“So how do we start digging ?” He asked Hannah after much thought. “The police already did their job, Hannah. There’s no more evidence to find." "Says who?" Hannah shot back, her voice carrying an edge to it. She walked over and sat across from him. "Think about it—was there anything the police mentioned when you talked to them? Anything that seemed important?" Joe frowned, searching his memory. "Well... Chief Ken mentioned Martin, the ex-employee who drove the stolen van. He said Martin claimed Mr. Adam hired him." "Bingo," Hannah said, snapping her fingers. "That’s your lead. Why not go to the police station and get all the information you can about Martin? He might know something they missed." Joe stared at her, still unsure. "And how exactly is that going to help? I mean, if the police already interrogated him, what could I possibly learn that they didn’t?" Hannah leaned forward, her gaze steady. "It’s not about what they missed. It’s about you finding clarity for yours

When Joe arrived at the police station, he burst through the doors, startling everyone in the lobby. He made a beeline for Chief Ken’s office. "Chief!" Joe called out, his voice was sharp and urgent. Chief Ken stepped out of his office, raising an eyebrow at Joe’s disheveled appearance and the folder clutched in his hand. "Joe, what’s going on?" Joe slammed the folder onto Ken’s desk. "I just stumbled across new evidence. You need to see this." Chief Ken’s expression shifted to one of curiosity as he opened the folder. His eyes widened as he skimmed the pages. "Where did you find this?" "In Mr. Adam’s room, hidden behind a shelf," Joe replied, his tone displayed with frustration. "This... this proves everything, doesn’t it? He was stealing from the company all along!" Chief Ken leaned back in his chair, his face had changed and the changes grew by each passing second. "This is... significant. These documents clearly show unauthorized transfers. If this is authentic,

Joe and Hannah had been driving for hours when the glow of a roadside sign caught Hannah’s eye. She pulled off the highway and into the parking lot of a quaint vacation inn surrounded by tall pines and the quiet hum of crickets. “This is where we’re staying tonight,” Hannah said, switching off the car engine. Joe nodded, stretching his legs as he stepped out of the car. “Looks cozy enough,” he muttered, scanning the surroundings closely . Inside the inn’s small lobby, the receptionist greeted them with a warm smile. “Welcome! Do you have a reservation?” “No, but we’re looking for a room for the night,” Hannah replied cheerfully. The receptionist hesitated, glancing at her computer screen. “You’re in luck—we’ve got one room left.” “One room?” Joe raised an eyebrow, looking at Hannah. “It’s just for the night,” Hannah said nonchalantly. “We’ll manage.” Joe sighed but didn’t argue as Hannah signed them in. The receptionist handed over the key, and they made their way to t

“What do you want?” Joe said after picking the call.“Finally!” Timothy said, with a bit of an edge to his voice. “Why haven’t you been answering my calls? Do you know about Mr. Adam’s arrest?” Joe didn’t respond right away. He tried to steady his tone before actually speaking.“Of course, you know about it,” Timothy continued. “And you’re not doing anything about it, are you?” Joe frowned, his patience was decreasing by the second, and the last thing he wanted was lashing out at Timothy. “Did your mother put you up to this?” “What? No,” Timothy replied defensively. “I decided to call you and—” Joe cut him off. “Don’t lie to me. I know Lady Penelope is behind this. She’s the only one who’d push you to lecture me like this.” Timothy hesitated. “I swear, Joe, this is my idea. I just think you’re doing the wrong thing here. You know the Sanchez gang is behind this mess, don’t you?” Joe stayed silent, the name of the gang sending a ripple of unease through him. The fact that

Joe went to the bar to see Mr. Creed the next day. He spotted Mr. Creed at a corner table, with a drink in his hand and an easy smile on his face. The older man waved Joe over, gesturing to the empty chair across from him. “Joe, my boy!” Mr. Creed greeted warmly. “I was wondering if you’d show up. Have a seat.” Joe sat down, ordering a whiskey neat from the waitress who appeared almost instantly. “I thought about what you said last night,” Joe began. “About my father and the project you two were working on. I’m curious.” Creed nodded, swirling his drink thoughtfully. “Curiosity is good. It’s the foundation of ambition. But I have something to show you that will explain things far better than my words.” Joe raised an eyebrow. “What do you mean?” “Come with me to my room,” Creed said, standing and downing the rest of his drink. “I’ve been digging through old files and papers, and there’s something you need to see.” Joe nodded and Mr. creed turned to the bartender.“Keep the