STOLEN MEMORIES

Selene didn't sleep. She lay on her mattress, staring at the ceiling, replaying every moment from the day before. The folder. The photo. The note. The message. "I know who you are." And then the text: "If you want answers, come alone. Tonight. 11 p.m. 17th and Mercer." She hadn't responded. She hadn't told anyone. There was no one to tell. At 10:45 p.m., she stood outside the building. It was old, brick-faced, tucked between a shuttered café and a pawn shop. No cameras. No signs. Just a single flickering streetlamp and the hum of distant traffic. She stepped inside. The hallway smelled like dust and secrets. A single bulb buzzed overhead. At the end of the corridor, a door opened. He was there. Darius Vane. No suit. No assistant. Just him - in a black shirt, sleeves rolled, eyes unreadable. "You came," he said. "I want answers." He gestured to a chair. "Sit." She didn't move. He sighed. "You're not here to intern. You're here because of your mother." "You ruined her." "She tried to ruin me first." "She was defending herself." He leaned against the wall. "She was brilliant. But she underestimated me." Selene's jaw tightened. "She trusted the wrong people." "She trusted herself too much." Silence. He stepped closer. "You think I'm the villain." "You are." He smiled. "Then why are you here?" She didn't answer. He walked to a cabinet, pulled out a file, and tossed it on the table. "Your mother's case. Everything she tried to hide." Selene opened it. Photos. Emails. Contracts. And a letter - signed by her mother. Her hands trembled. "She had been secretly planning to sell her company to a competitor. Behind your back. Behind everyone's." "No," Selene whispered. "She wanted out. She just didn't want you to know." Selene stared at the letter. The handwriting. The date. "She was protecting me." "Or protecting herself." He sat across from her. "You came for revenge. But you don't know the whole story." "I know enough." "Do you?" He leaned in. "What if I told you she asked me to destroy it?" Selene blinked. "You're lying." "I have the recordings." She stood. "I don't believe you." He didn't stop her. "Tomorrow," he said, "you'll see the truth." She left. The night swallowed her. But the file stayed in her hand. Back in her apartment, Selene opened the file again. And there - tucked between the pages - was a photo she'd never seen before. Her mother. In Darius's office. Smiling. The timestamp read: two weeks before the collapse. She stared at it for a long time. The next morning, she arrived at Vane Holdings at 6:58 a.m. Darius was already there, standing by the window, watching the city wake up. "You're early," he said. "You said 7." He turned. "I meant emotionally." She didn't respond. He handed her a flash drive. "Play it." She plugged it into her laptop. The screen flickered. A video loaded. Her mother. Sitting across from Darius. Laughing. "I want out," her mother said. "I'm tired. I want to disappear." "You know what that means," Darius replied. "I do." "You'll lose everything." "I've already lost too much." Selene paused the video. Her throat tightened. "She was sick," Darius said quietly. "She didn't tell you." Selene looked at him. "Why are you showing me this?" "Because you deserve the truth." She stood. "You think this changes anything?" "I think it changes everything." She walked to the door. "Selene," he said. She turned. "I didn't destroy her. I honored her request." She left without answering. That night, she sat in her apartment, staring at the flash drive. Her phone buzzed. Unknown number. "You're not the only one with secrets. Ask him about Project Ember." She froze. Project Ember. She'd never heard of it. She typed the words into her browser. Nothing. She tried again. Still nothing. She stared at the message. Who sent it? Why now? And what was Project Ember? She didn't sleep.