Irene left her bedroom after four in the morning, closing the door slowly so the latch would not click. Her bag hung from one shoulder, the car key was hidden in her palm, and she deliberately chose the side corridor that staff rarely used at that hour. The Bernadus mansion was dim and far too quiet for someone carrying a secret. Every small sound against the marble floor made Irene feel as if the entire house were watching her move. She chose the back stairs instead of the main staircase. The route was longer, but it was usually used only by household staff and kept her farther from Helena's room. She had barely gone a few steps down the corridor when a night maid appeared from around the corner carrying an empty tray. The woman stopped when she saw Irene dressed with a bag over her shoulder at such an unusual hour. “You have not slept yet, Mrs. Bernadus?” she asked politely.&nbs

Irene parked her BMW along a street already crowded with other vehicles, then remained inside for several seconds before getting out. Around thirty people had gathered in front of the building even though the sun had barely risen, and the first things she noticed were not their faces but their clothes, shoes, plastic bags, and old motorcycles lined up along the sidewalk.She put on her dark glasses and tightened the branded scarf around her neck before opening the door. Her movements remained measured, as though getting out of the car with enough composure could preserve some distance between herself and the people waiting for answers to the same problem.A middle-aged woman with rough hands held a transfer receipt that had been folded many times. She saw Irene standing alone and approached cautiously, not because Irene’s clothes intimidated her, but because anyone arriving that early was probably there for the same reason.“Are you an investor too, ma’am?” she asked politely.For a m