Amara's POV :
I made it three blocks from Vale Industries before my hands started shaking.
Not from fear but from adrenaline, from the way Roman had grabbed my arm and pulled me close, from the look in his eyes when I mentioned his father.
I'd gotten to him. Finally.
But I hadn't gotten answers.
I stopped at a coffee shop and ordered something I didn't want, just needed somewhere to sit that wasn't moving, somewhere I could breathe.
The barista handed me a latte and I found a corner table, pulled out my phone.
Three missed calls from Ethan, one text from Greg asking where my latest assignment was.
I ignored both and opened the file Ethan had sent on Martin Lowe.
Senior financial advisor, twenty years at Vale, reported directly to the CFO. Before that he'd worked on special projects, the kind that didn't have detailed descriptions in company records.
Special projects. Like whatever Dad had been consulting on.
I pulled up Vale's main number and dialed.
"Vale Industries, how may I direct your call?"
"Martin Lowe's office, please."
"One moment."
The line clicked, rang twice.
"Mr. Lowe's office." A woman's voice, professional.
"Hi, I'm calling to schedule a meeting with Mr. Lowe. I'm a journalist working on a story about Vale's history and I'd love to get his perspective on some earlier projects."
"Mr. Lowe doesn't do press interviews. You'll need to go through our communications department."
"I understand, but this is specifically about work he did in the early 2000s and I think he'd be interested..."
"Mr. Lowe doesn't do interviews. Thank you."
She hung up.
I stared at my phone.
Blocked, just like every other lead at Vale, which meant either Martin Lowe didn't talk to press or someone had told him not to talk to me specifically.
I was betting on the second one.
I drank my coffee and watched people walk past the window, living normal lives, not chasing ghosts or getting death threats or lying to their roommates.
I finished and left, headed for the subway.
---
The ride home felt too long, every stop making me check over my shoulder, every person who got on making my pulse jump.
By the time I got to my building I was exhausted.
I climbed the stairs, unlocked my door and stepped inside.
And froze.
Sarah was sitting on the couch.
In her hand was the black rose.
"What the hell is this?" Her voice was quiet but there was fury underneath.
I closed the door slowly. "Where did you find that?"
"On the kitchen counter where you left it. I got home early and there it was, just sitting there with a crumpled note in the trash." She held up the note I'd thrown away. "'Last warning.' Want to explain?"
"Sarah..."
"No. Don't 'Sarah' me. Don't deflect. Just tell me what's going on."
I set my bag down and tried to figure out what to say, how much to tell her.
"Someone's been threatening me."
"Yeah, I got that part. Who?"
"I don't know."
"Why?"
"Because I've been asking questions about Vale Industries."
She stared at me. "The company your dad worked for."
"Yeah."
"The one you went to the gala for, the one you've been obsessed with for weeks."
"I'm not obsessed."
"Amara, there's a black rose and a death threat in our apartment. That's past obsessed, that's dangerous." She walked over. "How long has this been going on?"
"Since the gala."
"That was over a week ago and you didn't think to mention it?"
"I didn't want you to worry."
"Well I'm worried now!" Her voice rose. "Someone left this in our home. Our home. They were in here while we were gone, touched our things, left a threat, and you just threw the note away and went to bed?"
"I wasn't going to let them scare me."
"They should scare you!" She ran her hands through her hair. "This is insane. You need to call the police."
"And tell them what? Someone left me a flower?"
"Someone threatened you, multiple times. That's stalking, that's a crime."
"It's also not something the police can help with. I have no proof, no names, nothing except a rose and some text messages from unknown numbers."
"Then show them the messages."
"They won't do anything."
"You don't know that."
"Yes I do. They'll file a report, tell me to be careful, send me home. And whoever's doing this will still be out there."
She stared at me like she didn't recognize me. "So what's your plan? Just keep going until they actually hurt you?"
"My plan is to find out what my father discovered before he died."
"And if you die trying?"
"I won't."
"You don't know that!" She stepped closer. "Listen to yourself. You're being stalked, threatened, someone broke into our apartment twice, and you're still acting like this is just some story."
"It's not just a story. It's my father."
"Your father's been dead for sixteen years. He's not coming back. But you can still die trying to figure out why."
The words stung.
We stared at each other, the black rose sitting between us like evidence of how far I'd gone.
"I can't just stop," I said quietly. "I've been chasing this for too long. I'm too close."
"Close to what? What do you actually know?"
"I know my father worked for Vale. I know he found something that scared him. I know three days before he died he told me if anything happened it wouldn't be an accident. And I know someone at Vale is desperate enough to threaten me to keep quiet."
Her face softened slightly. "Amara..."
"I have to finish this. For him. For me."
"Even if it gets you killed?"
"Even then."
She shook her head and walked to the window, looked out at the street. When she spoke again her voice was tired.
"I can't watch you do this. I can't sit here and wait for a call telling me you're dead because you were too stubborn to stop."
"I'm not asking you to."
"Yes you are. Every time you come home late, every time you lie about where you've been, every time you pretend everything's fine." She turned to face me. "You're asking me to watch you self-destruct and I can't do it."
Something twisted in my chest. "Sarah..."
"I love you. You're my best friend. But I can't be part of this anymore." She grabbed her jacket. "I'm staying at the hospital tonight. There's a room for overnight staff. You should think about whether this is really worth dying for."
"Where are you going?"
"Away from here. Away from this." She stopped at the door, hand on the handle. "I meant what I said. I can't lose you. So either you stop this or I'm done watching you chase ghosts."
She left.
The door closed and I was alone.
I stood there for a long time, Sarah's words playing in my head.
*You're asking me to watch you self-destruct.*
Was that what I was doing?
Maybe.
But I'd come too far to stop now.
I walked to my bedroom and pulled out the box I kept under my bed, the one with Dad's things Mom hadn't thrown away: a watch that didn't work anymore, his press badge from when he'd been a journalist before switching to auditing, a photo of him holding me when I was six, both of us laughing.
I stared at the photo.
He looked so alive in it, so present, like he'd never imagined he'd be gone before I turned thirteen, like he thought he had all the time in the world.
But he didn't get that time.
Someone took it from him.
And they were trying to take my questions away now with roses and threats and break-ins.
But I wasn't twelve anymore and I wasn't going to let them.
I set the photo down and looked around my empty apartment,I felt the weight of Sarah's absence and the quiet that came from pushing away everyone who cared.
This was the cost. Isolation,choosing the dead over the living.
But what choice did I have?
If I stopped now, if I let them win, then Dad's last words meant nothing,then everything I'd sacrificed for the past six years was for nothing.
I couldn't live with that.
I put Dad's things back and slid the box under the bed, stood up and walked back to the living room.
The black rose was still on the coffee table, petals so dark they looked like ink.
I picked it up and carried it to the kitchen,then dropped it in the trash where it belonged.
Last warning.
They thought I'd stop,thought I'd run. Thought a flower and a note would be enough.
They were wrong.
I grabbed my laptop and sat on the couch, pulled up everything I had on Martin Lowe again, cross-referenced his employment dates with Dad's contract timeline, looked for overlap. Three months where they both worked at Vale at the same time, three months where their projects might have crossed paths.
I wrote down the dates, made notes, planned my next move.
Sarah was right about one thing: I was self-destructing.
But I was taking Vale's secrets down with me.
And whoever killed my father was going to answer for it.
Even if I had to burn everything else to the ground to make that happen.