The mansion was silent except for the tick of the antique wall clock and the occasional flick of flames from the hearth. Aiden stood by the tall windows, his arms folded tight against his chest, staring out into the inky blackness beyond the glass. His mind was racing.Silvana sat opposite Amelia, who was curled in the corner of the velvet couch, her coat still on, the half-zipped travel bag by her feet. Her mascara was smeared, her eyes red from crying. But the tremble in her hands hadn’t stopped.Aiden turned, his voice cold but steady.“You tried to run. You were willing to vanish without saying goodbye to your daughter. That alone tells me this isn’t just about lies—it’s about fear. So talk, Amelia. Now.”Silvana leaned forward gently. “Tell the truth. The real truth.”Amelia looked up at them, broken, ashamed, and desperate.“You think you know everything,” she said shakily. “You don’t.”Silvana’s voice stayed calm. “Then help us understand.”Amelia wiped at her eyes. “I didn’t c

The evening had arrived wrapped in a moody breeze. The estate grounds were dimly lit, save for the warm glow emanating from the lanterns along the stone path. Aiden stood alone on the terrace, a tumbler of whiskey in hand, his mind preoccupied.He had just tucked Zia into bed with Silvana by his side — another chapter of fairy tales read, another night of calm he feared wouldn’t last. The world outside the mansion was growing colder. So was the one within.Aiden turned at the soft crunch of footsteps behind him.Detective Harper.In a charcoal jacket, collar turned up, eyes sharp and serious.“You came in through the garden gate?” Aiden asked dryly.Harper offered a faint smirk. “Didn’t want your cameras to log me on the front porch. Or Amelia’s paranoia to flare up.”Aiden motioned toward a chair. “You said this couldn’t wait.”Harper sat, placing a sealed folder between them.“It’s Zain.”Aiden’s jaw tensed. “What now?”Harper opened the folder — inside, two photos and a thumb drive

The rain was relentless — sheets of water cascading over the armored van as it sped along the narrow service road behind the secure holding facility. The city skyline loomed like jagged shadows in the distance.Inside the van, Bryden Romanov sat handcuffed, eyes flickering with anxiety. His leg bounced restlessly. Across from him sat Detective Harper, dressed in a dark tactical jacket, his service weapon holstered but within reach.“Relax,” Harper said without looking at him. “We’ve got an unregistered path through old city utility lanes. Nobody knows this route but me and the driver.”Bryden scoffed quietly. “You sure about that?”Harper glanced at him. “Are you saying you gave something away?”Bryden hesitated — then shook his head. “No. I’m just saying… Zain has ways. Always has.”A sudden, sharp pop interrupted them — followed by a jolt.The van shuddered violently.Harper’s hand shot to his radio. “Unit 2, report!”No response.Another pop.Then — metal screeched.The driver’s si

The halls of the Romanov mansion were quiet, wrapped in the hush of approaching midnight. Soft golden sconces cast muted light along the marble walls, but the tension in the air felt electric — as if the house itself was holding its breath. Amelia moved with care, barefoot on the marble to silence her steps, her silk robe wrapped tightly around her. Her hair was slightly damp, as if she had just taken a shower — but the anxious dart of her eyes said otherwise. She had overheard Aiden on a hushed call hours earlier, something about a "sweep" and “exposing infiltration”. He knew. She didn’t know how much — or how close he was to linking her and Braise — but every fiber in her told her the walls were closing in. She needed to know what they’d found… or who they’d told. She moved toward the eastern wing — near the sublevel office entrance where Aiden’s private server room lay. He usually locked it, but maybe, just maybe, she could see something… hear something… As she rounded the c

The door creaked open slowly.Aiden stepped inside, his movements calm — but watchful. His sharp eyes scanned the room the way a tactician would a battlefield. He noted the subtle signs: the faint scent of perfume over stale sweat, the phone slightly hidden under the pillow, the bag just barely peeking from beneath the bed.She was planning to run.Amelia, sitting near the vanity, didn’t rise. Her face was framed by moonlight, lips pressed into a line. Her hands rested gently on her lap — too gently.“I thought I’d get a little sleep,” she said, voice smooth.“You were awake when I knocked,” Aiden replied flatly. “You've been awake for hours.”She turned her gaze toward him, guarded. “Are you here to accuse me of something?”“No,” Aiden said. “I’m here to let you tell me yourself.”Silence.He stepped further in, shutting the door behind him. The sound echoed like a seal.“There’s something off in this house, Amelia,” he continued. “Silvana feels it. Zia sensed it. I’ve ignored it for