Chapter 3 Too much to know

Emily sat curled up on her couch, a blanket over her legs and her laptop resting on her knees. It had been four days since the alley, and her life hadn't been the same. She kept seeing that moment in her mind, the men, the bag, the dark car, and Alexander Moretti's face.

She tried to go about her daily routine, but her heart always beat too fast. She kept looking over her shoulder, jumping at small sounds. Every shadow felt like a threat.

Her best friend, Rachel, called that night.

"You okay? You sound weird lately."

Emily bit her lip. She had told Rachel nothing, but her silence had raised questions. "I'm just tired. Lots of studying. Work. You know."

"You sure? You're acting like someone's chasing you."

Emily paused. "What if... I saw something I wasn't supposed to? Something dangerous?"

Rachel laughed. "Like what? A murder?"

Emily didn't answer.

The silence on the line stretched. "Wait, Em... are you serious?"

"I think so," Emily whispered. "I-I saw someone. A powerful person. And now I think he's watching me."

"Who?" Rachel asked, her voice low now.

Emily hesitated. "Alexander Moretti."

Rachel let out a breath. "Emily, come on. The billionaire? The guy who funds half the hospitals in this city?"

"I know what I saw," Emily said. "He was in the alley near the shop. There were other men with him. And something... something was in the SUV."

Rachel was quiet for a second. Then she said, "I think you need sleep. Maybe you imagined it."

"I didn't."

"Okay, even if you did see something weird, you shouldn't talk about it. People like him... they have power, Emily. Real power. If he is involved in something bad, you don't want to be anywhere near it."

Emily's hand tightened on her phone. "It's too late."

"What do you mean?"

"I think someone's following me."

Rachel's voice went sharp. "You need to go to the police."

"I can't," Emily said. "What if they're paid off? What if this goes deeper than I can even understand?"

"Then you need to lay low," Rachel whispered. "Please. Don't do anything stupid."

Emily hung up soon after. She knew Rachel didn't believe her. Not really.

That night, she stayed up, trying to dig deeper into Alexander Moretti's past. She found glowing articles, business news, charity awards... but nothing real. No interviews. No childhood photos. Not even a clear record of where he had gone to school.

He was a mystery wrapped in a smile.

Then she found a small, old article buried in a forgotten blog. It was about a fire twenty years ago in a run-down part of Brooklyn. A warehouse burned to the ground. No names were listed, but at the bottom, someone had written a comment:

"Moretti always cleans his mess."

Her heart dropped.

She was in too deep.

But it was already too late to turn back.