Harry left work early, his mind consumed with thoughts of Samuel Walsh. Despite Mr. Chen's warnings about making baseless accusations, Harry couldn't shake the conviction that Samuel was responsible for the warehouse fire. The timing was too perfect, the motive too obvious.He spent the afternoon researching, using public records and social media to track down Samuel's address. It wasn't difficult—Samuel had posted about his new apartment on LinkedIn months ago, complaining about the commute to TechNova."Got you," Harry muttered, writing down the address.By evening, Harry was parked outside a modest apartment complex on the outskirts of the city. He sat in his car for several minutes, rehearsing what he would say, how he would approach this confrontation.What Harry didn't notice was the dark sedan parked three spaces behind him, its driver watching with intense interest.Frank Solomon had been following Harry all day, maintaining careful distance, using techniques he'd learned from

Frank leaned forward on Samuel's couch, his expression hardening from friendly collaboration to cold threat. "Let me make something very clear, Samuel. If you don't cooperate with me, I will personally make sure you regret ever touching that warehouse.""I already said I'd help you—" Samuel started."No, I don't think you understand," Frank interrupted. "Right now, I'm the only thing standing between you and a prison cell. I have evidence that will destroy you—photos, timestamps, witness accounts. If I decide to hand that over to the police, you're done. Five to ten years minimum. Maybe more if they decide to make an example of you."Samuel's face paled. "You said you'd make the evidence disappear.""I will," Frank confirmed. "As long as you're useful to me. But the moment you become a liability, the moment you hesitate or refuse what I ask? That evidence goes straight to Detective Reynolds at the police department. And trust me, she'll be very interested in what I have to show her."

Harry opened his mouth to say yes, then stopped himself. Did he want her to leave? Part of him—the part that was still angry at the Anderson family—absolutely did. But another part, the exhausted part that had spent all day dealing with dead-end investigations and disappointing news, found something oddly comforting about coming home to voices and laughter instead of an empty house."I didn't say that," Harry replied carefully."Then what are you saying?" Alice pressed.Harry moved into the room, setting his bag down on a chair. "I'm saying I don't understand what you're doing here. After everything with Mona, after your father, after I told you I wanted nothing to do with your family—why are you still here?"Alfred cleared his throat. "Harry, Alice has been helping us. She's been coordinating with the hospital to make sure your medical records reflect the story we agreed on. She's been deflecting questions from concerned coworkers who heard about the accident. She's been—""Useful,"

Alice flinched as if she'd been slapped. "That's fair. I made a terrible mistake. But Harry, I've learned from that. I know better now. And I promise you—I swear on everything I care about—I will never betray your trust again.""Promises are easy to make," Harry said quietly."Then let me prove it through actions," Alice replied. "I'll keep your secret. I'll help protect you. Whatever you need, I'll do it."Harry wanted to believe her. Part of him desperately wanted to trust that she meant what she said. But trust was a luxury he couldn't afford—not when the consequences of being wrong could destroy his life."I don't have much choice but to trust you," Harry said finally. "You already know too much. If you wanted to expose me, you could do it right now.""But I won't," Alice insisted. "Because I care about you, Harry. More than you seem to realize."There was something in her tone that made Harry uncomfortable—an intensity that suggested feelings beyond simple friendship. But he chos