Chapter 72: Strings and Shadows Vanessa POV

I pushed open the diner door, the bell jingling above me as I stepped inside, brushing a speck of dust off my coat sleeve. The smell of frying bacon hit me, mingling with the hum of chatter and clinking dishes. I adjusted my scarf, scanning the booths until I spotted Sophia in the corner, her head bent over a notebook, a coffee mug steaming in front of her. I smirked, tugging my bag higher on my shoulder, my boots clicking as I walked over.

"Hey, Soph," I said, sliding into the seat across from her, dropping my bag onto the vinyl with a soft thud. "Good to see you."

She looked up, flipping her notebook shut with a quick snap, her pen clattering onto the table. "Hey, Vanessa," she replied, her voice cautious, brushing her hair back with her fingers. "You’re early."

"Couldn’t wait," I said, flashing a grin, grabbing a menu from the holder, flipping it open with a rustle. "What’s good here?"

She shrugged, sipping her coffee, the mug clinking as she set it down. "Pancakes are decent—coffee’s better."

"Done," I said, tossing the menu aside, waving at the waitress, my nails tapping the table. "Pancakes and coffee—black," I called, leaning back, crossing my legs under the table.

Sophia adjusted her sweater, tugging at the hem, her eyes flicking to my face. "So, what’s this about? You don’t just do coffee."

I laughed, picking up a sugar packet, twirling it between my fingers. "Can’t a girl want a break? It’s been hell lately."

"Tell me about it," she muttered, grabbing her pen, doodling a small circle on the corner of her notebook. "Victor’s winning every round."

I leaned in, resting my elbows on the table, my scarf brushing the edge. "Yeah, he’s got a knack for that," I said, my tone light, grabbing my phone from my bag, setting it face down beside me. "What’s he up to now?"

She flipped her notebook open again, her fingers tracing a line of scribbled notes, her voice low. "Same old—controlling everything. Argus is his now."

The waitress arrived, setting a plate of pancakes and a mug in front of me with a clatter. "Here you go," she said, topping off Sophia’s coffee before walking off, her apron swishing.

"Thanks," I called, grabbing my spoon, stirring the coffee, the metal tapping the cup rhythmically. "Argus, huh? Ethan’s out then?"

"Yeah," Sophia replied, sipping her coffee, her mug clinking as she set it down. "Fired—Victor took it all."

I nodded, cutting into my pancakes with a fork, spearing a bite, chewing slowly. "Rough break," I said, swallowing, leaning in closer, my voice dropping. "What’s Victor hiding, Soph? You must know something."

She froze, her pen pausing mid-doodle, her eyes narrowing. "Why do you care?"

"Just curious," I said, shrugging, tapping my spoon on the cup again, keeping my tone casual. "He’s my dad—I hear things, but you’re closer to the mess."

She flipped a page, her fingers brushing the paper, her voice guarded. "He’s slippery—always has been. I’ve got suspicions, but nothing solid."

"Like what?" I pressed, stirring my coffee again, the spoon clinking as I leaned in, my elbow nudging my phone slightly closer to her.

Sophia sighed, flipping back to an earlier page, tapping a vague note—Victor meetings. "Odd moves—secret calls, late nights. But no proof."

I nodded, taking another bite of pancake, my fork scraping the plate. "Secret calls? Sounds like him—always playing angles."

"Yeah," she said, closing the notebook with a snap, grabbing her mug, cradling it in her hands. "But I can’t pin him down—not yet."

I smirked, setting my fork down, wiping my mouth with a napkin, tossing it onto the plate with a flick. "You will—he’s not invincible," I said, my tone encouraging, my hand brushing my phone, thumbing the record button under the table, the faint hum of it starting up.

"Maybe," she replied, sipping her coffee, her eyes flicking to the window, a pigeon pecking at the sill outside. "Just need a break—something to crack him."

I grabbed my mug, sipping the black coffee, the bitterness sharp on my tongue. "You’ll get it—keep digging," I said, setting it down with a clink, my fingers tapping the table, steering her gently. "What about Colson? Any whispers there?"

She shook her head, picking at a loose thread on her sleeve. "Nothing new—cops gave up. Victor’s clean on that, far as they know."

"Far as they know," I echoed, leaning back, crossing my arms, my scarf slipping slightly. "He’s good at covering tracks."

"Too good," she muttered, grabbing her pen again, twirling it between her fingers. "Makes me wonder what else he’s buried."

I nodded, stirring my coffee again, the spoon tapping a steady beat, my mind racing—vague suspicions, no meat yet, but enough to string Victor along. "You’ve got instincts, Soph—trust them," I said, my voice smooth, nudging her further.

She smiled faintly, setting the pen down, flipping her notebook open once more, scribbling a quick note. "Trying to," she said, her tone softening. "Thanks for this—it’s nice to vent."

"Anytime," I replied, grabbing my phone, slipping it into my bag with a casual swipe, the recording still running, my pulse ticking up. "We’re in this mess together, right?"

"Right," she said, sipping her coffee, setting it down with a soft thud, her eyes warming slightly.

We chatted a bit longer, the diner buzzing around us—plates clattering, a kid laughing in the next booth. I finished my pancakes, pushing the plate aside, wiping my hands on a fresh napkin, tossing it onto the table. "Gotta run soon," I said, adjusting my scarf, pulling my bag onto my lap.

"Yeah, me too," she replied, grabbing her notebook, tucking it under her arm as she stood, zipping her jacket with a quick tug.

I stood too, tossing a few bills onto the table, my fingers brushing the edge of my phone in my bag. "See you around," I said, heading for the door, pushing it open, the bell jingling as I stepped outside, the cold air hitting my face.

My phone buzzed as I walked to my car, pulling it out with a quick swipe—Julian’s name flashing. I opened the text, my boots pausing on the pavement: Victor’s watching you—cameras everywhere. My breath caught, my eyes darting up, scanning the street, suspicion curling tight in my gut.