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Thoughts crammedmy brain as I entered my home, wanting to see Vanessa. So much was happening around us, and I needed a moment to sit still and look at everything carefully.

Why were CIA agents killing people? Who had ordered this? It seemed like Paul had lost his mind and memory, but he was still alive.

I paid for a private hospital room and hired two security guards to watch over Paul, ensuring he was protected. No one was allowed in except an approved doctor or nurse. Detective Farmer didn’t object to my actions, which meant he understood my needs and the direction this investigation was taking.

I needed Paul to remember who had ordered him to kill Sam Thornton, the CIA agent who had killed Emmanuel. Whoever was behind this was killing off potential witnesses to their crimes. Before Detective Farmer left, he mentioned that the two thugs, Martin Brown and Pedro Lopez, also died in a car accident the day before Emmanuel. He showed me pictures of the other two deceased people who were in the same car—Enzo and Becca.

At a glance, things seemed chaotic. The mastermind behind this shitshow was trying to create confusion, trying to distract me from seeing the truth. This meant I was getting close. If I zoomed out and ignored all the flying debris, two powerful entities rose to the surface: The Trogyn and the CIA.

How were they connected? What did they want to hide?

I texted my friends, asking them for a conference call tonight. Arriving home, I walked around my house. I needed to see Vanessa. I inhaled the delicious aroma, knowing she’d ordered dinner from Saigon Bistro. That made me feel better. Before her, my place had been quiet, empty, and cold. But now, warmth stirred in my home and my heart.

I’d never felt so anchored. Even though I had all the wealth in the world, I’d never felt fulfilled. Vengeance had propelled me forward, disregarding everything else. My house had been a place to sleep. Now it was a home.

My home with Vanessa.

I heard a noise in the studio and headed there. I stood at the open door, watching her adjust the stool. She stepped on it and stretched out her hand to paint a lovely peach color on the massive canvas, which was bigger than she was. The beautiful colors reminded me ofHope in Bloom, a painting I’d bought in Boston.

Though she wore a baggy T-shirt, seeing her painting in my house was as hot as hell.

“Who’s the painting for?” I asked as I stepped into the studio.

She whirled around and beamed at me. Placing her brush and paint palette on the side table, she wiped her hands on her shirt and rushed over to me.

“Hi! I’d give you a hug, but I’ve got paint all over me.”

I wrapped my arms around her, inhaling her scent. “I don’t care. I’ve got plenty of shirts and jeans.”

“Are you hungry? I got us dinner.”

“I saw. Thank you. I want to see what you’re painting first.” I took her hand and walked over to the canvas. “The colors remind me of a painting I have.”

“Why didn’t you tell me you boughtHope in Bloom?”

I smirked. “I didn’t want you to think I was a creepy art collector who was stalking you.”

“You were at the Brigham and Women’s art auction? I didn’t see you.”

“I saw you.”

At that time, we had already signed an agreement for her gallery.

“Why didn’t you say hello?”

“I was about to, but you left early. I hadn’t intended to be at the auction, but a clue sent me there.”

“A clue?” She furrowed her brow. “What do you mean?”

“Do you remember Joseph Gallo? He’s my curator, a longtime employee of mine. He went missing two months ago. I found a handwritten note on his desk about the auction, so I went to check it out.” I left out the part where I encountered two men planning to extort her. Even though they were now dead, she didn’t need the extra anxiety.

“And you still haven’t found anything on him?”

I shook my head.

“I remember Joseph. He was friendly and thorough.”

“Agnes and Joseph were with me when the museum first opened. I have to find him, dead or alive. He and Agnes are family to me.”