The Daughter, the Flash Drive, and the Truth
Rain tapped lightly against the windowpanes of Noah’s study, but inside, everything felt still — too still.
He sat in silence, the fire crackling in the hearth behind him. His memories had been coming back in sharp flashes—pieces of a life he once lived, of a woman he once loved, of betrayal… and loss. The images had begun to fill in like missing puzzle pieces, but something still didn’t add up.
And then came the knock at the door.
Isabella stood in the entryway, soaked from the drizzle, her makeup slightly smudged. She clutched a small flash drive in her hand like it was burning her skin.
“I need to talk to you,” she said. “And you need to listen.”
Noah studied her, unsure whether he felt anger, pity, or exhaustion.
“I’m listening.”
She
