"What?" Lionel shot up from his chair. "Are there any casualties? What caused it?"


    Owen stood across the street, watching the mes engulf the building. "No casualties. They had an impromptu team-building day today. The initial report says an employee might have tossed a lit cigarette onto a pile of documents, but they haven''t identified who yet."


    Lionel sat back down, drumming his fingers on the desk. The timing was too perfect, too convenient. It felt intentional.


    He thought back. The first time he''d tried to get the surveince footage, Xenia had immediately stepped forward to confess. If she hadn''t, the investigation would have been much more difficult. Now, the second he asked for the footage again, the ce goes up in mes. It was as if someone was actively trying to stop him.


    "Besides Mr. Jones, did anyone else know you were going to the firm?" Lionel finally asked.


    Owen thought for a moment. He was about to mention that he had called Sandra, but in Mr. Rosenberg''s eyes, Ms. Woods wasn''t just "anyone else."


    "No one," he said.


    After a long silence, Lionel spoke. "Alright, I understand. You stay there and keep an eye on things. Let me know the second you find out who started the fire."


    "Yes, sir!"


    Owen hung up and stared at his dark phone screen. "Should I call Ms. Woods?" he muttered to himself. "Yeah, I probably should."


    He called Sandra and filled her in. On the other end of the line, she feigned panic, peppering him with questions before saying she needed to call her colleagues and abruptly ending the call.


    Then, she dialed Mr. Jones.


    "Mr. Jones, I remember you saying you wanted to move to Nyden to be with your daughter. Why not take this opportunity? You''re not getting any younger; it''s about time you retired. Don''t worry about the money, I''ll take care of it. Just send me a copy of your ticket once it''s booked."


    She listened impassively to his profuse thanks, then hung up and contacted the owner of a luxury resale boutique to schedule a meeting. The money she had on hand wasn''t enough. To keep Mr Jones quiet the needed more than just a ne ticket and some living expenses.


    After a moment''s thought, she found a picture she had taken of the ne


    Lionel had given her.


    Sandra: [Do you have this in stock?]


    Owner: [Yes, Ms. Woods, we do.]


    Sandra: [Bring it with you this afternoon.]


    Thank God Lionel had been so generous with jewelry over the years. Otherwise, she''d be in real trouble. The thought only soured her mood further. The Woods family''s problems were still unresolved, her mother was relentlessly pushing her to go on dates with rich old men, and Quennel had sabotaged all her recent projects. It had nothing to do with him, yet he seemed determined to make her life miserable.


    The more she thought about it, the angrier she got, and she kicked the wall in frustration.


    That evening, Hannah returned from her appointment, but when she entered her hotel room, she found it empty. All of her luggage was gone.


    She stood frozen for a moment, then called the front desk. She ran through the possibilities—wrong room, a burry, a cleaning mistake—but nothing could have prepared her for the truth.


    Lionel hade and taken all of her belongings.