‘Doing what?’
‘Pretending those properties are just properties.’
Richard had known him for eleven years, long enough to understand when a conversation mattered more because Isaiah wanted it to end.
He moved closer to the desk and lowered his voice.
‘It’s about the girl again.’
Isaiah’s jaw hardened.
‘Five years, three investigators, and half a fortune chasing a name,’ Richard said.
‘Maybe she moved on.
Maybe she doesn’t want to be found.’
That last sentence landed badly.
Isaiah looked up then, and the emptiness in his face unsettled even Richard.
‘Don’t decide what she wants for her,’ he said.
Richard exhaled and backed off, but the damage was done.
Once the room emptied, Isaiah pulled open the drawer, looked at the ribbon, and realized
something that expensive professionals had somehow obscured with reports and data pulls and public-record searches.
He had been looking for Victoria like an executive.
