My sister was buried on a Tuesday.
Most people had already left the cemetery. A few relatives stayed behind, talking quietly near the cars.
I stood by the grave a little longer.
The priest had said a lot of things about Elena. Kind, bright, full of life. None of it helped me understand why she was suddenly dead.
The police called it suicide. I didn't believe them.
Elena and I spoke two days before she died. She complained about work, about long hours and office politics, but she didn't sound like someone planning to end her life.
If anything, she sounded angry. Angry people usually don't give up that easily.
I looked at the fresh dirt covering the coffin.
"You always did leave problems for me to solve," I whispered.
No answer, obviously.
I was about to leave when I noticed someone across the road.
A tall man in a dark coat, standing beside a black car, watching the funeral.
I recognized him immediately.
Adrian Blackwood.
Billionaire investor. Founder of Blackwood Technologies. And the last man who saw my sister alive.
He didn't move. He watched.
Our eyes met. He didn't look away. Interesting. Most people avoid eye contact with the grieving family at funerals. Adrian Blackwood didn't seem to care about that.
I started walking toward him.
By the time I reached the road, he was still standing in the same place. Up close, he looked exactly like he did in interviews. Calm, well put together, the kind of man who knows he's in control of the room.
"Mr. Blackwood," I said.
He nodded.
"You must be Aria Vale."
So he already knew who I was.
"That saves me the trouble of introducing myself," I said.
"I make it a habit to know the families of my employees," he replied.
Polite. Probably rehearsed.
"You don't usually see CEOs at the funerals of junior staff."
"Your sister worked closely with my team," he said.
Worked. Past tense.
I watched his face for a moment, trying to see if anything slipped through the calm expression. Nothing did.
"Did you like her?" I asked.
"She was capable," he answered.
Not exactly warm praise.
"Capable people usually don't kill themselves," I said.
Silence.
For a second, I wondered if he would deny it. Instead, he asked, "You don't believe the police report."
"No," I said.
At least that part of the conversation was honest.
Cars passed on the road behind us. Someone from my family called my name in the distance. Neither of us moved.
Adrian studied me like he was trying to figure out what I was planning. That was fair. I was doing the same thing.
"You think I know something about your sister's death," he said.
"I think you were the last person who saw her alive," I replied.
"According to the police report?"
"Yes."
Another quiet pause.
"And what do you plan to do with that suspicion?"
"I'm still deciding."
Not entirely true. But I didn't see any reason to tell him my plans yet.
Adrian looked back toward the cemetery for a moment. Then his eyes returned to mine.
"Be careful, Miss Vale," he said.
"Why?"
"Because sometimes the answers people look for aren't the ones they expect."
A small smile formed on my lips.
"Good," I replied. "Because I'm not afraid of danger."
For the first time since I approached him, something changed in his expression. Not guilt. Not anger. Interest. The kind of interest a predator might show when something unexpected walks into its territory.
He opened the car door behind him.
"I'm sure we'll speak again," he said.
"Probably," I replied.
Because one way or another, I was going to find out what happened to my sister. Even if it meant stepping directly into the world of Adrian Blackwood.