Luca's POV
The first time I noticed it, I told myself it was nothing.
A faint clicking sound.
Small.
Quick.
Like a fingernail tapping against glass.
I was standing in my office reviewing a document when I heard it again.
Click.
I froze.
The room was still.
The windows were closed. The air conditioner hummed softly from the ceiling.
My desk lamp cast a clean circle of light across the wood.
Click.
I slowly lifted my head.
“Who is there?” I asked calmly, even though my chest had tightened without permission.
No answer.
I walked around the desk, scanning the corners of the room. The bookshelves. The ceiling vents. The painting above the side cabinet.
The painting.
It had been there for years. A large oil portrait of a city harbor at sunset. Gold frame. Expensive. Harmless.
