The day began too quietly.

Carson had always mistrusted that silence was never peace, only a pause before something broke. The penthouse was still, except for the faint hum of the city outside and the low rhythm of Justina’s breathing from the adjoining room.

He sat at his desk, the glow from his laptop casting harsh light across papers he hadn’t read. The message from the night before still burned in his mind.

You thought the past was buried. It’s not.

No name. No context. Just a ...