The Banker's secret

pte

the Su

, including her stiffened posture and her darting eyes toward the servers as if they were searching for danger. not ambiguity. Recognition. She had detected something. something actual Inside, Elena paced, barefoot on the cold marble tiles, heart hammering with memories she'd buried deep. Accounts offshore. Routes for trafficking. Zanzibar. Kiran

something t

back. However, he was not a man to be scared easily. "I performed a sweep. You're a ghost. No family, no history, and

u must inform me if you are in trouble." She said in a low voice, "I can't." "And I will not." The silence thickened the room. Music from the beach below pulsed through the night outside. They didn't, however, he

heir own. Someone

ones. At 29, she had already brought down two arms-dealing cartels, exposed a child trafficking ring in Romania, and vanished from thre

luencer whose corruption thrived in shadows. Elena's organization, Lucerna, operated without borders or national allegiances. Truth was the only creed, and Rodrick Vale's truth was harmful. She first met him at a private auction along the coast. Elena wore a backless blac

n?" he asked, his voice lik

a in the guise of discussing "philanthropic ventures." Rodrick was euphoric. Not just in bed, where he made her forget the icy lines of strategy, but also in the way he talked about architecture, art, and power's fragility. He was a genius. He was brutal. He kissed her like he was trying to forget about her. The

She had forty-seven minutes. sufficient time to crack the lock on his private safe. Inside was a flash drive. Red. The name is Hesperia. As she plugged it into her hidden reader, names, dates, and accounts from

e heard

len

la, rain dripping from his collar. He he

. "You weren't sup

sonal archive." She whispered, "I know." They exchanged blank stares. The sile

eal?" He inquire

forward. "Was

dn't live in the black-and-white world she came from.

t know,"

I should sh

llite footage, government memos, private correspondences. The files weren't of arms deals-but of count

s breat

rm. "You have the option of burning me. However, once the fire has subsided, consider, "Who put me here?" She did not return my call. Later, in her safeho

, Elena felt her hands shake. His jaw tighten

ing's off." "He has documents on us-real documents. He knows about the Lagos

en compromised." "No," she said too q

accused. "You did the

is worse." The room was suffocating. She was consumed by a storm of h

'll take either his or your head. That night, Rodrick appear

let h

ouldn't name. As if in desperate confession, her hands swept across his bod

e morning. So was

pty case, heart poundin

he betray