MIDNIGHT LETTERS

THE GHOST IN THE GLASS

By the third night, paranoia had become their constant companion.

They worked in silence, blinds drawn, only the hum of the laptop filling the room. Juliet had started to sleep in Miles’s guest room but sleep rarely came.

Every sound outside felt like a warning. Every ring of the phone felt like the past catching up.

At 2 a.m., while Miles reviewed the files, Juliet caught her reflection in the window and saw another shape move behind her.

She turned sharply. Nothing.

Miles looked up. “What is it?”

“Someone’s been outside every night.”

He stood, pulling her toward him, his voice low. “They’re watching the apartment. My father’s people, maybe Lang.”

Her heartbeat raced. “Then we go to the press.”

He shook his head. “Not yet. Not until we have everything.”

Juliet’s frustration broke through. “Michael died waiting for the perfect moment, Miles!”

He slammed his hand on the desk. “And if we rush, you’ll die too!”

The words hung heavy. He closed his eyes, regret softening the anger. “I can’t lose you again.”

She stepped closer, whispering, “Then don’t treat me like a secret.”

He stared at her for a long moment then pulled her in, fiercely, desperately. Their lips met again, a collision of grief and need.

When he finally pulled back, his breath trembled. “If we survive this, Juliet, I’ll tell you everything. Every lie. Every choice. But not yet.”

And for the first time, she didn’t fight him.

That night, as Miles slept on the couch, Juliet returned to the computer, curiosity and fear guiding her. She opened one file marked Private Correspondence.

Inside were dozens of emails. The most recent To J.Morel, From D.Lang.

“The girl’s digging again. Should I handle it like the brother?”

Juliet’s blood ran cold.

She printed the message, heart pounding, and hid it inside her coat pocket.

When she turned, Miles was awake watching her quietly.

His expression was unreadable. “What did you find?”

Juliet hesitated. “Something you’re not ready to see.”