph again.
The red circle around her face suddenly felt like a target.
"I have to know why she chose me."
Ethan sighed.
"Fine. Start digging. But be careful. The moment you involve Luca Moretti, your life is going to become very complicated."
After ending the call, Ivy slipped the photograph into her bag.
If answers existed, they would begin with one place.
The charity gala.
Someone there had seen something.
Someone knew why a dead woman had singled her out.
Across the street, a sleek black SUV sat quietly beneath the shade of an old oak tree.
Behind its heavily tinted window, a man lowered a pair of binoculars.
He had watched everything.
The envelopes.
The phone call.
Even the expression on Ivy's face when she saw the photograph.
He reached into his jacket and removed an identical copy.
This one had two faces circled in red.
One belonged to Ivy Carter.
The other belonged to Luca Moretti.
The man smiled.
"You're finally about to meet," he whispered.
"And once you do..."
"...there'll be no turning back."
End of Chapter 1.
