The next morning, Lena stood outside Adebayo’s office with her hand hovering just inches from the door. Her heart hammered in her chest—not with fear, but with something dangerously close to joy. 

A real case. Not finding lost animals. Not a simple observation into the past. Something that well and truly mattered.

She knocked.

“Come in,” Adebayo called from the other side.Lena opened the door—and immediately realized they weren't alone.

Seated opposite Adebayo’s desk was a frail older woman in a tailored purple pantsuit, the fabric immaculate and sharp despite her delicate frame. A matching hat perched atop her silver hair, adorned with lace and artificial flowers; the lace draped low enough to partially veil her face. 

The woman turned slowly in her chair as Lena entered. Her expression was cold at first. Appraising. Almost severe. Then, in the span of a breath, it shifted into something else entirely.

Quiet. Conflicted. Hopeful.

The look lingered on Lena in a way that made her skin prickle.

“Ah, Ms. Cross!” Adebayo said warmly. “I presume you’re here for your trial case?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Lena replied, straightening her shoulders. She crossed the room and sat in the empty chair beside the woman, acutely aware that she still hadn’t looked away.

“Well,” Adebayo continued, “introductions are in order. Ms. Cross, meet your client.”

Adebayo extended a hand toward the woman. The woman mirrored the gesture towards Lena. Lena took her hand, surprised by the firmness of her grip.

“My name is Irina Rostova,” the woman said, her voice crisp, accented, unmistakably Russian. “Daughter of Viktor Bychkov.”

“Oh—um. Nice to meet you,” Lena replied, momentarily thrown. She wasn’t sure why the woman had felt the need to announce her lineage so pointedly. Irina’s eyebrow arched. “Do you not know the Bychkov name?”

Lena hesitated. “I… can’t say that I do.”

Irina huffed softly. “We make luxury vehicles designed to withstand even a sniper rifle’s bullet. Durable. Reliable. Highly sought after by many… influential people.”

“Oh,” Lena said quickly. “Right. Yes. I—uh—those cars.”

Irina gave a satisfied nod, as if that explained everything.

“So,” Lena said, turning toward Adebayo, brow furrowed, “why was I requested for this case, Director?”

“I can answer that,” Irina said smoothly, cutting in before Adebayo could speak. “It seems we share a mutual friend. Dolores.”

Lena’s stomach dropped.

“She told me you have a remarkable gift for solving… unusual cases,” Irina continued, punctuating the statement with a knowing wink.

‘Did Dolores tell her?’ Lena thought, dread icing her veins. ‘Did she tell her everything?’

Irina noticed the shift immediately. A dry chuckle escaped her lips, humorless but oddly reassuring.

“Worry not, dear,” she said. “The Bychkov family is well acquainted with secrets. Yours is safe.”

Lena let out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. “Thank you.”

Adebayo cleared her throat pointedly and slid a file across the desk. “Moving on. Ms. Cross, this is your trial case.”

Lena opened it, her eyes scanning photographs and reports as Irina began to speak.

“My father was found dead in his study,” Irina said. “Second floor of his mansion. A single knife wound to the chest.”

Lena paused at the image of Viktor Bychkov slumped in his chair, his white button-up stained crimson at the center.

“The door was locked from the inside,” Irina continued, voice tightening. “The only key was found clenched in his hand.”

Lena frowned. “The police ruled it a suicide?”

“Yes,” Irina said bitterly. “Despite the evidence. Despite him. My father was a proud man. Strong. He would never surrender to weakness—especially not of the mind.”

“Do you suspect anyone?” Lena asked gently. “Staff, rivals, former employees?”

Irina’s gaze dropped to her folded hands. 

“I have one suspect.” She hesitated. “However, I do not wish to believe it.”

Adebayo spoke quietly. “Her son. Nikolai Rostova.”

Irina’s composure cracked. She turned her face away, choking back a sob.

“Нико… болван,” she whispered. “Неужели ты думал, что я не пойму?” (Translation: Niko... you blockhead. Did you really think I wouldn’t figure it out?)

Lena closed the file and looked at her fully. “Why do you suspect him, Mrs. Rostova?”

Irina dabbed at her eyes and straightened. “Since my father’s death, Nikolai has been… different. Nervous. Restless. And he keeps asking when he can claim his inheritance.”

“If he is responsible,” Lena said carefully, “what will you do?”

Irina lifted her chin, steel returning to her spine. “I will turn that негодяй (Translation: scoundrel) over to the authorities myself.”

Lena blinked, startled—but also somewhat relieved.

“I’ll take the case,” she said firmly. “I’ll find out who killed Viktor Bychkov.”

Adebayo smiled. “Very well. Best of luck, Ms. Cross.”

A dark, swirling portal blossomed into existence behind Lena, humming softly. Irina gasped, rising from her chair, tentatively reaching a hand out to it. “How fascinating…”

“Please don’t touch it,” Lena said quickly. “It’ll burn you.”

Irina laughed, withdrawing her hand. “I am not afraid of a little pain. But—please.” She pressed a hand to her chest. “Help my father find peace.”

“I will,” Lena promised. She stepped through the portal.

The trial case had officially begun.

To be continued...