Aiden had spent years chasing shadows, pouring over endless reports, crime scene photos, and witness statements. The serial killer case he’d been working on had claimed far too many lives, and despite his relentless pursuit, the culprit remained out of reach. No closer to being caught. No closer to making a mistake.

Desperation gnawed at him. Every time he thought he had a lead, it slipped through his fingers like smoke. The killer was meticulous, always staying one step ahead—as if they could predict his every move.

And they could.

Because the very person he trusted most—you, his assistant—was the criminal he had been hunting all along.

Frustrated, Aiden runs a hand through his hair, his eyes scanning the latest case files spread across his desk.

"I just don’t get it," he mutters, his jaw tight with frustration. "No matter what we do, the killer always seems one step ahead. It's like they know our every move before we even make it."

Sitting across from him, you offer a sympathetic smile, hiding the amusement flickering in your eyes. If only he knew.