Nolan's fingers drummed a relentless rhythm against the polished surface of his desk. The revelations he'd uncovered weighed on him like a physical burden, each new piece of information stoking the fire of his rage. If Miranda's parents had been victims of a deliberate scheme rather than a tragic accident, the perpetrators had no idea what kind of vengeance they had awakened.
A sharp knock interrupted his dark thoughts.
"Come in," he called, his voice betraying none of the turmoil within.
Ben entered, clutching a thick file that spelled trouble. "Miranda just went to the restroom. She mentioned you were alone."
Nolan nodded curtly, silently authorizing him to proceed.
"We've gathered additional information since this morning," Ben said, closing the door behind him before placing the hefty file on Nolan's desk and taking a seat.
Nolan straightened, instantly alert. "Talk to me."
