I didn’t sleep that night.
Not even for an hour.
The photograph was still open on my phone at three in the morning.
My father’s face.
Victoria Vale’s face.
The knife.
The night Richard Vale died.
I zoomed in until the image blurred.
There had to be something I’d missed.
Something.
Anything.
But the photograph remained stubbornly silent.
I tossed my phone onto the bed and covered my face with both hands.
This was insane.
I had spent five years believing my father was guilty.
Five years defending myself whenever someone whispered murderer’s daughter behind my back.
Five years watching my mother pretend she wasn’t ashamed.
Five years watching my sister hate the man who had died insisting he was innocent.
And now, in the space of one afternoon, everything I’d believed had begun to crack.
My phone vibrated.
I grabbed it.
Another message from the unknown number.
YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED.
I stared at it.
Then typed:
WHO ARE YOU?
The message showed as delivered.
No response.
I waited.
Nothing.
I typed again.
What happened to my father?
Still nothing.
I threw the phone onto the pillow.
“Coward.”
A knock sounded on my bedroom door.
I sat upright.
“Amara?”
My mother’s voice.
I quickly locked my phone.
“Come in.”
The door opened.
Mum stood there in her nightdress, looking exhausted.
“You’re still awake.”
“Couldn’t sleep.”
She studied my face.
“You got the job?”
I nodded.
“Yes.”
Her eyes widened.
“At Vale Enterprises?”
“Yes.”
She sat beside me.
For a moment, neither of us spoke.
Then she took my hand.
“Amara, you don’t have to work there.”
“I know.”
“Your father—”
“I know.”
Her fingers tightened around mine.
“Then why?”
Because I think Dad was innocent.
Because Victoria Vale may have killed her husband.
Because Damien Vale knows something.
Because someone just threatened me.
I couldn’t tell her any of that.
Not yet.
“It’s a good job,” I said instead.
Mum looked unconvinced.
“You’ve always hated that family.”
“I don’t hate them.”
She gave me a look.
I sighed.
“Okay.
I hate them a little.”
“A little?”
I smiled despite myself.
She shook her head.
“Promise me you’ll be careful.”
I squeezed her hand.
“I promise.”
It was a lie.
We both knew it.
Monday morning came too quickly.
I stood outside Vale Enterprises wearing the only expensive-looking suit I owned.
I had borrowed the shoes from Nadia.
My sister had laughed when she saw me.
“You look like you’re going to fire someone.”
“I might.”
“Good.
Rich people need to be humbled.”
I smiled.
Nadia didn’t know where I was really going.
She didn’t know about the photograph.
She didn’t know about the message.
And she definitely didn’t know I was about to spend eight hours a day working for the son of the man our father was accused of killing.
I wasn’t ready to tell her.
Not yet.
The elevator took me to the forty-second floor.
When the doors opened, a woman was waiting.
She looked around thirty.
Perfect hair.
Perfect makeup.
Perfectly irritated expression.
“You’re Amara Bell.”
“Yes.”
Her eyes traveled over me.
“I’m Evelyn Hart.
Mr.
Vale’s executive secretary.”
She handed me a tablet.
“Your schedule.”
I took it.
“Thank you.”
“Don’t thank me yet.”
I looked at her.
She smiled sweetly.
“Mr.
Vale doesn’t like mistakes.”
“Neither do I.”
Something flashed in her eyes.
Approval.
Maybe.
She turned and walked away.
I followed.
We passed several offices before stopping outside Damien’s.
Evelyn knocked once.
“Come in.”
She opened the door.
Damien was standing behind his desk, reading a file.
He didn’t look up.
“She’s here.”
“I can see that.”
Evelyn gave me a sympathetic glance.
Then left.
I stood there.
Damien continued reading.
I waited.
Thirty seconds.
One minute.
Two.
Finally, I cleared my throat.
“Good morning.”
Nothing.
I looked around.
The office was different in daylight.
Large windows.
Dark furniture.
A bookshelf covering an entire wall.
And on the desk…
a framed photograph.
Richard Vale.
Damien as a child.
Victoria standing between them.
A happy family.
Before everything went wrong.
“Sit.”
I looked back at Damien.
He still hadn’t raised his head.
I sat.
Five minutes passed.
Then ten.
My patience snapped.
“Are you planning to interview me again?”
He finally looked up.
“No.”
“Then why am I sitting here?”
“Because I wanted to see how long you’d wait.”
I stared at him.
“You’re unbelievable.”
“And you lasted eleven minutes.”
He checked his watch.
“Most people last five.”
“Congratulations.”
His mouth twitched.
“Thank you.”
I hated that almost-smile.
“Your first assignment.”
He pushed a folder toward me.
“Take this to the legal department.”
I picked it up.
“Anything else?”
“Yes.”
He pointed toward the coffee machine.
“Coffee.”
I stared at him.
“Excuse me?”
“Black.
No sugar.”
“You have an assistant for that.”
“I had an assistant.”
“What happened to her?”
“She quit.”
“Why?”
“She didn’t like making coffee.”
I folded my arms.
“Then you hired the wrong person.”
He looked at me.
“I hired exactly the person I wanted.”
The words hung between us.
Something about the way he said them made my pulse jump.
I looked away.
“Black coffee.”
“Correct.”
I turned toward the door.
“Amara.”
I stopped.
“Don’t go through files that don’t belong to you.”
My heart skipped.
I slowly turned.
“Why would I?”
“Because you’re curious.”
“I’m not.”
He raised an eyebrow.
“You looked at my family photograph for thirty-seven seconds on Friday.”
I blinked.
“You counted?”
“I notice things.”
I forced a smile.
“Then you should know I’m not interested in your family’s business.”
His eyes darkened.
“That’s a lie.”
I left before he could say anything else.
By noon, I had learned three things about Damien Vale.
First, he hated meetings.
Second, he hated people who talked too much.
Third, he somehow knew every time I was about to do something he wouldn’t approve of.
It was irritating.
Very irritating.
I was carrying documents toward the legal department when I saw a familiar name on a file.
RICHARD VALE — CASE REVIEW
I stopped.
My heart began beating faster.
I looked around.
Nobody was watching.
I reached for the file.
“Looking for something?”
I nearly jumped out of my skin.
I turned.
Damien stood behind me.
His expression was unreadable.
“I was just—”
“Curious?”
I swallowed.
“Yes.”
“At least you’re honest.”
He took the file from my hands.
“This isn’t your department.”
“I know.”
“Then don’t touch it.”
“Why?”
“Because I said so.”
“That isn’t an explanation.”
“No.”
He stepped closer.
“It’s an instruction.”
I looked up at him.
“You’re going to have to get used to the fact that I ask questions.”
“And you’re going to have to get used to the fact that I don’t answer all of them.”
We stood there, staring at each other.
Too close.
Much too close.
I could see the tiny scar near his eyebrow.
The faint shadow of stubble along his jaw.
His eyes dropped to my lips.
For one second, neither of us moved.
Then he stepped back.
“Get back to work.”
I hated the disappointment that followed.
I hated it even more because I knew exactly what it meant.
I was attracted to him.
Damien Vale.
The man I had every reason to hate.
The man whose father was connected to my father’s death.
I turned away.
“Amara.”
I stopped again.
“Don’t investigate my family.”
His voice was quieter now.
Almost a warning.
“Why?”
He looked at me.
“Because you won’t like what you find.”
Then he walked away.
That evening, everyone left the office except me.
I was organizing Damien’s schedule when I noticed something strange.
His calendar showed a private meeting.
8:30 P.M.
— VICTORIA VALE
I stared at the screen.
Victoria.
My fingers hovered over the keyboard.
I shouldn’t.
I knew I shouldn’t.
But curiosity had already ruined my life once.
What was one more mistake?
I opened the meeting details.
LOCATION: PRIVATE RESIDENCE
Then I saw the note attached.
Bring the ledger.
My blood went cold.
The black ledger.
It existed.
I quickly copied the details onto my phone.
Then I heard footsteps.
I closed the screen.
Too late.
Damien stood in the doorway.
His expression changed when he saw my face.
“What did you find?”
“Nothing.”
He walked toward me.
“Amara.”
“Nothing.”
He stopped in front of my desk.
“You’re a terrible liar.”
“So I’ve been told.”
His eyes moved to the computer.
Then back to me.
“Go home.”
“But—”
“Now.”
I stood.
He didn’t move.
Neither did I.
Then his voice softened.
“Please.”
That single word caught me off guard.
Damien Vale didn’t seem like the kind of man who said please.
I picked up my bag.
As I walked past him, his hand caught my wrist.
Not hard.
Just enough to stop me.
We looked at each other.
His voice dropped.
“If you keep digging, someone is going to get hurt.”
“Who?”
His eyes held mine.
“You.”
I pulled my hand free.
“Maybe I’m willing to take that risk.”
I walked away.
Behind me, Damien said something so quietly I almost didn’t hear it.
“That’s what I’m afraid of.”
I reached the elevator.
The doors opened.
I stepped inside.
Then my phone vibrated.
Unknown number.
A new message.
DON’T TRUST DAMIEN VALE.
I stared at the words.
Another message appeared.
HE KNOWS WHO KILLED HIS FATHER.
My heart pounded.
Then the final message arrived.
AND HE KNOWS WHERE THE LEDGER IS.