But standing in that closet, pressed against expensive suits that smelled like power and danger, Vincent realized something terrifying.
The most secure place in his world had become the most vulnerable.
Elena kept her hand firm over his mouth.
Her dark eyes locked on his with an intensity that cut through the darkness.
She was not just hired help who cleaned his marble floors and polished his crystal.
She was the woman who had been invisible in his house for 3 years, moving through rooms like a ghost, listening to conversations that could topple governments, watching meetings that decided who lived and who disappeared.
Through the crack in the closet door, Vincent watched shadows move across his bedroom wall.
Multiple figures.
They moved with purpose, searching through his personal belongings with the confidence of people who believed they had all the time in the world.
One shadow paused near his nightstand.
Another moved toward his private safe, hidden behind the oil painting of his grandfather.
Elena’s grip tightened.
