Page 15 of Money Reigns

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Then I open a new search.

Olivia Baker.

There’s a hit on her work socials. Sparse. Community college. A stack of clerical certs, typing speed, office software, the usual bullshit. The kind of paper resume that says steady, not brilliant.

No real social media presence, just a locked photo account and another account abandoned four years ago.

Clever girl.

Private.

Not Flashy.

I dig deeper.

Age, she’s Twenty-seven.

A decade younger.

I shrug. I’ll make the exception.

I slide back to the tenant data I technically shouldn’t be looking at.

She’s been in 5B for two years. No roommate. No car on file. Emergency contact listed as “Mom.” No pets.

One late rent notice on record—six months ago. Paid in full the same week.

Then another. She missed this months payment.

Hmm, explains the need to return the skirt.

Quiet tenant. Quiet life.

No one stays quiet in this city without reason.

What’s she hiding?

What’s she running from?

Or maybe it’s the other way around.

Maybe she’s running to something.

Her license is on file. I click.

Five-five.

A full foot shorter.

Would’ve guessed smaller.

Probably because of the way she carries herself, head ducked, shoulders tucked, like she’s trying to vanish.

Like she doesn’t know how fuckingvisibleshe is.

Compact. Easy to corner.

But not delicate. Not breakable.

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