The mansion felt colder that morning.
As though the walls themselves had sensed the shift.
Like something was unraveling—old loyalty, buried lies, all of it coming apart.
Mia stood at the edge of the library window, staring at the horizon while Lucas paced behind her. Neither had slept.
“We can’t go to the police,” he said.
“I know.”
“She’s too careful,” he added. “Too well-connected. If we try to take her down legally, she’ll twist the story.”
“She’ll make it look like I’m lying. Or crazy.”
Lucas nodded. “We have to be smarter. We need a plan.”
Mia turned. “Then let’s make one.”
They spent the day in silence—working, planning, pulling threads.
Lucas called an old contact in Prague, someone who’d once handled the digital cleanup for one of Roman Whitmore’s shell companies. Mia c
