Liam's office was quiet without him in it.
He'd been called out ten minutes into their session — his assistant at the door, apologetic, something about a visitor who had arrived without an appointment and needed five minutes. He'd excused himself with the specific efficiency of someone who managed interruptions rather than being derailed by them. I'll be right back.
Aurora had nodded. Returned to her document.
Had been working for approximately four minutes before her eyes drifted.
It wasn't intentional. She wasn't looking for anything. The office was simply the kind of space that rewarded attention — she'd noticed that about it from the first day, the way it accumulated detail the longer you spent in it. Books that had been read. A photograph on the credenza that she'd never looked at directly but was aware of. The particular arrangement of the shelves that suggested someone who organized by usage rather than aesthetics.
Her eyes found the shelf.
Found the folder.
