The Fox penthouse had its own kind of silence. Not the comfortable kind, not the one that lets your mind rest. It was the kind that carried weight, that held too many secrets inside its walls and whispered them to anyone dumb enough to stand still long enough to listen. I'd been inside enough times to know when something felt off.
This time, it did. The text had been simple. From a number I didn't recognize, but I knew exactly who it was before I even opened it. We need to meet. Without him. And maybe I should have ignored it. Maybe I should have just pretended I didn't see it, because every instinct in me screamed that this was going to open a door I wasn't supposed to walk through. But I went anyway. Because curiosity was apparently a disease and I'd been terminal since the day I sa
