Jennifer had always hated silence. It was too heavy, too sharp; like a blade pressed against her throat. Tonight, her apartment was drowning in it. The notes were gone, shredded and burned, but their echoes clung to the walls like smoke. She couldn't shake the feeling that someone was watching, waiting.

She opened her laptop, desperate for distraction, and that's when she saw it; a small, encrypted folder buried deep in her external drive. She didn't remember creating it. Didn't remember seeing it before. But the name stopped her cold:

Velvet_Echoes.

Her pulse quickened as she clicked it. A password prompt appeared, mocking her with its simplicity. She tried her birthday. Nothing. Her mother's name. Nothing. Then, almost without thinking, she typed-

Amir.

The screen flickered, and the folder opened.

Inside were dozens of files: text documents, images, and voice memos. Jennifer's breath caught as she scrolled through them. The first memo was dated three years ago, long before the masquerade. She clicked play.

Amir's voice filled the room, low and steady, like a ghost whispering through the wires.

"If you're hearing this, it means I failed. Or maybe I trusted you enough to let you see the truth. My name isn't the one you know. It never was. I was made, Jennifer. Shaped. Silas taught me everything; how to kill, how to disappear, how to wear a mask so well the world forgets your face."

Jennifer's hands trembled. Silas. The name was a knife carving through her thoughts. She clicked another file, and another. Each one peeled back a layer of Amir's life; a childhood stolen, a sister named Camila who vanished without a trace, and a man who turned him into a phantom.

"Silas isn't just a killer. He's a builder. He trains, he molds, he creates ghosts. I was his masterpiece. Until I broke the rules."

Jennifer swallowed hard, her throat dry. She clicked on the last memo, dated just weeks before Amir disappeared.

"If Silas comes back, he won't come alone. He'll bring the others. He'll build something bigger than before: a network, a legacy. Something like that Syndicate that's rumored to be active in Don Perico. Unseen by the untrained eyes but very much present in the shadows. And if he can't have me, he'll take what matters most to me. He'll take you."

The words slammed into her like a bullet. Jennifer slammed the laptop shut, her breath ragged. Her gaze darted to the velvet box on the dresser, the ring gleaming like a silent accusation.

She put her head in her hands, but the silence didn't last. A sound drifted through the apartment; a soft scrape, like footsteps on the balcony. Jennifer froze, her heart pounding. Slowly, she turned toward the window.

Once more, a single black feather lay on the sill.