pte

Brus

goodbye," she whispered. "You told me to," Fred said. The past bled into the present. Rebecca watched from the hallway mirror, unseen but knowing. Outside, Samuel decoded Don's cryptic message realizing the Que

illiams Coleman knew the truth Sophia was more than beauty and rhythm. She was hidden behind songs and sequins and served as his eyes and ears. As Don's personal secretary, Sophia moved through two worlds. By day, she sorted schedules, memoranda, and church donations. She reminded Don of scripture, peppered board meetings with Latin proverbs, and escorted vis

only to extract what they never meant to give. It wasn't molestation in the legal sense, but Sophia had a gift for turning the tables arousin

ke the others he didn't want control. He wanted truth.

who saw Sophia as a threat even then. Fred disappeared, sent away by Don for reaso

onging. But things had changed. She was no longer merely a secretary or dancer. She was a pawn promoted to queen or knight, depen

past the mirrored column where Rebecca had once danced in defiance. His eyes were on the hallway that led to

are you,"

d took a seat on the cracked velvet chair. Sophia stood. Nothing

e. Something about

es flickered

his head. "C

ly. I've burned in t

ne. One word: Trap.

o l

deeper, like a memory collapsing. The room tilted. Fred stood. T

forgot,"

she whispe

on the board weren't just Fred or Rebecca or Sophia. It was

ar, a glance that lingered too long. Sophia's dance lost its rhythm because she felt watched, not just by eyes

oze. Not in fear but recognition. That freeze revealed something sha

n he finally spoke to Forlan, the room tightened. "Let the snake dance," he said-not as a metaphor, but a strategy. Kelvin knew

d time, realizing it wasn't just warning it was prophecy. Fred was the knight.

one knew the ending. That was the tension the absence of clar