Page 17 of Vamp CEO Bit You Where?

She's stirring her coffee. "Forever, basically. They came as a package. Why?"

"Found an old photo. Family-resemblance thing. Made me curious."

The spoon stops. She sets it down carefully and steps closer than the conversation needs.

"Jazz." Her voice drops. "Don't."

"Don't what?"

"There was a guy—comms team, before you. Sharp. He got curious about the archive contracts, all the old media licenses we buy that nobody else wants." She glances around, making sure no one is listening. "He started asking around. Then he transferred. I went looking for him once, I needed something he did and—nothing. No profile, no forwarding. Like he got scrubbed from existing."

"Penny—"

"I like this job. I like you." She picks the spoon back up, performing normal. "Some things here aren't ours to look at. Leave whatever you've found, girl."

I consider what she says but I can't leave it. Instead, I just get more careful. That afternoon I bring Sebastian a folder he didn't ask for and stand in his office while he reads.

"Does your family keep portraits?" I ask. "Old ones."

He doesn't look up. "Some."

"You favor them. There's one at the museum downtown."

The pen stops moving. Just that.

"Do you have brothers?" I go on. "You and Gideon hold yourselves the same. Elias too. I wondered if you were related before the company."

He places the pen on the desk and raises his eyes, and what's in them isn't irritation. Not guilt. Not anger. I can't decide if it's fear or annoyance.

"Where did you see the portrait, Jasmine?"

"I told you. The museum."

"Who were you with?"

"No one."

"Did you photograph it?"

The questions come fast now, even, each one set down like a stone. He isn't asking what I found. He's asking who else knows.

"It's just a painting," I say.

"Then it shouldn't matter where it hangs." He stands, and for one second, before he smooths it away, I see it. Fear—and not fear of being caught in a lie. Fearforme. The realization lands somewhere warm and dangerous, and I want, God help me, to cross the room and promise I'll stop, but I don't.

"You should be careful which galleries you wander into on weekends," he says quietly. "Some collections stay private because exposure has consequences."

"Noted."

"Jasmine." My name, softer now. He hesitates, and then continues, "Never mind."

I'm unsure if he was about to reveal something profound, but I just leave and head to my desk to open the archive contracts Penny named. Media licenses. Old photographic estates. Newspaper morgues bought wholesale and quietly closed to the public.

Crowe Technologies isn't only burying corporate leaks. It's buying history. Taking faces off walls. Erasing people from existing.

Nothing adds up. Something is completely misconstrued, but whatever this is. The missing pieces are starting to itch under my skin. Sebastian is keeping something from me, and I'm going to find out.

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