A Dangerous Invitation

Isabella's point of view 

The office air carried the sterile scent of paper and ink, but underneath it lurked something sharper—like the ghost of someone's presence still clinging to the room. My eyes swept over the scattered files on my desk, fingers tracing the edges of a folder that hadn't been moved in weeks.

Nothing looked out of place.

But I knew better.

Kyle wasn't sloppy. If she wanted me to know she had been here, she would've left a message—something subtle, something only I would recognize.

I reached for the drawer where I kept the more sensitive documents, my pulse steady but alert. The lock clicked open, and as I flipped through the papers, my hand stilled.

One was missing.

Not a contract. Not a financial statement.

A photograph.