43

Anderson skimmed through the file, eyes glossing over the list of names and family ties.

"Edward Victor... blah blah," he muttered, tossing the file onto the desk. "So, his name’s Edward." He leaned back, a dry chuckle escaping. "Maybe I’m just being paranoid."

He tapped his fingers rhythmically on the desk, the faint patter a reminder of his own growing impatience. The room felt colder than usual, the silence pressing in from all sides. With a sigh, Anderson reached for his pen, scribbling a hefty sum onto a check.

"Not my style, but it’ll do for now," he muttered under his breath, tugging at his tie, trying to loosen the suffocating knot. He glanced at the door, ensuring it was tightly shut. Lately, the butler had been hovering, his presence a persistent annoyance. Anderson had too many secrets to keep, and the last thing he needed was someone piecing together the wrong story.

As if on cue, the door creaked open, and the butler stepped in, his footsteps too light for Anderson’s