But she did.
The SUV interior smelled like expensive leather and silence. No driver spoke. No music played. Just the hum of control.
Twenty minutes later, they arrived at a glass building with no visible name.
Top floor.
Waiting inside: RICHARD WESTON.
Alive. Calm. Watching her like he already knew she would come.
RICHARD WESTON:
“You didn’t hesitate at the café. But you hesitated before getting in my car.”
Emma didn’t sit.
EMMA:
“I want answers. Who called me?”
A flicker crossed his face.
Not surprise.
Concern.
RICHARD:
“You shouldn’t have received that call.”
He stepped closer.
RICHARD (lower):
“And you definitely shouldn’t know about her.”
Emma’s pulse spiked.
EMMA:
“The woman said she’s your daughter.”
Silence dropped like a wall.
Then—
The lights in the building flickered.
Security alarms beeped once.
Richard’s expression changed for the first time—sharp, alarmed.
RICHARD:
“We’re not alone.”
A monitor on the wall suddenly turned on by itself.
A live feed.
Emma’s face froze.
On screen… was the café from earlier.
But zoomed in on her folder.
And inside it… a document she never put there.
Labeled:
“PATIENT ZERO — EMMA BLAKE”
Emma stepped back.
EMMA (whispering):
“What is that?”
Richard stared at it like a mistake from the past coming back to life.
Then the building doors LOCKED with a metallic slam.
A voice came over the intercom—distorted, familiar.
UNKNOWN VOICE:
“She was never just a witness.”
