Serena's POV
As the morning sun filtered through the heavy curtains of our London townhouse, I found myself staring at my laptop screen, a chill running down my spine despite the warmth of the room.
"Ryan," I called out, my voice barely above a whisper. "You need to see this."
Ryan appeared in the doorway of our bedroom, his hair still damp from the shower, a towel draped around his shoulders. The moment he saw my expression, his casual demeanor shifted, instantly alert.
"What is it?" he asked, crossing the room in three long strides.
I turned the screen toward him, revealing a series of emails I'd received from an anonymous sender who identified themselves only as "Triton." The subject line read: "The Truth About Ethan's Accident."
"These are financial transactions bet
