I held the folder up between us.
Julian stood in the doorway, one hand still on the handle, eyes fixed on the worn edges of the file like he already knew every page inside it.
“Why do you have this?” I asked.
He stepped fully into the room and closed the door. The lock clicked softly behind him.
“Put it down, Ivy.”
“No.” My voice came out steadier than I felt. “You have pictures of my parents I have never seen. You have reports from the night they died. You have notes on every person who has ever protected me. I want to know why.”
He walked past me to the desk and set his keys down with deliberate care. When he turned, his face had gone carefully blank.
“It is not that simple.”
“Make it simple.”
“I cannot.”
I stepped closer and dropped the folder on the desk between us. The photo
