CHAPTER FIFTY-SEVEN
The next morning at Nivida, the air carried an unspoken weight. Word hadn’t spread to the staff about the car or the note, but Briella, Marcellus, and Christopher moved through the office like players on a stage where every curtain hid a threat.
Briella sat in her office, the anonymous message resting on her desk, weighed down by a paperweight as if pinning it could rob it of its menace. Her eyes kept drifting back to it.
Clara entered briskly with a file, her tone businesslike. “The reports you asked for, ma’am.”
“Leave them,” Briella said, not looking up immediately. Only when the door clicked shut behind her did she exhale.
Moments later, Marcellus strode in, his energy sharp. “I spoke to security again. The car disappeared before we could tow it in. Whoever sta
