The rain in the city didn’t wash things clean; it only made the grime more visible. Inside the apartment, the air was thick with the scent of expensive bourbon and the lingering perfume of a woman who had left an hour ago.
He didn’t want to be the hero. He just wanted to stop being the ghost in his own life. As he reached for the laptop, the screen flickered, reflecting a man he barely recognized. The file was ready. One click to silence the echoes, or one click to let them scream.
Mark stared at the small, unmarked USB drive on the mahogany desk. This was it—the "fix." The digital evidence that would either bury the scandal or ignite the entire harbor district. He thought about the choices that led him here, the echoes of a passion that had quickly turned into a dangerous game of leverage.
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