All Chapters of WHAT HE ERASED: Chapter 1 - Chapter 10

61 Chapters

Everything Left Behind

The box wasn't heavy.That was the part I kept coming back to. Not the humiliation of it. Not Viktor's message, delivered by his assistant at seven in the morning like I was a contractor whose contract had quietly lapsed.Not the fact that I'd woken up in this house for ten years and would not sleep in it again after today. What I couldn't move past was the weight of the box. Or the lack of it. Ten years. One cardboard box. The kind you pick up at a grocery store because nobody had thought to send up something sturdier.A few sketchbooks. A USB drive with five years of archived work. The small framed photograph of my mother I'd kept on the studio windowsill because no one had ever told me I couldn't.And the gold pen the one Viktor had pressed into my hand after my first completed collection, a Thursday evening, the workroom still smelling of fabric dye and warm approval. I'd kept it in my desk drawer for years. Couldn't throw it away.Couldn't use it on anything that mattered either

Somewhere That Isn't There

Camille's apartment was on the third floor and it smelled like dog. She burned candles to fix that. It didn't fix it.Door opened before I knocked. She'd been at the window."You look terrible," Camille said."Thank you."She took the box inside and the dog launched himself at me and I just stood there and let it happen. He was warm. He didn't know anything. That was enough."You hungry?""No."She went to the stove anyway.Eggs, toast, coffee I couldn't drink because of the seven weeks I was not telling her about. I pushed the mug aside and said it was too hot and she let me lie because that's what Camille did. She always let me have my lies until she didn't.I sat with my hands in my lap and looked at the room while she cooked. It wasn't the first time I'd been here but today the smallness of it settled differently. The low ceiling. The furniture arranged as close as it was because there was no other way. None of it was bad.It was just real in a way I hadn't been around in a while,

What She Knew

Natalia Volkov picked a bar I'd never heard of.She'd picked somewhere I'd never been. No windows to the street, lighting so dim you had to squint. Deliberate. She was already in the back corner when I got there, coat on, untouched water in front of her.She looked different. Tired in a way that had settled into her face and stopped being temporary. The last time I'd seen her she'd been composed in the way she always was nothing given away, nothing invited.Tonight the composure was still there but it was working harder than usual. I noticed that before I even sat down."Sit," she said.I did.Her eyes dropped to my stomach for half a second. My whole body locked up. I told myself I was reading into it.I wasn't showing. Seven weeks. There was nothing to see."You look well," she said."You called me down here to tell me that?"The corner of her mouth moved. Not quite a smile. "You were always direct. I used to tell Viktor that was your best quality." She paused. "He said it was your

Four Words

I stood on the pavement and read it three more times.Give it back, Mara.My name at the end of it was the part that sat wrong. Not a general warning. My name specifically. Which meant whoever sent it knew exactly who walked out of that bar.My thumb hovered over the number. Unknown. No area code I recognized. I typed who is this and deleted it. Typed it again and sent it before I could think too hard.Three dots appeared.Then nothing. Dots gone. No reply.I walked back with the envelope jammed under my arm. Checked behind me twice. Felt stupid. Did it anyway.Someone knew I had it.Which meant someone had been watching Natalia.Or watching me.Camille's light was off. The dog lifted his head when I came in, dropped it again.I went to the guest room, locked the door, sat down on the floor and opened it.It wasn't neat. Aleksei wasn't the type for neat, apparently or maybe he'd been in a hurry when he put it together. Pages in different orders, some handwritten, some printed, one ph

Dead Men

Rafael Conti died in a boating accident off the Amalfi Coast seven years ago.Survived by his sister, Elara. Private funeral. No body recovered.I read the article four times. Then I found the obituary in an Italian paper and ran it through a translator and read that too. Same story. Same details. Same photograph younger, but the same jaw, the same set of the shoulders as the man in Aleksei's photo.No body recovered.I put the laptop on the bed and pressed both hands over my face.Someone was walking around using a dead man's name. Running the legal arm of one of Europe's largest fashion conglomerates. Structuring the merger that had just tied Viktor's company to the Conti Group for the next twenty years.And Elara knew.R.C. not who he says he is. Elara knows.Viktor was either part of it or he was walking straight into it. Neither option was good.I didn't sleep. Sky outside went grey and I was still on the floor.I found a charger in the kitchen. Stood in the dark. Forty-eight h

What He Came For

I got it from under the mattress. Stood up. Opened the door.Three weeks. He looked exactly the same. That shouldn't have been allowed.Dark coat, no tie, filling up Camille's small hallway like he'd been standing there for years. His eyes moved over me the way they always did fast, quiet, filing things away. I'd seen him do it to other people. Took me longer than it should have to realize he did it to me too."You look tired."I didn't answer that."Can I come in.""No."He didn't try to come in. Hands in his pockets, weight back, just waiting. Viktor could outwait anyone. I'd seen him do it in rooms full of people who thought they had the upper hand."How did you get in," I said."Camille let me in."I looked at the door. Then past him down the hall. Then back."What do you want.""How did you know I was here.""You always came here."True. Also not the point. He knew that and said it anyway, which was its own kind of answer.I waited.His eyes went past me briefly. The pages on the

His Father's Son

I took the photograph. Turned it over. Blank on the back. Different from the one in the envelope, which meant Aleksei had more than one. Which meant he'd been watching this man for a while."Where did you find this," I said."Study. Behind a panel in the desk." Viktor leaned against the doorframe. "My father built the desk himself. Hollow compartment in the back left corner. I found it when I was twelve. He never knew." A pause. "There were six photographs in there. All the same man. Different locations.""Six.""Milan. Geneva. Once here, outside our building." His jaw tightened. "Someone my father was tracking. For years, from what I can tell."I handed the photograph back. Kept my face still."You don't know who he is," I said."No. Do you.""Why would I."He watched me for a second not the impatient kind of watching, the kind where he was actually thinking. Viktor had always done that. Asked questions without asking them."Because you knew my father," he said. "Better than you thi

Thirty-Six Hours

I didn't sleep after that.Sat on the bed with both envelopes open and the photographs spread out and my laptop running searches until my eyes burned. Luca Ferretti. Geneva based, joined the Conti Group four years ago, quiet online footprint, no personal social media, one conference photograph from three years back where he was half behind someone else like he knew the camera was there.Rafael Conti's obituary again. The photograph in it. Young, early thirties, dark hair.Luca Ferretti's staff photo. Mid thirties now, lighter hair, heavier jaw.Seven years between them. People change in seven years.I put the two images side by side on the screen and sat with it.Same ear. I kept coming back to the ear. People don't think about ears when they change their appearance. Different hair, different weight, different glasses, but ears don't lie.Rafael Conti didn't die off the Amalfi Coast.He changed his name and walked back into his own family's company four years later and nobody question

Last Chance

I stared at the photograph. The lawyer was watching me. "Is everything alright." I turned the phone face down. "Yes. Sorry. Keep going." She kept going. I heard about thirty percent of it. The rest of my brain was stuck on Viktor outside that bar. The timing of it. Him showing up at Camille's forty minutes later with his father's photographs and his careful voice and I'm running out of people I can trust.Had he followed Natalia. Had someone followed him. Had he seen me come out. Did he know what she'd given me. "would need to happen today if you want to move on the claim," the lawyer was saying.I pulled myself back. "What would." "Filing the notification of intent. It doesn't lock anything in but it establishes the date. Creates a paper trail that's harder to erase." She folded her hands on the desk."If someone wants you gone from this quietly, a filed notification makes that a lot more complicated for them." "And it flags to Viktor's legal team." "Not automatically. Not immediatel

Her Door

I was already running. Not the address Viktor sent. Camille's building. Twelve blocks and I covered them without thinking, phone at my ear, calling her back, getting nothing. Voicemail. Called again. Voicemail. Texted. Nothing.Stairs. I didn't even look at the elevator.Her door was closed. I put my ear close to it. Nothing I could make out."Camille."Nothing."Camille. It's me. Open up."The dog barked. Then nothing. I stood there with my hand on the door.I tried the handle. Locked. No key. I'd never needed one before. That fact was only useful to me now as something to feel stupid about."Camille—"The door opened.Flour on her arm, dish towel, dog wedged behind her knees. She stared."You look terrible," she said.I grabbed the doorframe. Tried to slow my breathing down. My heart was somewhere it shouldn't be."You sent a voice note.""I know, I tried to call you after, twice, and you just—""You said there was someone at your door."She moved back to let me in. "It was Mrs. Ade

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