That night, Zariah couldn't sleep. She lay on the living room couch with a blanket draped over her and a bottle of water sweating on the coffee table. Every sound in the penthouse felt magnified, the hum of the refrigerator, the ticking of the antique clock, the echo of Dorian's voice in her head.
"You're standing in the middle of a puzzle your mother died trying to solve."
She sat up, restless and padded barefoot into her mother's old office, the one place she hadn't dared open since her return. The door creaked, the air inside smelled faintly of old perfume and paper.
She approached it slowly, heart thumbing. Inside was a picture. Her mother... and a man. Face half turned but Zariah could see the profile, sharp jaw, strong shoulders, gray flecked eyes. Her throat tightened. It was Dorian. Younger, smiling, standing beside her mother like they knew each other well. Too well.
She dropped the picture like it burned her.
Had he lied? He said he was her mother's legal contact but this wasn't business, this was personal.
The drawer held more, she pulled out a thin file marked only with a silver pen. "The Voss Account."
Inside were notes in her mother's handwriting, scribbled dates, transfer receipts, names Zariah didn't recognize; miller, Kaito, Renner... and then one that chilled her; "Zariah."
There was a circle drawn around it. A question mark next to it.
Then a single line. "If she finds out too soon, she will run."
The sound of glass breaking snapped her attention back to the present. She rushed out into the living room and stopped. The balcony door was ajar, wind howled through the crack and on the floor was the picture. Not the one from the drawer, the one from earlier. She had left it upright, now it lay face down again.
Zariah slowly backed away, her breath sharp.
She wasn't alone.