A slow dawn light filtered through the penthouse's east-facing windows as Olivia stepped into the breakfast alcove carrying two steaming mugs of coffee. She found Alexander seated at the glass table, hands folded around his own mug, eyes distant. Between them lay a stack of files—the latest fire investigation reports he'd insisted on revisiting.
“Morning," she said softly, setting her mug in front of him.
He blinked and offered a half-smile. “Thank you." His voice was low, tinged with fatigue. “I didn't sleep much."
She slid into the chair opposite him. “I can imagine." She took a sip of her coffee. “I reviewed the files last night. There's a gap in the footage at the exact moment you say you woke up."
Alexander's brow furrowed. “I noticed." He tapped a page. “Here—your silhouette appe
