The Kingsley estate had rules.
Amara learned them quickly.
No wandering past midnight.
No unlocked doors.
No questions.
She followed all of them—except one.
Darius trusted her too easily. That was her opening.
His study smelled of leather and ink, the walls lined with quiet authority. She moved carefully, heart pounding, every sound amplified.
She wasn't searching for money.
She was searching for proof.
A file. A name. A connection strong enough to destroy the Kingsleys.
Her phone vibrated softly.
Five minutes.
Amara exhaled, slipping a thin flash drive into the folder she'd been given weeks ago.
When Darius' footsteps sounded in the hall, her hands shook.
She had never wanted to fail a mission more.