The city was almost deserted when Clara arrived at the address Eleanor had sent her.
It was an old private residence tucked behind a row of renovated buildings. Its iron gate stood slightly open, and a single light glowed behind the curtains.
Clara checked her phone.
I'm here. Where are you?
A reply appeared almost immediately.
Upstairs. Come alone.
Clara took a slow breath before entering.
She had promised Arthur she would contact him if anything went wrong. She had no intention of breaking that promise, but Eleanor's message had made one thing clear: whatever she wanted to reveal, she was terrified of someone discovering it.
The staircase creaked beneath Clara's heels.
At the end of the corridor, a door opened.
Eleanor stood there.
She looked considerably older than Clara remembered, her face pale and her eyes shadowed by sleepless nights.
"You came."
"You said you had proof."
Eleanor glanced down the corridor before pulling her inside.
"Close the door."
