Elara froze.
The envelope trembled slightly in her hands as the soft click of a door echoed down the marble hallway.
She wasn't imagining it.
Someone was in the penthouse.
She tucked the letter into her coat pocket, moving silently out of the study. The lights were dim, the city glowing beyond the glass like stars that couldn't help her.
"Mr. Kingsley?" she called out.
No answer.
Her eyes scanned the room. Nothing moved.
But the front door was unlocked.
She could've sworn she had locked it earlier.
Elara took a slow breath and backed into the elevator, heart pounding.
Back at the hotel, she locked herself in and opened the letter under a single desk lamp.
Her father's handwriting was harsh, uneven.
> Elara,
If you're reading this, it means I failed to protect you the way I always feared I would.
I left you in the dark not out of shame — but because I didn't know who I could trust.
They were watching me. Listening. Even in my own home.
The truth is more dangerous than the money. And the people involved… will not stop with me.
Trust no one.
The last line was underlined.
Her hand dropped slightly.
She glanced again at the letter... then flipped it over.
There was a second sheet.
But it was missing.
A soft ping came from her hotel phone.
One message.
> Unknown Number:
You shouldn't have opened that.
Someone knows Elara found the letter.
The missing second page may hold the real truth — and now, she's being watched.