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Fourth, and most importantly, I needed to check the news. I moved so that I could sit cross-legged on the bed, and snatched the burner phone off the small nightstand. I navigated the news sites I’d bookmarked just like I’d done yesterday. I checked the business sections first, then the local news, then the national headlines.

Nothing about Cain Ashcroft appeared during any of my searches. No “Billionaire Found Dead” headlines. No “Police Searching for Suspect in Attack on CEO.” Not even a mention of Ashcroft Group in the business roundups. It was as if I’d imagined the whole thing and I was beginning to wonder if this was a fever dream.

I switched to the financial news. Ashcroft Group’s stock had dipped slightly—3 percent—but that could be explained by normal market fluctuation. No analyst commentary or board shakeups or anything.

The silence was worse than the screaming I expected.

I opened a private browser and typed “Cain Ashcroft” into the search bar. The results were the same carefully curated press releases and flattering profiles that had existed before I’d swung that paperweight. His Wikipedia page hadn’t been updated with a death date. His Instagram account, which I assumed was managed by his PR team, had posted yesterday about a charity event involving children, but that was it.

I sat back against the headboard and let my gaze wander to the ceiling. If Cain was dead, someone would have noticed by now. It didn’t matter who would notice first—his family, his employees, his security team—but I was confident someone would prevent them from carrying on as if nothing had happened. The Ashcroft Group was too massive, too interconnected with global finance, to lose its founder without ripple effects.

Which meant he was alive.

Which meant he was either recovering somewhere or already planning.

I closed the browser and pulled up my notes app. I’d started a document titled “What I Know,” which was becoming increasingly pathetic as the days passed.

1. Cain is alive (probably)

2. He isn’t publicly looking for me

3. My company is functioning without me

4. No police are involved (yet)

I stared at the list as I tapped my finger on the phone screen. The absence of police involvement was interesting and telling. If Cain had reported the attack, there would be an investigation. A billionaire CEO attacked in his office would make headlines nationwide. The fact that it hadn’t suggested Cain was handling this privately.

Which was infinitely more terrifying.

I switched to another news site, this time checking the obituaries. I couldn’t find a single soul matching Cain’s description. I wasn’t sure if that was reassuring or not.

The window unit rattled again, and I flinched. My nerves were shot and I knew that I needed to get out of this room so that I could walk around and think in the fresh air. However, leaving meant being exposed and opening myself up to potentially being found. I took a deep breath and forced myself to make a decision. Staying inside meant safety but also meant going insane from isolation. Going outside meant risk but also the chance to clear my head.

The rules I’d established for myself were simple: move, but don’t be predictable. I grabbed my baseball cap and sunglasses, then stuffed my burner phone into my back pocket. After checking that the coast was clear through the window, I removed the chair from under the door handle and slipped outside.

The morning air was cooler than I expected, and I pulled my hoodie tighter around myself. I walked with my head down toward the bus stop I’d identified yesterday. I arrived just as the bus was pulling up and was grateful that the bus still took cash. I found a seat near the back and when I sat down, I noticed the other three passengers on the bus. There was an elderly woman with a bag of groceries, a teenager with headphones, and a man in some sort of uniform. None of them looked my way and I let out a sigh of relief.

It almost felt like I got away with murder.

That was a horrible joke to make but here we were.

The bus ride was uneventful, which is exactly what I needed. Twenty-five minutes of stopping and going, with the occasional passenger boarding or exiting. By the time I reached my destination, the tension that I was carrying was still present, but not nearly as bad.

I stepped off the bus and walked three blocks to a diner I’d found after a quick search the night before. It was called Betsy’s and reminded me of the aesthetic I’d experienced the entire time I’d been in Bellweather, Delaware.

The diner looked as if it was a part of a time capsule that was created in the 1970s with its vinyl booth seats patched with electrical tape, a laminated menu that I spotted and wasn’t sure the last time it was updated. There was also the faint smell of grease that had probably soaked into the walls over decades. I chose a booth with my back to the wall to give me the opportunity to scan the establishment when I needed to. I kept my cap pulled low and my sunglasses still on despite being indoors.

A waitress in a faded yellow apron approached with a cup and a coffee pot. She barely glanced my way as she poured without asking. The black liquid filled the beige mug and I swear I almost groaned at the sight.

“Coffee’s on the house if you’re eating,” she said.

“Just coffee for now,” I replied, keeping my voice low and neutral. “I will definitely be getting something to eat though.” My stomach grumbled in agreement.

She nodded and moved away, leaving me alone with my thoughts and the laminated menu I’d eyed just a minute ago. The coffee was surprisingly decent and was exactly what my sleep-deprived system needed.

I pulled out my burner phone and checked the time: 8.18 a.m. The diner was nearly empty, which was both lovely and eerie at the same time. I wasn’t used to not having many people around because of my life in D.C., but not being surrounded by people meant that Cain or someone connected to him wasn’t here. That didn’t mean they weren’t lurking around the corner, but for now it gave me a little peace.

I picked what I wanted to eat and took a slow sip of coffee. With a deep sigh, I closed my eyes for a second to give the liquid an opportunity to penetrate my system. The warmth gave me a new lease on life. However, the minor enjoyment that I got from it was interrupted by the waitress returning with a pad in hand.