Sebastian
The envelope arrived by courier just after ten in the morning, marked confidential and urgent in bold red lettering, addressed to me personally rather than routed through my assistant. I nearly dismissed it as another piece of the endless correspondence generated by the ongoing restructuring crisis, but something about the careful, deliberate handwriting on the front made me set aside the quarterly reports I'd been reviewing and open it myself, alone, before anyone else could see the contents.
The photographs slid out first, three of them, grainy but unmistakable. Myself, entering Julian's building through the side door. A lit window on the fourth floor, two silhouettes visible against drawn blinds before the light had gone dark. And a third image, taken more recently, clearer
