There was almost nothing.
That was what frightened Reed.
Walsh could find people who didn't want to be found.
Bank accounts.
Sealed lawsuits.
Birth certificates.
Old lovers.
Forgotten debts.
Maisie Lel should have produced a life.
Instead, her childhood began at six years old.
A hospital intake.
No confirmed parents.
No reliable birth certificate.
No verified surname.
A frightened child with burns on her arm and almost no memory.
Then foster care.
Reed read the file twice.
"Where was she found?"
Walsh hesitated.
"South Boston."
"Where?"
"After a warehouse fire."
Reed looked up.
"What year?"
Walsh told him.
Reed's face changed.
Pierce, standing across the room, noticed.
"What's wrong?"
Reed closed the file.
"Nothing."
But it wasn't nothing.
Because Reed remembered that fire.
He had been twenty-three.
His father, Malcolm Ashford, still ran the organization then.
A warehouse belonging to an Ashford rival had burned after midnight.
Officially, electrical failure.
Unofficially, nobody ever asked.
Reed had been told the building was empty.
Now he wasn't sure.
That evening Maisie refused to speak to him.
"You investigated me."
Reed stood in the kitchen doorway.
"Yes."
"That's insane."
"It was necessary."
"For whom?"
"For me."
"Exactly."
She slammed a refrigerator door.
"You don't get to tear apart my life because I hummed a song."
"I recognized it."
Maisie stopped.
"What?"
Reed regretted the words immediately.
She stepped closer.
"You recognized it."
Silence.
"From where?"
"I don't know yet."
"That's convenient."
"Maisie."
"No. You wanted answers? Now I want one."
Reed looked toward the kitchen staff.
"Leave."
Everyone disappeared.
Maisie folded her arms.
Reed finally said, "My mother used to sing it."
Maisie's anger vanished.
"What?"
"When I was young."
"Maybe it's common."
"It isn't."
"How do you know?"
"Because she wrote it."
The kitchen suddenly seemed too quiet.
Maisie shook her head.
"That's impossible."
"Maybe."
"Your mother died?"
"When I was seventeen."
"And I'm twenty-seven. So what exactly are you suggesting?"
"I don't know."
She studied him.
For once, Reed Ashford looked uncertain.
Maisie pulled up her sleeve.
The scar seemed different now.
Not just an injury.
A question.
"Was your mother connected to that warehouse?"
Reed's eyes narrowed.
"How do you know about the warehouse?"
"Your security chief isn't nearly as subtle as he thinks."
Despite everything, Reed almost smiled.
Almost.
Then the lights went out.
Total darkness.
Reed moved instantly.
"Down."
Maisie barely had time to react before Reed pulled her behind the steel island.
A crash came from the rear entrance.
Walsh shouted outside.
Emergency lights flashed red.
Reed covered Maisie's body with his own.
"What is happening?"
"Stay down."
"Reed—"
"Please."
That word stopped her.
Not an order.
Please.
Seconds later, Walsh appeared.
"Clear."
Reed rose.
"What happened?"
"Power sabotage. Rear lock was forced."
Pierce entered behind him.
His gaze went directly to Maisie.
"This started after she arrived."
Reed turned slowly.
Pierce continued.
"We know nothing about her."
Maisie's face hardened.
"Say what you're actually accusing me of."
Pierce did.
"You could be the reason somebody got inside."
Reed stepped between them.
"Enough."
"Boss—"
"I said enough."
Maisie grabbed her coat.
Reed caught her wrist, then immediately released it.
"Don't leave alone."
"I've been alone my entire life."
"Not tonight."
She looked into his eyes.
That sentence landed harder than Reed intended.
Not tonight.
Walsh escorted her home.
Reed stayed behind.
Security found no intruder.
Only a cut cable and a deliberately damaged lock.
Someone wanted them frightened.
Or distracted.
At 2:00 a.m., Reed returned to his penthouse.
Pierce was waiting.
"You're losing perspective."
Reed removed his jacket.
"Careful."
"You've known her for days."
"And?"
"And you're protecting her like family."
Reed's eyes became cold.
"Maybe that's because everyone else keeps treating her like an enemy."
Pierce left.
But before dawn, Reed received a message from Walsh.
They had recovered security footage from the alley behind Maisie's apartment.
A man had been watching her.
For three nights.
Reed watched the recording.
The man's face appeared for less than two seconds.
It was enough.
Reed knew him.
Victor Dane.
A former associate of Reed's father.
A man who had disappeared after the warehouse fire twenty-one years earlier.
Reed immediately called Walsh.
"Get Maisie out of that apartment."
"Already moving."
"Where is she?"
Silence.
"Walsh?"
"Boss..."
Reed stood.
"What?"
"She's gone."
---