CHAPTER 16The Cropped Truth
A week passed in a strange, suspended rhythm. Luna spent her days in the archives, ostensibly learning the Wǎngshā digital filing systems, but secretly searching for any mention of her father's death. She found nothing obvious—which was, in itself, suspicious.
Leo was a ghost in the machine, appearing at meals, occasionally working in the same room as her, but always maintaining a careful distance. They spoke of ledgers, of data security, of family history—never of the secret he had shared by the koi pond.
It was a Tuesday afternoon when her phone buzzed with an unknown number.
Unknown: Thought you should see what your husband does during his "late meetings."
Attached were three photographs.
The first: Leo standing close to a beautiful woman in a hotel lobby. Her hand was on his arm.
The second: The same woman laughing, leaning in.
The third: Them entering an elevator together.
Luna's breath caught. The woman was Elara Chen, his operations manager. The timestamp showed last night at 9:47 PM. Leo had told her he was working late at the Tower.
Her hands trembled. Carter's face flashed in her memory—apologetic, relieved.
"It just happened, Luna."
She typed back, fingers clumsy: Who is this?
Unknown: A friend. Ask him about Elara.
The screen went dark. Luna sat in the silent archive, the hum of servers suddenly sounding like accusation.