❖ A Familiar Enemy
The next morning, Ethan sat beside Ava’s bed. She wasn’t awake yet, but her breathing was steady.
Malik waited at the door, unsure if he belonged in the room.
“You said the plate was 8XJ–921, right?” Ethan asked.
Malik nodded.
Ethan clenched his jaw.
“That’s my business partner’s vehicle. Michael Grant.”
Shock flickered across Malik’s face.
“The same Michael who…?”
“Yes,” Ethan muttered.
“The same man who insisted Ava’s death looked like an overdose…
The same man who urged me to bury her quickly and ‘move on.’”
Pieces fell together—cold, sharp, devastating.
Michael had been pushing for a massive deal that Ethan was reluctant to sign.
Killing Ava—or making Ethan believe she was dead—would send him into enough grief-stricken chaos to sign anything.
It was monstrous. Calculated.
Ethan stood abruptly.
“I’m going to the police.”
But Malik stepped forward.
“Sir… with all due respect, you need evidence. Real evidence.
People like him don’t fall unless you have everything.”
Ethan looked at the boy—this homeless kid who risked everything just to tell the truth.
“You’re right,” he whispered.
“Will you help me?”
Malik swallowed hard and nodded.
“Yes. For Ava.”