Chapter 77. Could He Have?

“Father would never…” Her own assertion sounded hollow even to her ears. “But then again,” she murmured aloud, pacing the length of the grand windows, “desperation can poison even the purest heart.”

The light from the city outside slanted in through the floor-to-ceiling panes, casting long, fractured shadows that danced across the polished floors and ornate rug. Each flicker seemed to mock her uncertainty, a visual echo of the chaos whirling inside her mind. The news article on her desk, stark and black-and-white, lay like an accusatory finger pointing toward truths she was only beginning to suspect. Was it a warning? A revelation? Or both?

“Connected? It can’t be,” she muttered, the thought unfurling in her mind like a dark flower blooming too quickly. Each petal carried a question, each thorn a nagging doubt. She could almost feel the edges prickling at her consciousness, reminding her tha