Amara smiled.

“Regret doesn’t mean I wish my father had been alone.”

Kenji looked at her.

“It means I wish life had given me another choice.”

Something in his expression changed.

Perhaps he understood that better than anyone.

Before either could speak again, Daniel entered.

“The message worked.”

Amara turned.

“What happened?”

Daniel held up his phone.

“Someone responded.”

Aiko approached.

“What did they say?”

Daniel read the message.

Bring the files. Come alone. No police.

Amara took a slow breath.

Kenji immediately shook his head.

“No.”

Amara looked at him.

“I’m going.”

“Absolutely not.”

“You promised.”

“I promised to listen. I did not promise to agree.”

Amara stepped closer.

“And if you try to stop me?”

Kenji stared at her.

She waited.

Finally, he smiled slightly.

“You remind me of my daughter.”

Aiko crossed her arms.

“That’s supposed to be an insult?”

For the first time since her disappearance, Kenji laughed.

A real laugh.

The tension in the room broke.

But it returned quickly.

The meeting was scheduled for midnight.

The warehouse would be dark.

Dangerous.

And impossible to control completely.

As Amara prepared to leave, Daniel handed her a small recording device.

“Keep this hidden.”

She nodded.

Kenji walked toward her.

For a moment, it looked as though he wanted to say something.

Instead, he bowed his head slightly.

Amara blinked.

“What are you doing?”

“In Japan, respect is sometimes expressed without words.”

She smiled.

“Good.”

Kenji looked up.

“Why?”

“Because I’m tired of talking about it.”

Then she turned and walked toward the elevator.

But just before the doors closed, her phone vibrated.

A message.

Unknown number.

She opened it.

There was only one sentence.

We know this is a trap.

The elevator doors closed.

And Amara suddenly realized that she might not be the one setting the trap after all.

The warehouse smelled of rust, rain, and old wood.

Amara stood near the center of the empty building with a black bag in her hand.

Inside was a laptop.

The laptop contained nothing important.

But the people coming for it did not know that.

A small recording device was hidden beneath her jacket.

Daniel and the authorities were nearby.

Kenji was supposed to be waiting in a vehicle several blocks away.

Supposed to be.

Amara checked her watch.

Midnight.

Then she heard footsteps.

One person entered through the far door.

Then another.

Then three more.

The man in front wore a gray coat.

Amara recognized him immediately.

Victor Hale.

“You’re difficult to kill,” Amara said.

Victor smiled.

“You’re difficult to scare.”

“I’m still deciding whether that’s a compliment.”

He stopped several feet away.

“Where are the files?”

Amara lifted the bag.

“Where’s your money?”

Victor laughed.

“You think this is a business transaction?”

“I was hoping.”

He moved closer.

“You have no idea what you’ve involved yourself in.”

“Actually, I’ve been getting a clearer picture.”

Victor’s smile disappeared.

“Then you know Mr. Takamori is not innocent.”

Amara felt her stomach tighten.

“What does that mean?”

Victor looked pleased.

“Didn’t he tell you?”

Amara said nothing.

Victor continued.

“Years ago, when Takamori Global was expanding, his company destroyed smaller competitors.”

“Business competition isn’t a crime.”

“Not all competition.”

He leaned closer.

“There were bribes. Threats. Agreements made with people who understood that money has no conscience.”

Amara stared at him.

Victor smiled.

“Your billionaire friend built an empire. Did you really believe his hands were clean?”

She wanted to say no.

But she remembered Kenji’s silence when Daniel had first mentioned financial misconduct.

She remembered the way he had said, I knew enough to suspect.

Victor saw the doubt in her eyes.

“That’s right,” he whispered. “You trusted him.”

Amara tightened her grip on the bag.

“No.”

Victor frowned.

“No?”

“I helped him. That’s not the same thing.”

The man’s expression hardened.

Behind him, another figure stepped forward.

Amara recognized him.

Harold Stein.

One of the executives who had been sitting at table seven on the first night.

The American executive who had laughed at her jokes.

For a moment, she could not speak.

“You?”

Stein smiled sadly.

“I liked you.”

“Then this should be awkward.”

He looked at Victor.

“Enough.”

Victor ignored him.

Amara’s mind raced.

The executives had been close to Kenji from the beginning.

They had sat beside him.