He pointed to a small, nearly invisible smudge on the edge of the desk. "James found her here, slumped over. But there's no glass, no water, no sign of a struggle. Just... a sudden stop."
"Amara, heart attacks leave traces. The toxicology report from the hospital was 'inconclusive' due to the speed of her passing. That's not a diagnosis, that's a cover-up."
Amara felt a cold chill that had nothing to do with the air conditioning. "You think... You think someone did this?"
Julian's grip on her shoulders tightened, his voice dropping to a dangerous, protective growl. "I think the timing of this, right after our wedding, while we were out of the country, is too perfect. Someone wanted the Pedro estate vulnerable. And they wanted you distracted by grief."
The morning of the burial arrived with a leaden sky that threatened rain. The garden was a sea of black umbrellas and traditional Kente cloth. The rhythmic drumming was a heartbeat that felt too fast for the somber occasion.
