The late afternoon sun cast a golden glow on the mansion's stone façade as the black military SUV eased through the iron gates. Its quiet purr echoed slightly against the high walls that guarded the estate. Inside, the house stood still,too still;as if though too waited for its master to return.
The driver stepped out first, opening the back door with respectful precision. Logan Smith emerged slowly, tall and broad-shouldered, his dark green coat still buttoned to his collar despite the warmth of the day. His military boots made a soft thud on the stone path. His face was unreadable, carved in stone. Only the slight pinch between his brows betrayed the exhaustion tightening its grip on him.
Anita, with her gray-streaked hair pulled into a bun hurried to the front steps.
"General," she said warmly, but with the formal respect she never failed to show. "Welcome home."
Logan gave a faint nod, his eyes scanning the quiet yard before returning to Anita's familiar face.
"Any word?" he asked
"Nothing urgent, sir," she replied, her voice soft and practiced. "Theo will be home shortly. He's at the academy."
Logan gave another nod. "Good."
He shrugged off his coat. Anita moved instinctively to collect it. As she took the heavy garment, she noticed the lingering tension in his shoulders, the same tightness that hadn't left him since the bombing two days earlier.
"Will you have dinner now, sir?"
"No," he said, already moving toward the stairs. "Later. Just tell Theo to keep it down when he's back."
Anita nodded. "Of course."
"And no one disturbs me," Logan added, his voice sharper now. "Not for anything short of an emergency."
Anita gave a quiet "Yes, sir," clutching his coat tighter as she watched him ascend the stairs, his footsteps heavy yet unhesitating.
***
Monica had seen the SUV arrive from the sitting room window. The subtle shift in the house's air had warned her even before the vehicle came to a full stop. She'd been pacing earlier, mentally preparing herself for this exact moment, and now he was here.
She stood just past the hallway corner, her back pressed to the cool wall, heart thudding. She could hear his voice, low and calm, rumbling through the air like distant thunder. When she peeked, carefully; her eyes caught a full glimpse of him.
General Logan Smith.
This was her first time seeing him up close. And he was... overwhelming.
He wasn't just tall. He wasn't just handsome. He was the kind of presence that made you straighten your back and take a breath before speaking. His uniform looked like it had been made just for him, perfectly tailored, each medal and badge gleaming in the light. His voice was deep, but not harsh. Commanding. Sharp.
She studied him with veiled intensity, her eyes following the clean lines of his uniform, the authority uh that seemed to radiate from his very posture. Even fatigue did little to dull the strength in his strides or the sharpness in his gaze, and from this distance, she could see why people praised him. He looked as though he was carved from steel—stoic, strong, and refined.
She hated that she had to admit it.
But she knew better.
He might be captivating on the outside, but beneath that surface, she was convinced, was a man with secrets. Dangerous ones.
Monica hated that he looked so composed. So sure of himself. So painfully perfect.
She knew she shouldn't be watching him like this. But she couldn't help herself.
Her mind flashed back to the letter that no longer existed. The message. The fire. The funeral. The unanswered questions.
He disappeared up the stairs, and only then did she exhale—quietly. Her fists had clenched by her sides, and she hadn't even realized it. This was the man she was here to investigate. The man she believed might have had something to do with Davis's death.
And yet…
From afar, he didn't look like a killer.
But killers don't wear signs, do they?
She leaned her head gently against the wall and closed her eyes for a second.
This was it. There was no turning back now. She had come too far. And if there was a truth to uncover, she would find it even if it meant staying under the same roof as the man she had every reason to fear.
A door creaked softly behind her. Monica stepped back from the hallway, wiping all emotion from her face. She couldn't afford to let anyone, especially not Logan, see how rattled she was.
From the kitchen, Anita's voice floated, speaking softly to one of the maids.
Monica turned and made her way to the stairs. She wouldn't bother Logan today. Not yet. But soon.
Very soon.