Zariah didn't sleep
She kept the lights on all night, pacing, flinching at every creak the penthouse made. Whoever had come in or whatever had moved the picture was gone. The system showed no alerts but her instincts says otherwise.
By morning, she was dressed in black slacks and a fitted coat, her hair pulled back into a tight bun, armed with the only thing she still trusted: control.
She made two calls, one to a locksmith and the other to Dorian Voss.
The cafe in midtown was quiet, upscale, the kind of place where people negotiated million dollar deals over cappuccinos.
Dorian was already seated, a black espresso untouched in front of him, eyes on the window.
"You're late," he said as she slid into the seat across from him.
"I'm not here for coffee."
He arched a brow, "you called me".
She pulled the picture from her bag and slid it across the table , "you knew my mother".
"I told you I worked with her."
"This picture was taken in Capri four years ago. I checked the timestamp."
He said nothing.
"She was smiling" Zariah said "you were too, that wasn't business."
Still, he said nothing.
Zariah leaned forward. "Did you love her?"
His jaw tightened. "That's not a useful question."
"Why not?"
"Because love doesn't protect people, secret do."
There it was again, the mask slipping, just for a second, She saw it in his eyes. Grief, regret, something dangerously close to guilt.
"She was scared," Zariah whispered.
"She left me with warnings. She didn't trust you but she wanted me to listen to you. Why?"
"Because she was already too deep," he replied. "And because you're the only one who might be able to finish what she started."
"What was she doing?"
Dorian sipped his espresso"exposing a man powerful enough to erase lives."
He slid a folded paper towards her. A name was written on it; Cyrus Holt.
Zariah blinked, "that's the owner of Holt International?"
Dorian nodded, "and the man who has killed to keep your mother's file from reaching the surface."
Zariah's mouth went dry, she knew Holt International, they were everywhere, real estate, shipping, tech. Her mother once called him "a snake in a silk suit."
"You have proof?"
"Pieces" Dorian said "but if we're going to finish this, we need what your mother hid. That means you need to stop asking if you can trust me and start asking what you're willing to loose."
She stared at him
"You haven't changed," he added quietly. "You still lead with fire."
"And you still hide behind riddles."
They locked eyes. Something sharp passed between them, not quite anger, not quite heat, a memory neither could place but both could feel.
He stood, "when you're ready," he said, "go to the greenhouse behind her country estate, there's more buried there than plants."
And just like that, he was gone.