The package sat on the edge of Malia's desk, a plain brown box sealed with ordinary packing tape. There was no return address, only her name scrawled in neat black letters across the top.
Anna had brought it in that morning, setting it down with a casual remark: "This came for you. Courier didn't say where it's from."
Malia stared at it now, her stomach twisting in knots. It wasn't unusual for clients or collaborators to send her things—documents, products to review, sometimes even gifts. But this… something about this box felt different. Off.
She ran her fingers along the tape but didn't open it right away. A part of her didn't want to know what was inside. Her instincts screamed that it was trouble.
With a deep breath, she grabbed a letter opener and carefully sliced through the tape. The flaps popped open, revealing a pile of photographs, a small stack of papers, and a single folded note.
