FionaFive-fifteen. Daniel's Peloton whirs to life in his home gym, precise as a German train. I count his footsteps across Italian marble, the quiet click of the gym door. For a man so careful with his schedule, he never noticed I memorized every minute.His office still smells of last night's scotch. No cleaning staff today—I made sure of that. The morning light hasn't reached his desk yet, but I know its contents by heart. Mont Blanc pen holder, left side. Patek Philippe box for his evening watch, centered. Everything measured in millimeters of perfection.The safe clicks open with his mother's birthday—he never was creative with passwords. Inside: folders organized by quarter, each tab perfectly aligned. Too perfect. My fingers find a slight gap behind them, where the metal's warmer. A false back.I check my watch. Five-twenty-three. He'll be on his second sprint interval.The hidden compartment yields a single folder, unmarked. My phone's camera shutter sounds too loud in the dar
Huling Na-update : 2025-02-11 Magbasa pa