Annabelle sat alone in her office, the faint hum of the city barely reaching through the thick glass windows.
The room was quiet except for the steady ticking of the clock on the wall. Her father’s words echoed in her mind—those closest to you may not be who they seem.
She stared at her computer screen. Dozens of files were open, their names familiar yet distant. She had gone through them countless times in the past, but tonight, she was not just reviewing them. She was searching—really searching—for something that didn’t fit.
Her fingers moved quickly over the keyboard as she opened the financial records from her father’s company—the same company that had been taken from him before his arrest. The numbers looked clean, polished, and ordinary. Yet something about the dates bothered her
