The Pen
The botanical garden had long emptied by the time Anonymous disappeared down the winding path.
Ophelia waited another ten minutes before leaving.
It was one of the first lessons Anonymous had drilled into every new agent.
"Never leave together."
"Never let anyone connect the dots."
She smiled faintly.
Some lessons never faded.
The next morning, Ophelia was already at the gallery when her phone buzzed.
Anonymous
She answered immediately.
"You examined the pen."
"I did."
"And?"
"It wasn't purchased from a stationery store."
Ophelia frowned.
"What do you mean?"
"It's custom-made."
She walked into her office and quietly closed the door.
"Custom-made for whom?"
"I don't know yet."
"But I found the manufacturer."
She grabbed a notebook.
"I'm listening."
"The company only produces luxury pens for private clients."
"Corporate executives."
"Politicians."
"And wealthy families."
Ophelia's expression hardened.
"So the person in the Annex wasn't a random trespasser."
"No."
"They're someone with influence."
At the Ashford estate...
Nathan sat across from Elena in the sunroom.
She poured tea into delicate porcelain cups.
"You've been distracted lately," she observed.
Nathan gave a small smile.
"Work."
"I've known you since you were a little boy."
She looked at him over the rim of her teacup.
"I know when you're lying."
Nathan sighed.
"I'm trying to understand someone."
"Ophelia?"
He looked up in surprise.
"Was I that obvious?"
Elena chuckled softly.
"My dear, everyone can see you're watching her."
Nathan leaned back.
"I don't dislike her."
"But I don't understand her."
Elena smiled.
"Perhaps she isn't meant to be understood all at once."
Nathan remained silent.
"There are people," Elena continued gently, "who carry wounds they never speak about."
"They aren't hiding because they're guilty."
"They're hiding because they're hurting."
For the first time in days...
Nathan considered the possibility that he might be wrong.
That afternoon...
Ethan arrived at the gallery carrying two cups of coffee.
"I come bearing peace offerings."
Ophelia laughed.
"For what crime?"
"I've stolen too much of your free time lately."
She accepted one cup.
"I haven't minded."
Ethan smiled.
"I was hoping you'd say that."
He glanced around the gallery before lowering his voice.
"I wanted to ask you something."
"I'm listening."
"My grandmother's birthday is in two weeks."
Ophelia nodded.
"We're having a small family dinner."
"Nothing formal."
"I'd really like you to come."
She hesitated.
Another visit to the Ashford estate meant another opportunity to observe the family.
But it also meant stepping deeper into Ethan's life.
"I'd be honored."
His smile widened.
"I'll tell Grandmother."
"She'll probably start planning the menu immediately."
They both laughed.
Across the street...
A man sat inside a parked sedan.
A camera rested on the passenger seat.
He watched Ethan leave the gallery.
Then he focused his lens on Ophelia.
Click.
Click.
He picked up his phone.
"She's accepted another invitation."
A distorted voice answered.
"Good."
"Let her get closer."
The man frowned.
"Shouldn't we stop her?"
"No."
The voice remained calm.
"Sometimes..."
"...the easiest way to destroy someone..."
"...is to let them believe they're safe."
The line went dead.
The photographer looked back toward the gallery.
His expression remained unreadable.
That evening...
Ophelia returned home and placed the notebook on her desk.
She looked once more at April's diary.
Then at the sketch.
Then at the anonymous note.
Finally, she wrote a new sentence beneath her growing timeline.
The Fine Arts Annex. The engraved pen. The Ashford connection.
She paused before adding one final line.
Someone is watching every move I make.
Closing the notebook, she looked out into the darkness beyond her window.
"They're waiting for me to make a mistake."
Her voice was calm.
"They're going to be disappointed."
Visit and read more novel to help us update chapter quickly. Thank you so much!
Use arrow keys (or A / D) to PREV/NEXT chapter