The bus rattled as it pulled away from the station, carrying Naomi farther from the life she had known. She sat near the window, watching buildings fade into unfamiliar streets. The city felt different now, as if she were seeing it from the outside for the first time.
Ethan Rowe.
The name circled her thoughts, refusing to settle. She could not remember where she had first heard it, only that it had been spoken in a low voice, heavy with caution. Her father had never explained who the man was or why his name mattered.
Naomi pulled out her phone and searched the name. The results were scattered and unhelpful. A few old articles. A business listing that no longer existed. No photos. No clear trail.
That alone made her uneasy.
People with nothing to hide did not vanish so completely.
The bus stopped near the edge of the city. Naomi stepped off and followed the directions from a saved address she barely remembered writing down years ago. She had once asked her father about it. He had changed the subject.
Now she knew why.
The building stood between two abandoned shops, its sign faded and crooked. The windows were dark, covered in dust. It looked empty, forgotten.
Naomi hesitated.
Every instinct told her to turn around. To go somewhere safe. Somewhere ordinary. But safety had never protected her father.
She pushed the door open.
The smell of old paper and oil filled the narrow space. Shelves lined the walls, cluttered with boxes and broken equipment. A single desk sat near the back, buried beneath stacks of files.
Someone cleared their throat.
Naomi spun around.
A man stood in the shadows near the doorway, tall and thin, his face marked by years of exhaustion rather than age. His eyes studied her carefully, not with surprise, but recognition.
"You look like him," he said quietly.
Naomi's heart raced. "You knew my father."
The man nodded once. "Better than he wanted you to know."
She swallowed. "Are you Ethan Rowe?"
A pause stretched between them.
"Yes."
Relief and fear crashed into her at the same time.
"I think someone is threatening me," Naomi said. "They mentioned my father. They mentioned you."
Ethan exhaled slowly, as if he had been expecting this moment for years. "I warned him this would happen."
"Warned him about what?"
"About the people who do not forgive questions," he replied. "About the cost of truth."
Naomi stepped closer. "Then tell me everything."
Ethan met her gaze. "Once I do, there is no turning back."
She did not hesitate. "I already crossed that line."
Silence filled the room. Then Ethan nodded and gestured toward the desk.
"Sit," he said. "If you are going to fight, you need to understand what you are fighting against."
Naomi sat down, her pulse steadying as determination replaced fear.
For the first time since her father died, she felt closer to the truth than ever before.
And she knew her life would never be the same again.
