Page 25 of Dark Billionaire Stalker
"This isn't like you," Josiah continues. "You're methodical. Controlled. You don't let anything distract you from what matters. But ever since that gala, you've been different. Distracted. Reckless, even."
"Careful," I say quietly. "Choose your next words very carefully."
A long silence. Josiah holds my gaze, and I see the calculation happening behind his eyes. He's weighing risks, measuring how far he can push before I push back.
"I'm worried about you," he says finally. "That's all. I'm your brother, and I'm worried."
The tension in my shoulders eases slightly. Josiah is many things—pragmatic, calculating, occasionally ruthless—but he's not my enemy. He's trying to protect me, in his own limited way.
He just doesn't understand.
"Your worry is noted," I say. "And unnecessary. I have the situation under control."
"Do you?" He reaches into his jacket and pulls out a folder, setting it on my desk. "Because I've been doing some digging into your florist, and there are things that don't add up."
I look at the folder but don't touch it. "I've already had her investigated. I know everything there is to know about Poppy Rivers."
"Then you know about her mother's history."
Something in his tone makes me pause. "Linda Rivers. Single mother, worked multiple jobs, raised her daughter alone. What about her?"
"Her name wasn't always Linda Rivers." Josiah opens the folder, spreads papers across my desk. "She was born Linda Marsh. Changed her name legally when Poppy was two years old. Right after that, they started moving. Four different cities in six years before they finally settled."
I look at the documents. Birth certificates, name change filings, rental agreements from various addresses. A paper trail that Josiah has assembled with his usual thoroughness.
"People change their names for many reasons," I say.
"They do. But most people who change their names don't spend the next twenty-five years acting like they're being hunted." Josiah taps one of the papers. "I tracked down a former neighbor from one of their early addresses. She remembered Linda well—said she was paranoid, secretive, wouldn't let Poppy play with other children. Kept the curtains drawn all the time. Jumped at every knock on the door."
"An abusive relationship, perhaps. A bad divorce. It's not uncommon for women to flee that way."
"That's what I thought. Except there's no record of Linda Marsh ever being married. No record of a serious relationship at all, in fact." He pulls out another document. "Poppy's birth certificate lists the father as unknown. No name. No information. Nothing."
I study the birth certificate. The space for the father's name is blank—not redacted, not sealed by court order, simply empty. As if the man never existed at all.
"So she had a child out of wedlock and didn't want to name the father. Again, not unusual."
"No. But combined with the name change, the constant moving, the paranoia—it paints a picture." Josiah leans back in his chair. "Linda Rivers is hiding from something. Or someone. She has been for her daughter's entire life."
I turn this over in my mind. It's interesting information, but I don't see what Josiah expects me to do with it. "Whatever Linda Rivers is running from, it has nothing to do with me."
"Maybe not. But her daughter just witnessed you commit murder. And if Linda is the type to run from trouble, what do you think she'll tell Poppy to do?"
"Poppy isn't going to run."
"How can you be so sure?"
Because I've seen inside her apartment. Because I've watched her sleep. Because I've read her sketchbook and seen the darkness she tries to hide, the part of her that's drawn to shadows and serpents and things that whisper in the night.
Because she kept the dahlia.
"I just am," I say.
Josiah studies me for a long moment, his expression unreadable. Then he sighs and gathers the papers back into the folder.
"There's something else," he says. "Something I couldn't find."
"What do you mean?"
