The Dagger's Memory

VANESSA

I couldn't sleep. Not with Bianca's dagger sitting on my dresser like some ancient artifact ready to whisper its secrets. I'd spent hours staring at the ceiling, my mind racing with possibilities, each more unsettling than the last.

The note's message—"Some debts can never die"—felt less like a threat and more like a message I couldn't decode. Why would Bianca send me her ceremonial dagger? What debt could she possibly believe existed between us?

By morning, I'd made my decision. I picked up the wooden box, examining it more carefully in the daylight. There was something I'd missed last night—a small compartment in the bottom, revealed when I pressed on what appeared to be a decorative edge.

Inside was another folded paper, this one with letterhead.

"Law Offices of Quinn & Associates," I read aloud, heart pounding.

The letter was formal, detached, and completely unexpected:

*Ms. West,*