Sunday Early Night
The file hits my desk with a dull thud—like a coffin closing. The PI doesn’t sit. He knows I don’t have the patience for small talk tonight. “You were right,” he says. “She’s not back for love.”
I flip the folder open. Surveillance photos. Receipts. Transcripts. Burner phone logs. Digital timestamps. Grace with a man I know too well. Vincent Dreyser. My rival. My enemy. A man who would burn my entire company to the ground if he could get a good photo of it for the front page.
“They’ve met five times since she came back,” the PI continues. “Cash only. No traceable communication. She’s careful… but not careful enough.”
He slides over a photo. Grace. Vincent. A table between them.
Something small and silver being exchanged. A USB drive. The world narrows. “That,” he says, “is your leverage. Likely the original copy of the video she’s using to blackmail you.”
My fingers curl around the edge of the desk, knuckles whitening. Grace isn’t just here to torture me. She’s here to ruin me. And now—now that she’s seen Evelyn—she’ll use her as a weapon too.
No. I won’t let it happen. I’d burn everything I own first.