Venessa stared at the screen, thumb hovering as the message settled in.

“Private security assigned. Swiss clearance. Full rotation.”

She let out a soft breath—almost a laugh.

“Oh Roman,” she said quietly. “You really are predictable.”

She walked slowly toward the balcony, the warm Spanish air brushing her skin. Venessa rested her elbows on the rail and reread the message again.

“So that’s your move,” she continued, speaking to no one. “Protect the child. Close the circle and lock me out.”

Her lips curved upward.

“That’s not panic,” she admitted. “That’s strategy.”

She reached for her phone again, scrolling through information she already knew by heart.

Her smile deepened.

“You...