The Blackwood mansion was quiet at 11:30 PM.
Emily stood in front of her bathroom mirror, dressed in dark jeans and a black sweater. Her hair was pulled back in a simple ponytail. No jewelry. No unnecessary items. She looked like someone preparing for either a covert operation or a quick escape.
Old habits from another life.
Her phone sat on the counter, Timothy's last message still glowing on the screen.
Timothy: Sleep well. I'll see you in the morning.
She'd responded with a simple goodnight, nothing that would raise suspicion. Timothy was in his office handling international calls something about a merger in Singapore. He'd be occupied for at least another two hours.
Enough time.
Emily slipped her phone into her pocket and moved to her bedroom door, opening it slowly. The hallway was empty, lit only by the soft glow of accent lighting along the baseboards.
