“Most people don’t say that.”
“Most people don’t get proof.”
Voss pulled a chair closer.
“We also found something else.”
The air in the room changed.
I felt it before she spoke. Some old instinct, sharpened by years beside Grant, recognized danger in silence.
“What?”
“A folder buried in one of his drives. Encrypted. Our techs opened part of it.”
I waited.
“There are files on other women.”
For a moment, the machines beside my bed seemed to grow louder.
“Other women?”
“Before you,” Voss said. “Possibly during. We’re still identifying them.”
My stomach turned.
Grant had always told me I was special.
His favorite.
His masterpiece.
I had believed that meant I was uniquely cursed.
But I had not been special.
I had been next.
“How many?” I asked.
“We don’t know yet.”
The room blurred at the edges. I gripped the blanket until my fingers ached.
