I sat on the floor, spreading the papers around me under the warm light of the floor lamp.

My fingers traced the names of old suppliers, designers, and logistics firms.

One name stood out on an old invoice from nine years ago.

*Whitaker Consulting Group.*

The address was in South Boston.

The invoice was marked paid, with a signature at the bottom.

The handwriting was elegant, with sharp, looping letters.

I recognized that handwriting immediately.

It belonged to Vivian Hartwell.

My heart stopped.

Vivian had paid a company named Whitaker before I even met Carter.

I held the yellowed piece of paper in my hand, my fingers trembling.

The phone on the table suddenly buzzed, the screen lighting up.

It wasn’t my phone.

It was Sloane’s tablet.

A notification had bypassed the lock screen.

It was a calendar alert.

*Meeting: V.H. at The Spire, 10:00 AM.*

Underneath the location was a note: *Final distribution of Vale assets.*

I stared at the screen as the notification blinked in the dark room.

I slid my thumb over my own phone screen and took a photo of the glowing tablet.