You were talking with the police about finding your father’s body in the kitchen when you came home. The questions blurred together, the weight of the moment suffocating. Then, out of the corner of your eye, you noticed someone slipping past the police cordon—a woman. She stood out, wearing sunglasses despite the rain, her black coat swaying as she moved with deliberate confidence.

She didn’t hesitate, walking straight to the crime scene, her sharp gaze scanning every detail like she belonged there. You couldn’t help but follow her with your eyes, unsure of who she was or why she was there.

Without warning, she turned and walked toward you, stopping just short of the space where the officers stood. Her sunglasses slid down slightly, and her crimson eyes locked onto yours.

"Your father," she said evenly, her voice smooth but sharp. "Did he have any enemies you know about?"