“I think I’ll hang it in the twins’ room,” I said.“Just as a reminder of their father.”
She nodded.“That makes sense.”
We packed the last of the boxes and carried the sign out to my car, where I laid it carefully in the trunk.
“I’ve got the rest,” I said.“Go before traffic gets heavy.”
“Oh—” Celine snapped her fingers.“The laptop.I left the bag under the windowsill.”
The laptop.
The one we’d used at the office so the IP address wouldn’t change.
Because some things only stayed hidden if they stayed familiar.
“I’ve got it,” I repeated, firmer this time.“Take care of your granddaughter.”
Another pause.Then she hugged me and drove off.
I stood there longer than necessary, watching her taillights fade.A heaviness settled in my chest—an instinctive unease I couldn’t quite name.
I glanced around the parking lot, then turned back inside.
The agency felt different now.Too quiet.The kind of silence that presses against your ears, making you hyperaware of every breath, every footstep, every shift of air.
The laptop sat exactly where we’d left it.My fingers brushed the smooth casing, and a chill slid down my spine.I sat it by the door to Ray’s office, then I crouched to lift the final box and carried it to the front.It was heavier than it should’ve been.
When I turned—
He was standing there.
Just inside the doorway.
Watching me.
My heart slammed hard enough to steal the air from my lungs.
Francesco.
He didn’t rush me.Didn’t smile.He simply looked down at the box, then back at my face—slow, deliberate.
As if he’d known exactly when I’d be here.
I set the box down carefully.
Not because he told me to.
Because my body understood something my mind hadn’t caught up to yet.
Francesco Vincenzo stood with his hands loose at his sides, posture relaxed.He hadn’t stepped closer.He didn’t need to.Men like him occupied space without effort—quietly, completely—like the room had already rearranged itself around him.
“You shouldn’t be here,” I said.My voice didn’t shake.That surprised me.
Francesco smiled faintly.“And yet,” he said, “here we are.”
He turned the lock.
That was the first real spike of fear.
