Ethan's report arrived two days later. It consisted of public business records, a photograph of Daniel outside the small workshop, a description of the restoration services he offered, and several testimonials from customers who had left their comments on a local community page. There was no criminal record in the accessible public records, no evidence of a lavish hidden life, no public dispute that could explain why he might target Victoria, and very little online presence beyond the shop. Ethan had included a sentence noting that personal financial circumstances could not be established from the sources they were entitled to consult.
Victoria appreciated the restraint and then found herself annoyed that the report offered so little. It listed successful restorations, reliable estimates, and neighbors who called Daniel when the power went out or a porch railing loosened. His work was highly regarded, though apparently not priced to make him wealthy. One reviewer had written that he had repaired a chest of drawers and refused to replace the top because the old surface carried marks from the family's children growing up.
"He said those scratches weren't damage," the reviewer wrote. "They were proof the chest had been loved."
Victoria reread that line several times. Sterling Living had spent a fortune convincing customers to buy furniture without blemishes. Its marketing photographs showed rooms so immaculate they looked as though no one had ever been allowed to sit in them. She was suddenly curious about whether Daniel would find those photographs beautiful or simply empty.
She put the report in a drawer and tried to forget it. She went to meetings, approved an advertising campaign, reviewed the acquisition timetable, and spent an evening at a restaurant where every course arrived on a plate larger than the food. Her dinner companion, a venture partner, spent most of the meal explaining how much their mutual investment would be worth in eighteen months. She smiled, asked informed questions, and returned home feeling more alone than she had before she left.
The following evening, Victoria took the car keys herself. She did not tell Ethan where she was going. That decision, minor in any ordinary life, felt strangely rebellious to a woman whose movements were normally arranged by assistants and security staff. She wore a dark sweater and trousers instead of the tailored suit she had kept on for twelve hours, though she did not think to change the shoes that belonged in a boardroom rather than a workshop.
As the glass towers gave way to small shops, older apartment buildings, and streets shaded by broad trees, she became aware of how little of her own city she actually saw. She knew the airport routes, the entrance to her office building, the private dining rooms where she entertained clients, and the road to the estate. She did not know which corner bakery opened before dawn or which mechanics stayed late when a customer needed a car for work the next morning. Daniel's neighborhood seemed to operate on a different measure of time.