#Chapter 80: Old Wounds

Amelia I wore my hair down and dressed in careful neutrality, the sort of outfit that didn’t ask questions and didn’t invite them either. The fabric was soft, understated, professional. Pulled from the back of my closet, it carried no scent of Richard, no association with our campaign. It was the kind of outfit someone might wear to a harmless liaison meeting or a low-stakes administrative errand. I walked into David’s headquarters like I belonged there, posture loose, expression calm, heart pounding. Jason was the last name on the access logs. The only one that didn’t make sense. His fingerprints were still all over the sabotaged press release, though he hadn’t been seen in weeks. If he was still working remotely, that meant someone had given him clearance. Someone close. Someone dangerous. I needed to see him. I needed to look him in the eye and figure out where the knife had come from this time. The receptionist barely looked up. Her orange nails clicked against the keyboard,