Atlanta, Georgia – 8:42 AM


The morning light streamed through the floor-to-ceiling windows of Talia Monroe’s custom-designed home, bathing the modern space in gold. She stood barefoot on the polished concrete floors, cradling a coffee mug that read “Build Boldly”—a motto she lived by both personally and professionally.


Her eyes wandered over the clean lines of her living room, the steel beams exposed like bones, glass walls that gave the illusion of freedom, and an open staircase that spiraled like a helix. This house was her masterpiece. Every angle, every material, every inch screamed her name.


And yet…

Something felt off.


“Talia, you’re zoning again,” came a voice from the hallway.


She turned to see her fiancé, Marcus Taylor, adjusting his cufflinks. He was tall, clean-cut, a successful real estate developer with deep brown eyes and a disarming smile. The man every woman at her firm swore was too good to be true.


Maybe he was.


“Sorry,” Talia said. “Just thinking about the Thompson project. We break ground Monday.”


Marcus walked over and kissed her forehead. “You need to slow down. You’ve been working non-stop. Take a breath. You’ve already made it.”


She smiled, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Making it isn’t the same as keeping it.”


Just then, her phone buzzed on the kitchen island.


Unknown Number.

One new message.


She hesitated before opening it.


Do you really know who Marcus is? Look deeper. Start with the night he said he was in Miami. He wasn’t. And someone died.


Talia’s heart dropped.


The coffee mug slipped from her hand and shattered across the concrete.


Marcus rushed over. “You okay?”


“Yeah,” she lied, staring down at the broken pieces.

But in her chest, something had cracked wide open.