Elena's POV
I didn't say a word as I stepped out of the car.
The folder pressed against my chest felt heavier than it should've. Not just because of what was in it—but because of what it meant.
Proof.
Of everything we suspected.
Of everything Amira had planned.
Of just how far she was willing to go to ruin me.
Julian opened the door before I even reached it.
He didn't ask where I'd been.
His eyes dropped to the folder in my arms.
"Is that—?"
"Yes," I said quietly. "It's everything."
I walked past him, straight to the dining table, and laid it out.
Papers. Photos. Bank statements. Fake IDs. Meeting logs. Transfer records. Emails that made my skin crawl. And tucked inside one of the sleeves—something that made my throat close.
A picture.
Of me.
Taken two weeks before the kidnapping. From behind.
I didn't even remember someone being there.
Julian stood beside me, scanning the files. No words. Just the kind of silence that tasted like fury.
