Papers scattered across the coffee table. Dishes piled in the sink. A jacket crumpled on the floor.
Daniel never left jackets on the floor.
"He was losing it," Julian says quietly.
"Yeah." My voice sounds hollow. "He was."
We move fast. Julian heads for the office while I start in the bedroom.
I pull drawers open, rifling through his nightstand. My hands shake as I touch his things—pens, charging cables, a watch I remember him wearing. Everything feels contaminated, like his madness might transfer through contact.
Focus. Find something. Anything about Claudia.
The closet yields nothing. Same with the dresser. I check under the bed, behind furniture, anywhere someone might hide secrets.
Nothing.
The kitchen feels like another life entirely. I can see us there so clearly—standing too close, bumping hips, stealing tastes, pretending we weren’t already tired of the same conversations.
I take a breath, and the room holds it with me. This place gave me so much: excitement, desire, the illusion of forever. It also took things—certainty, innocence, the version of myself I thought I knew.
I don’t hate it. I can’t. But loving it hurts in a way that feels familiar now. Like touching something beautiful that no longer belongs to you.
I join Julian in the office. He's tearing through filing cabinets, flipping folders, scanning documents.
"Anything?"
"Bills. Rental agreements. Nothing useful." He slams a drawer shut. "Try the computer."
I slide into Daniel's desk chair. The leather still holds a faint trace of his cologne. My stomach turns.
The screen comes to life with a password prompt.
I try the obvious ones first. His birthday. The building address. Cumberland.
Incorrect password.
"Come on," I mutter, trying variations. Dates we were together. His mother's maiden name—I remember him mentioning it once.
Incorrect password.
I lean back in the chair, frustration clawing at my chest. My fingers hover uselessly over the keyboard, and I can feel the weight of every second ticking past us like a countdown to disaster.
What the hell are we even doing here? This felt like such a clear plan when we broke in, like we were finally taking control of something, but now it just feels reckless and stupid.
We're grasping at shadows, hoping to find something concrete in a place that only ever held lies and manipulation. Daniel was always ten steps ahead of everyone, always prepared, always in control. Why would he leave anything incriminating just sitting here, waiting to be found? He was too smart for that. Too careful. Too calculating.
I press my palms against my eyes, trying to push back the hopelessness threatening to swallow me whole.
Julian leans over my shoulder. "Let me try."
He types rapidly. Different combinations, different patterns.
Incorrect password. One attempt remaining before lockout.
"Shit." He pulls back. "We can't risk it."
My pulse hammers. We're running out of time. Someone could come. A neighbor. Building maintenance. Daniel's family.
