Dominic
Dawn broke over the French countryside with deceptive peacefulness—golden light spilling across the manicured gardens of our secure villa, birds greeting the morning with cheerful indifference to human concerns. I'd been awake for hours, reviewing security feeds and coordination reports from James' team while Emma slept fitfully beside me.
My tablet chimed softly with an encrypted message: Package secured. En route to location. ETA 0900.
Relief mingled with tension—the jewelry box and picture frame were safely retrieved from Nora's apartment, but until we confirmed they contained the evidence we sought, we remained in a defensive position against Robert's unknown plans.
Emma stirred beside me, instantly alert in the way that had become our shared habit since Paris. "News?" she
