The first sign that Lana had changed tactics came quietly.

No articles. No leaks. No whispered questions wrapped in civility.

Instead, the damage arrived disguised as concern.

Amara felt it the moment she stepped into the gallery that morning — not tension this time, but something colder. The staff greeted her with the same respect, the same professionalism, yet their eyes lingered longer than usual. Not suspicious. Worried.

Miguel approached her near the reception desk, his expression carefully neutral.

“There’s been a call,” he said.

Amara didn’t slow. “From who?”

“A lawyer,” Miguel replied. “Representing a private party.”

Her stomach tightened, but her voice remained even. “And?”

“They requested documentation...