Chapter 28
CHAPTER 28: The Man in the Photograph
Florida's POV
She blended into the seat like she belonged. Black slacks, silk blouse, no makeup — not her usual softness. Tonight, she was FLD, faceless, free.
No perfume. No jewelry. Just grit and a folder of carefully pressed sketches tucked beneath her arm.
The "bar" was actually a rooftop lounge converted into a quiet studio. Dim lights. Vintage posters. A wall of pinned-up designs. It felt raw, underground — a perfect hideout for hidden talent.
The final interview with Noir Texture Studio wasn't what she expected. It wasn't cold or stiff. The team was warm. Creative. Excited.
And the man leading it? Older, maybe thirty-five, in tortoise-shell glasses and a gray turtleneck. The type of artistic cool that made people lean in without knowing why.
He asked questions no one had ever asked her before.
> "What scares you about success?"
"If your name were ever revealed, what would they say about the girl behind the thread?"
She answered with honesty — vague but rich. It wasn't just an interview. It was a mirror.
At the end, he stood and shook her hand.
> "I don't know who you are," he said, smiling. "But I like your fire."
As they stepped outside into the dusky evening air, he reached to brush a leaf from her back, hand grazing lightly between her shoulder blades.
She smiled, a real one.
And just then — click.
---
In a Car Down the Street
The sound of a shutter was barely louder than a breath.
The man inside the black SUV leaned back, reviewing the shots on his camera.
Florida, dressed in black.
Florida, laughing.
Florida, leaving the lounge with a man who wasn't her husband.
A hand on her back.
He pulled out his phone.
> "She said she was visiting an aunt. But I followed her to a lounge near downtown. She met a man. They stayed over an hour. Your call, sir."
Sent.
---
Bryant's POV
The Kings office was dead silent, save for the soft jazz echoing from the hallway speakers. Bryant sat behind his glass desk, sleeves rolled up, tie discarded. He looked like he hadn't slept in days.
The message popped up.
He opened it.
One photo.
Then another.
Then another.
Each one sliced through him like thin glass. He didn't blink. Didn't move. Just stared.
Her smile.
That man's hand.
The outfit — so not Florida.
The timestamp.
> "She said she was nowhere important."
His fingers curled tighter around the whisky glass.
Snap.
Shards of glass kissed his palm. Blood trailed down his wrist, but he didn't flinch.
He picked up his phone again.
Typed nothing.
Just watched.
---
Florida's POV
By the time she returned home, it was already dark.
She slipped into the mansion like mist — silent, invisible. Mina was waiting at her door with a soft towel and warm tea.
> "You made it?" Mina whispered.
"I made it."
Florida leaned into her friend for just a second — not too long. Then tucked away her designs, cleared her inbox, erased her phone history.
Tomorrow, everything would go back to normal.
Or so she thought.
---
The Next Morning
The breakfast table was colder than usual.
Bryant was already seated when she entered — reading the paper, though his eyes didn't move.
Mina placed her tea down gently, avoiding eye contact.
Florida sat.
The silence scraped across her skin.
> "Did you see your aunt yesterday?"
The question came sharp, out of nowhere.
She looked up, feigning surprise. "Yes."
> "Did she enjoy your new perfume?"
Her throat went dry. Her tea cup paused halfway to her lips.
> "We talked," she answered carefully. "About the past. And the future."
Bryant finally looked up. The edges of his mouth twitched.
> "Fascinating. I've always found liars intriguing."
Then he stood.
She followed him with her eyes — until he paused beside her chair and dropped something on the table.
Face down.
> "Do yourself a favor," he said, low. "Don't flip that over until I'm gone."
He walked out of the room without a second glance.
She stared at the photo.
She didn't need to turn it.
She already knew.
---
END OF CHAPTER 28