Chapter 7– Paper Cuts and Promises
The ledger lay open on the hotel room table, its yellowed pages covered in tight, sharp handwriting. Elias, Liana, Mason, and Amara sat around it like it was sacred—because in a way, it was. A holy book of corruption. A trail of sins too big to stay buried.
"This can't be real," Liana murmured, her eyes scanning one of the entries.
June 12 – Payment approved to Judge H. Kells. Case against M.O. dismissed.
August 3 – Transfer to Altheon Pharmaceuticals CEO: hush money (gene therapy trials).
October 14 – 'Solarin Project' Phase 2 greenlit. Must erase whistleblowers.
Amara felt her skin crawl. The names. The numbers. The blood hidden behind every transaction. Myra had built an empire not just from legal manipulation, but from silence—paid for in full.
Mason's voice cut through the room. "This entry. The Solarin Project. That's not just a cover name. It's a real thing. Some kind of classified medical investment scheme. Experimental drugs, unethical testing. West was investigating it before she died."
Amara's jaw clenched. "She wasn't just protecting me. She was trying to end this."
Elias ran his fingers down another page, brow furrowed. "Here—'Target: M.S.' That's me."
Everyone fell quiet.
"She wanted me disbarred," Elias continued. "Maybe worse."
Liana leaned forward. "Then why haven't you been? Why are you still standing?"
Elias looked at Amara. "Because someone protected me from her. Maybe West. Maybe someone inside Myra's circle who had a change of heart."
Amara's pulse pounded in her ears.
"Tell him. Don't trust anyone."
The words flashed behind her eyes again. What if it was Elias? Could West have seen something she hadn't?
Mason broke the silence. "There's something else. The ledger—it's coded, partly. Names, dates. But there's a second book referenced on the last page. A key to decoding the full trail."
"Where is it?" Amara asked.
Michael stood in the corner, quiet until now. "I think I know. There's an apartment in Prague. One of West's safe houses. I helped her set it up years ago. She told me if anything happened to her, it'd be the final lockbox."
Liana narrowed her eyes. "You sure about that?"
Michael gave her a calm look. "I was her friend. I'm trying to be yours."
Amara stood, the tension in her shoulders sharp and heavy. "Then we go to Prague."
Elias hesitated. "Are we sure we can trust him?"
Michael met Elias's gaze evenly. "Are you sure you can be trusted?"
The room froze.
Something unspoken hung between the two men. Not anger. Something deeper. Older.
"Enough," Amara said, her voice firmer than before. "If we start turning on each other now, we've already lost. We stick together. But we keep our eyes open."
They moved quickly.
Tickets. Disguises. A small group. Michael, Elias, Amara, and Mason. Liana would stay behind to monitor the fallout—Myra's media machine had begun spinning again, trying to paint Amara as an emotionally unstable liar. The fire was spreading.
As they boarded the flight, Amara leaned back in her seat and opened West's letter one more time. Not the message. The envelope.
Inside the lining, her fingers found a thin slip of paper she hadn't noticed before.
"You'll know who he is when he lies to your face and calls it protection."
Her stomach dropped.
She looked at Elias, two rows ahead.
And wondered—was he the him?
Or someone else she hadn't even seen coming?
The streets of Prague were quiet when they arrived—early dawn, mist curling along the cobblestones like something out of a painting.
Michael led the way through winding alleyways, past sleepy bakeries and shuttered shops, until they reached a narrow building tucked between a bookstore and a faded music shop.
"This is it," he said, stopping before an old iron door. "She called it the 'silent corner.' No cameras. No noise."
Elias glanced at the street behind them. "Too quiet."
Mason picked the lock in less than a minute, and the four of them slipped inside.
The apartment was small but preserved—books still on shelves, a plant long-dead in the window, and a faint scent of lavender and wood. Amara stepped in slowly, like she was walking into a memory.
"This was hers," she whispered.
Michael nodded. "She came here when she needed to think. Or hide."
They searched in silence, each person combing through drawers, behind frames, under floorboards. It was Mason who found it.
A hollow spot behind a painting. Inside: a metal box with a fingerprint scanner.
Elias stepped closer. "Any idea whose print it needs?"
Michael didn't hesitate. "Try hers."
Amara pressed her thumb to the scanner. Nothing.
She frowned, then reached into her jacket and pulled out something she'd kept close for months: West's old silver ring. Inside, faint but visible, was a preserved print etched into the metal lining.
She pressed it to the scanner.
Click.
The box opened.
Inside lay another journal—sleeker, newer, encrypted. Alongside it was a flash drive and a sealed envelope with one word:
"Amara."
She opened it with trembling fingers. The handwriting was West's.
> "If you're reading this, I'm gone. And if he's with you—then he's lied to you. More than once. Don't let charm blind you. Remember who you are. You were never meant to be protected. You were meant to rise."
> "The flash drive holds video files. One of them will show you the truth about Elias."
Amara froze.
She looked up—Elias was standing by the window, watching her.
She tucked the letter into her coat. "Let's go. We need to review this somewhere safe."
But her mind was already spiraling.
He lied to you.
Could Elias really be the one West meant? Had he protected her... or manipulated her?
Later, in a small rented flat across the city, they plugged in the drive.
The screen blinked on.
A video loaded—grainy footage from inside a courtroom office.
A younger Elias, sitting across from Myra Solarin.
> "You'll get the promotion," Myra said smoothly. "Just make sure the case disappears. We don't want your little activist girl stirring too much noise."
> Elias leaned back. "She trusts me."
> Myra smiled. "Good. Keep it that way."
The video cut out.
Silence.
Amara stared at the screen, her hands shaking. Mason turned slowly toward Elias.
"You knew her before the case."
Elias didn't move. His face was pale. "That video is ten years old. It's not what it looks like."
But Amara's eyes burned. "You said you didn't know Myra personally. That she only came after you once you took my case."
"I lied," Elias admitted. "But I wasn't working for her. Not really. Not after what happened to West."
Amara stepped back, the betrayal slicing through her chest. "You said you were different."
"I am."
"Prove it."
The room felt colder. The light harsher. Everything had changed.
And in that moment, Amara realized—West had known.
She had known all along.