Vihaan's POV:
The office was quiet, the city lights spilling across the floor-to-ceiling windows.I sat hunched over the files Noah had sent—hundreds of old records, contracts, correspondences—any detail I could use to trace the Salvatores' past.
"Noah, double-check everything: every transaction, every visitor, every unusual name. I don't care if it takes all night," I said, pacing.
"Already on it. But some records are… incomplete. Whoever wanted secrecy got what they wanted," Noah replied, calm as ever.
I was just busy searching the documents when a message from Noah popped up. It was a picture. Three people, one of whom is James Salvatore Ama's father, then Albert Morgan, if I got him correct, then he is Jia's father, and the third was a woman. I called Noah to ask about her.
"Who's that lady in the picture?" I asked.
"She is Seraphine Duvall, and the picture I sent you is of the day their business, Celine Ventures, got its name on the top ten profitable business list. They are business partners."
I leaned back in my chair, rubbing my eyes. Seraphine Duvall. The name kept repeating in my mind like a warning I couldn't ignore.
"Anything on her online?" I asked Noah.
"Not much. Small mentions—company registrations, old social columns—but nothing concrete linking her to the Salvatores beyond the business photos," Noah replied.
I ran a hand through my hair, frustrated.
I tapped on my keyboard, searching through public records, old business filings, and news archives.Seraphine Duvall. A woman in the background of every success, always just out of focus. A shadow in the Salvatores' story.
If she was still around, if she knew anything about that night… I needed to find her.I couldn't shake the feeling that the moment I lost track of her, the truth might vanish forever. I need to find her.
Amara's POV:
The folder, the newspapers, the photograph—it all felt like pieces of a puzzle waiting to snap together.Seraphine Duvall. A name, a shadow, a key I couldn't ignore.
I sat at my laptop, fingers flying over the keyboard. Coding skills, online databases, open-source records—I used everything I had learned over the years.
Social media, company filings, old newspaper archives, property registries… each search narrowed the possibilities.Hours passed in a blur of screens and tabs, but finally, a pattern emerged.
Seraphine Duvall had a property registered under her name, just outside the city, on the outskirts near the old industrial district. Nothing flashy—no signs of wealth, no traceable connections. Just a quiet, unassuming residence.
I leaned back, heart hammering.This was it. A lead. A real one.And if my mother's warning was true, this could be the first step to uncovering the truth about that night.
I minimized the map on my screen and took a deep breath.No one could know I was going after this—Vihaan certainly couldn't.Not yet.
I grabbed my coat, slipped my laptop into my bag, and checked the time.It was late. Perfect. The fewer witnesses, the better.
One thought echoed in my mind as I stepped out the door:I'm going to find you, Seraphine Duvall. And I'll get answers—no matter what it takes.
The taxi rattled over the outskirts of the city, weaving through quiet streets lined with factories long abandoned. My fingers drummed nervously on my bag, my laptop tucked safely inside, maps and coordinates replaying in my mind.
"Here we are," the driver said, slowing to a stop. I paid him quickly, heart racing, and stepped onto the cracked pavement.
The house looked simple. Almost ordinary. Nothing in the exterior suggested secrets or danger. Yet an uneasy feeling settled in my stomach.
I rang the doorbell, but even after waiting for a few minutes outside, no one came, so I pushed the door open carefully. Silence. Nothing.
And yet… something was off.
The fridge was open, stocked with fresh food.The floor was clean, polished as if someone had just swept it.A stack of ironed clothes sat neatly on the table.
It was like someone had been here… and left moments before I arrived.
I froze, scanning the empty rooms.Was Seraphine still here? Or had she sensed someone was coming?
A shiver ran down my spine.The answers were close—but so was the danger.
I had to be careful. One wrong move, and everything my mother had warned me about could come crashing down.
Slowly, I stepped further inside, ears straining, eyes scanning every shadow.
Seraphine Duvall, I whispered under my breath.Where are you hiding?
I stepped carefully through the house, eyes scanning every corner.A few papers lay scattered on the counter, their edges curling slightly as if recently handled.
My fingers itched to read them—but before I could, a faint sound stopped me cold: the soft thud of footsteps.
Not heavy, but deliberate. Slow.
I froze, every instinct screaming danger.The steps grew closer. I crept toward the window, trying to glimpse who it was—but only darkness stared back.
It wasn't a woman.The gait, the shadow through the curtains, everything warned me that this wasn't Seraphine.
Heart hammering, I snatched the papers and shoved them into my bag without looking.No time to read, no time to hesitate.
I backed toward the door, keeping my movements light, silent, careful.One wrong step, and everything could go wrong.
Outside, the night air hit me like a shield.I pressed the papers to my chest, whispered a quick prayer, and vanished into the shadows, leaving the house—and whoever was inside—behind.
I ran to take a taxi, and luckily I found one. Without looking back at who the person was, I hopped inside and left the spot.
Vihaan's POV:
Noah's message pinged on my laptop—a scanned document, cross-referenced property records, and an address.
"Seraphine Duvall," Noah said over the call. "She owns property on the outskirts of the city. Quiet area. Looks abandoned, but all registrations are in her name. No tenants, no recent activity in public records. You'll need to check in person."
I ran a hand through my hair, tension coiling in my chest.Finally. A lead. The first tangible clue in weeks.
I grabbed my jacket and slid into the car, every sense alert.
The house came into view: simple, unassuming, silent.A sense of familiarity tugged at me, though I couldn't explain it. Something in the structure, in the shadows cast by the porch, whispered of secrets hidden just beyond reach.
I parked a short distance away, scanning the perimeter.The windows were dark, no movement. When I got close to the door, it was already open, the floor was a little wet as if someone had just cleaned it, and ironed clothes. The most triggering thing was that the fridge was open as if she was in a hurry to leave —I hadn't seen that, but I felt the odd quiet that only recently abandoned homes have.
I stepped closer, careful, every muscle tense.If Seraphine was here… if she knew anything about Ama's parents, the Salvatores… I had to know.