They drove straight to JM Investments, parking in a quiet, easily overlooked spot. Business there had been slow recently, and at that hour, the building was dark and still. Myron carried her inside and all the way up. No lights were switched on; they relied on moonlight spilling through the windows to guide them to Millie’s office.

Inside, the room remained dim, illuminated only by the faint glow of the computer screen. Millie’s fingers flew across the keyboard.

Myron stayed just outside the office, standing watch to make sure no one came near to disrupt her.

Millie’s hands shook slightly as she stared at the blue diamond necklace resting nearby. Myron had assured her it had never left his possession all those years. Even when he went to the Bennett family to ask for help, her father had examined it only briefly before handing it back.

Later, Archie had passed along all of her father’s communication records from the period before his death, including casual mentions of the necklace. She had checked the necklace carefully back then but found nothing out of the ordinary. MKK had been cooperative, but they never volunteered highly sensitive information unless there was no alternative. At that time, her father had worked closely with MKK for years, and she had used their current crisis to extract a vast amount of information.

As for this necklace: under normal circumstances, it appeared completely ordinary. Yet after being soaked in blood and then cleaned, something had changed.

Myron’s explanation had made it clear to her. The blue diamond necklace had always carried the Bennett family crest, which was how Myron had been able to approach them for help. But now there were faint, additional markings woven into the crest. Looking closely, Millie recognized them for what they were: a code. The markings were so subtle they could easily be mistaken for part of the design by anyone not paying close attention. And even if someone did notice them, they would likely be dismissed as decorative details.

But Millie knew better than that. Her father had left her many belongings, and markings like these were codes. The black box her father had left behind, along with its layered encryption, had been a puzzle she had tried, and failed, to fully unravel for years. Still, she had understood the overall logic behind them. So the moment she saw the pattern, she knew what it was. This was a clue her father had deliberately left for her.

Her hands continued to shake as she began entering the code. The pattern itself was straightforward, but the sequence of letters and digits it carried was long and complex. And the more complex it became, the faster Millie’s heart raced with excitement.

In the darkness, the laptop screen refreshed in rapid bursts, lines of code streaming upward like a restless tide. The pace quickened, faster and faster, each flash of text slicing through the stillness of the room.

Then, after a final jitter of pixels, the screen steadied. New lines emerged, stark and deliberate, as though typed by an unseen hand.

The first line read: “Millie, it’s Dad. It’s been a while. Do you miss me?”

Millie’s hand trembled around the mouse, her knuckles whitening as the corners of her eyes flushed with a hot, stinging red.

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