Page 164 of Black Reign

Ancestry platforms.

Police databases.

Immigration systems.

Research studies.

A dozen seemingly harmless points of contact eventually become a web.

Vesper has avoided it.

Deliberately.

The woman who left me DNA knew exactly what I would do with it.

She didn’t make a mistake.

She sent me another dead end.

My admiration becomes deeply inconvenient.

A knock sounds against the library door.

I don't answer.

It opens anyway.

My father.

No.

Not physically.

His face appears on one of the isolated Blackwell screens.

Incoming secure call.

Even worse.

I accept.

My father fills the display from somewhere in Europe.

Perfect suit despite the hour.

Perfect posture.

Expression suggesting whatever is about to happen will become my problem whether I consent or not.

“Wedding finished?”

“Several hours ago.”

“You’re still there.”

“I ran security.”

“I know.”