Including the secret I'm carrying that could change everything.
10
DANTE
Iwatch them from the second-floor window of my office. A strange feeling flutters through my chest. It’s warm. Fuzzy almost as it spreads out.
What’s wrong with me? Why am I enjoying the scene before me?
Hannah sits cross-legged on the grass, her red hair catching the afternoon sunlight like fire. Mila is pressed against her side, both of them bent over a book. I have the window open just so I can eavesdrop. I can hear my daughter's delighted laughter floating up. I can’t make out everything they’re saying, but Mila is clearly enamored with our house guest.
I don’t blame her.
It's been a week since Hannah arrived. In that time she's managed to do something I thought was impossible—she's made this house feel like a home instead of a fortress.
"Read it again," Mila demands. "Please?"
"Again?" Hannah's voice carries the mock exasperation of someone who's already read the same story five times and will happily read it five more. "Don't you know this one by heart already?"
"But you do the voices better than anyone."
Hannah laughs. The sound makes that warm and fuzzy feeling spread like lava through my veins.
It's bright and unguarded, nothing like the careful control she maintains around me. With Mila, she's different—softer, more open, like she's forgotten she's supposed to be my prisoner.
She's forgotten because my daughter makes her forget.
In the past week, I've watched Hannah transform from a furious captive into something dangerously close to a mother figure. She helps Mila with her drawings, listens to her endless chatter about everything and nothing, tucks her in at night when I'm stuck in meetings that run late.
She's filling a role that's been empty for five years, and Mila is blooming under the attention.
It's about control, I tell myself. Having Hannah here gives me leverage over her father.
But that's a lie, and I know it.
The truth is more complicated, more dangerous than simple strategy. The truth is that Hannah Quinn has managed to slip past my defenses. Watching her with my daughter is unraveling something I've kept carefully buried for years.
My phone buzzes, jarring me from thoughts I have no business thinking. Alexei's name flashes on the screen. I answer without looking away from the window.
"Tell me you have good news," I say.
"Define good." Alexei's voice is grim. "I've been going through Quinn's accounts with a magnifying glass, and you're right to be suspicious. The money trail is too clean, too obvious."
Finally.
"Meaning?"
"Meaning someone with serious computer skills set this up. The transactions are real, but they're designed to point directly at Quinn. Every digital fingerprint, every access code, every timestamp—it's all perfectly incriminating."
I close my eyes, feeling the pieces of a larger puzzle starting to click together. "Partner."
"Professional level. Whoever did this knows our systems inside and out. I would bet Richard is being set up to take the fall, but he’s not the only one involved.”
"Inside job."
"Has to be."
The words hit me like ice water. Bad enough that someone stole from us. The idea that it's someone within our own organization, someone I trust...
