Page 106 of Hidden Memories

She laughs. It’s sharp, bitter, and it hits me in the chest. Because I’ve heard that laugh before, back when she had to armor herself.

“Worried?” she echoes, folding her arms. “That’s funny. I don’t remember you worrying about me much before.”

His smile tightens, but he smooths a hand over his tie like he’s adjusting his composure. “The FBI raided my offices this morning.”

Kat’s posture doesn’t budge.

He watches her. Watches for a reaction. Like he’s already calculating his next move.

“They’ve been investigating Pacific Dreams.” His tone is so calm, so measured.

But there’s tension in his shoulders. “Do you understand just how dangerous this has all become?”

Kat is the picture of unimpressed. “Dangerous?”

I swear to God, I feel her sharpening herself like a blade.

She knows who she’s dealing with. How careful she has to be. I’m so fucking proud of her—she’s not going to let him lead this conversation.

“Why would I need to worry if everyone is innocent?” She’s strong and direct. “If Nic was innocent... Ifyou’reinnocent... We’ll all be okay in the end, right, Father?”

The mockery is so delicate, so subtle—but it’s a fucking masterpiece.

His smile goes stiff. His hands clasp in front of him. “You were married to Nicholas. You shared a home with him. Do you know what kind of man he was?”

A long beat of silence.

Kat lifts her chin, a queen assessing a pawn. “I know enough.”

My jaw clenches so tight my teeth ache. Every cell in my body is screaming to put myself between them.

Paul takes a step forward; he doesn’t glance at me but he thinks better of taking another. Kat stands her ground, but her shoulders tighten.

Santi, let her handle this.

My fingers twitch at my sides, my stance shifting just enough to be in striking distance. If he so much as raises a hand, I swear to God, I’ll send this motherfucker to Hell with one punch.

But Kat meets his stare, unflinching, unshaken, and my chest swells with pride and pure, undiluted rage all at once.

She shouldn’t have to fight this fight. But she’s choosing to.

Paul’s gaze sharpens with careful, veiled urgency. “Do you know enough to keep yourself safe? To protect Theo?”

My jaw clenches.

He’s fishing. Does he suspect she has evidence? Or worse—does he already know about the flash drives?

Kat crosses her arms, cold as hell. “Theo and I are safe here, Dad. We don’t need your concern.”

“But you do need protection.”

I growl. “She has protection.”

His tone shifts toward something darker. “This is the Mafia we’re talking about. They don’t play games. If you have anything—anything at all—they’ll come for it. They’ll use whatever leverage they can find.”

My fistscurl so tight my knuckles crack.

“She’s safe here.” My words are pure steel. “And she doesn’t need your advice.”

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