Page 137 of Symphony for Lies

“Now this…” Tiana declared, pouring a glass of non-alcoholic champagne. “…is what I call a fresh start.”

Layla grinned, raising her own glass. “I couldn’t agree more.”

I smiled, not just because of their words, but because, for the first time in a long while, everything felt… right.

That night, my friends stayed over, filling the apartment with warmth and laughter.

Adjusting to my new routine took time, but I settled in quickly. It was a blessing.

It became a habit to read through the book my grandmother had left me—a collection of her own writings, carefully put together just for me.

She had also left me several dresses that she had sewn herself. I hung them in my closet and often ran my fingers over the fabric as if they still carried her presence.

On a sunny evening, Spencer stopped by with a housewarming gift for my balcony.

“For planting,” he said, handing me a small bouquet of delicate flowers tied together with twine.

We sat in the living room, talking about my day and how I was adjusting. It was easy, effortless until his expression turned serious.

“Amelia, I don’t want to bother you, but…”He reached into his bag, pulled out a sealed envelope, and placed it carefully on the table.

“I’m stuck.” His voice was laced with exhaustion. “It’s about the case. I’ve been trying to decipher the notes we found with Miss. River.” He ran a hand through his hair. “It looks like a farewell. It feels like a final message—no more murders, no new leads. But I can’t shake the feeling that something’s off.”

I stayed silent, letting his words sink in.

“There were notes at the site where Mr. Cole was kidnapped, too. I took pictures.” He tapped the envelope. “I don’t want to pressure you. But if you’re willing, take a look. Maybe you’ll see something I can’t.”

I leaned over slightly and placed my hand over his, squeezing it gently.“I’ll look at them. If I find anything, I’ll let you know.” I gave him a small, sincere smile.

He ruffled my hair. “Thanks.” Clearing his throat, he stood. “I should get going.”

I nodded and walked him to the door.

After closing the door behind him, I lingered, listening to the quiet.

My eyes drifted to the envelope.

I could’ve opened it right then, but I wasn’t ready.

Instead, I showered, changed into my nightgown, and took the flowers to the balcony.

As I planted them in the small garden bed, I hummed softly. The air was crisp as a warm breeze brushed against my skin.

I felt light, content, and at ease.

“What a view.” The deep, velvety voice sliced through the air like the slow drag of a blade.

Zane.

My breath hitched.

He stood on the balcony next to mine, leaning lazily against the railing. His brown eyes locked onto mine like a predator that had spotted prey.

The sunset cast molten gold over his skin, sharpening the angles of his face and making him look almost unreal. His hair was effortlessly tousled, and even in casual clothes, he carried himself with sinful confidence that made my stomach tighten.

His gaze traced the curve of my neck before drifting lower, lingering on the thin slip of fabric that had fallen from my shoulder.

Heat rushed to my face, and I quickly adjusted the strap of my nightgown.

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