Six weeks ago.
A cold knot formed in my stomach. Six weeks ago, I was still just Peter Carter. Still getting thrown into trash cans, still an invisible nobody. A week and a half later, I got the system.
"There's more," ARIA continued. "Banking records show Kayla has made zero personal expenditures since receiving her signing bonus. No apartment lease. No condo purchase. No car payments until the Bentley two weeks ago. Cross-referencing building security logs from this address..."
She fucking lived here.
"Confirmed. Security footage shows Kayla using a visitor's cot in the upstairs office for sixty-seven of the last seventy nights. She has poured her every single dollar of her salary into this studio. Everything. The food, the furniture... everything."
My cynical armor shattered. It didn't just crack; it atomized. I looked at Kayla, really looked at her. At the dark circles under her eyes she'd tried to conceal with makeup. At the slight gauntness to her features.
