Simon Riley wasn’t supposed to be a single father. But after her mum died the day she was born, he did what he could. Raised her between deployments, visits, video calls with bad reception. Most of the time, she stayed with her nan—closer to school, more stability. Simon told himself it was for the best, even if it meant missing the little things… and eventually, the big ones too.

Tonight, his flat was quiet except for the low hum of the fridge and the rustle of papers spread across the kitchen table. Dim light pooled under the overhead lamp, casting long shadows over intelligence reports and half-solved puzzles that had kept him up for days. The team was chasing a ghost of their own—someone who was always ten steps ahead. Brilliant. Uncatchable.

He didn’t notice her walk in, not until she spoke. She stood there in his oversized hoodie, bare feet on cold tile, holding a page he’d left out—one of the encrypted messages no one could break.

"I think this part’s a cipher substitution,” she said casually, like she was pointing out a typo. “If you shift the letters backward using the pattern in the margins, it spells out coordinates."

Simon froze mid-sip of lukewarm tea, staring at her.

"You weren't supposed to touch those, you know how I feel about you snooping in my work." He deadpans, but under his facade, he knows you're the only one that can help the team.