DOMINIC
Someone was cleaning the house. Anyone who knew too much was disappearing. We might be next.
I hired private security at six a.m. Ex-military types with cold eyes and weapons permits. They swept my penthouse for bugs, checked entry points, set up cameras.
Maya arrived with two bags and shadows under her eyes.
"The guest room is down the hall," I said.
She shook her head. "I'm not sleeping alone in some room where I can't hear if someone breaks in."
"Then where?"
"Couch. Near the exits."
I didn't argue. Fear made people practical.
We spent the morning reviewing everything. Laptops open on the dining table. Documents spread across polished wood.
"Make a list," Maya said. "Everyone who knew about Marcus's investigation."
I grabbed a notepad and started writing.
“Marcus Che
