Maya stared at the note in her hand. It had been slid under her apartment door sometime after midnight—no name, no signature, just five words in careful handwriting:
"He knows more than you."
Her heart hammered. She read it again.
Who was he? And what did he know?
For a moment, the quiet she'd fought so hard to build around her life felt fragile. Thin. Like glass before a storm.
Earlier that day, she'd met with Cam again. The connection between them was becoming undeniable, but today he'd been... distant. Guarded. As if he were holding something back.
Now this note.
She folded the paper slowly, her breath steadying. Maya wasn't the same broken girl from six months ago. The shadows hadn't disappeared, but she'd learned how to walk through them without being swallowed whole.
Still, she needed answers.
The next morning, she went to the museum early. It was quiet—too quiet. She walked through the exhibit halls until she found him near the painting they'd first stood before.
"Cam," she said. He turned, surprised.
"I got a message," she continued. "About you."
His eyes narrowed. "What kind of message?"
"Someone thinks you're hiding something."
He looked down, then away. "They're not wrong."
Maya waited. No anger. Just calm.
He took a breath. "I was there, Maya. The night your father was arrested."
Silence pressed in.
"You knew him?"
"I worked security... part-time. I didn't know it was your dad, not then. But I saw something. Something that didn't make sense. And I've been trying to piece it together ever since."
Maya felt her chest tighten, but she didn't break.
"Why didn't you tell me?"
"Because I didn't want you to see me as part of that world. I didn't want to lose you."
Her voice trembled. "I don't need you to protect me from the truth, Cam. I need you to stand with me while I face it."
He nodded. "Then we face it together