The older woman met her gaze.
No smile now.
No triumph.
Just exhaustion.
Maya felt nothing.
No satisfaction.
No anger.
She wanted only her son.
Aaron continued.
“There’s something else.”
“What?”
“The package in Madrid.”
Maya remembered her helmet.
“The evidence.”
Aaron shook his head.
“The helmet arrived this morning. Our team opened it.”
“And?”
“Your storage module was empty.”
Maya stared.
“What?”
Ethan approached.
“That’s impossible.”
Aaron handed Maya a small envelope.
“This was inside.”
Maya recognized the handwriting immediately.
Her mother’s.
She opened it.
One sentence.
Maya read aloud:
“Some memories are safer when mothers keep them.”
Maya stared at the paper.
Then she started laughing.
Ethan frowned.
“What?”
“My mother.”
“What about her?”
“She found the drive.”
Aaron blinked.
“When?”
“Years ago, probably.”
“Where is it?”
Maya laughed harder.
“I know exactly where.”
Three days later, Maya stood inside her mother’s kitchen in Virginia.
