The rest of the day at the office was a blur for Alicia. Every time Arthur smiled at her or touched her shoulder, she felt a sharp, agonizing sting in her chest. She looked at him—the man who was saving her brother—and tried to reconcile him with the image of a company that might have killed her parents.
Arthur noticed the distance immediately. "Alicia, you've been quiet since you got back from the hospital. Did something happen with Léo?"
"No," she lied, her voice tight. "Léo is doing great. Better than ever. I'm just... tired from the gala."
Arthur didn't look convinced, but he respected her space. "I have to stay late for a board meeting. My father is coming in to discuss the foundation's expansion. I'll send a car to pick you up later."
"No, don't worry about it," Alicia said, more quickly than she intended. "I have some things to take care of."
Midnight came too soon. The docks were cold and shrouded in a thick, salty fog. Alicia stood near Warehouse 14, her heart drumming a frantic rhythm against her ribs.
"You came," the raspy voice emerged from the shadows. An old man, hunched and shivering, stepped into the light of a flickering streetlamp. He handed her a yellowed, water-stained folder. "I've kept this for ten years. I was scared. The Carters... they were powerful. They still are."
Alicia opened the folder with trembling hands. Inside were copies of the logs. On the night of the crash, a security team led by a man named Silas—the former head of security for Arthur's father—had been logged into the private hangar.
"Why are you giving me this now?" Alicia whispered.
"Because I'm dying," the man said. "And I don't want to take this secret to my grave. Your parents weren't supposed to die, Miss Mendes. It was a warning gone wrong. They were going to blow the whistle on a merger. A Carter merger."
Alicia felt the folder slip from her fingers. The papers scattered on the damp concrete. At that moment, headlights cut through the fog. A black car approached, but it wasn't a taxi.
The door opened, and Henry Carter—Arthur's father—stepped out. His face wasn't warm and grandfatherly like it had been at dinner. It was the face of a man who would do anything to protect his legacy.
"I thought I might find you here, Alicia," Henry said, his voice cold and commanding. "I see you've been talking to old Mr. Higgins. It's a shame. We were starting to really like you."
Behind her, Alicia heard the sound of footsteps. She was trapped.