A knock interrupted her thoughts. Mrs. Jenkins stood outside the apartment carrying a casserole dish. "I made too much food again."
Maya smiled. The older woman always claimed she cooked too much; the truth was she worried about Maya eating alone. "Thank you."
Mrs. Jenkins stepped inside. Her eyes immediately found the notebook. "Still reading that thing?"
Maya nodded. "I think Grandma was trying to tell me something."
The old woman sat down slowly. "What kind of something?"
Maya hesitated, then told her about Ethan, about the photograph, about the notebook, about the doctor. Mrs. Jenkins listened carefully. When Maya finished, the old woman remained quiet for several seconds.
Then she said something unexpected: "Your grandmother never trusted that doctor."
Maya froze. "What?"
Mrs. Jenkins nodded. "I remember."
"You do?"
"Years ago." The old woman stared toward the window, remembering. "Ruth used to visit a rehabilitation center where some of Ethan Caldwell's former employees volunteered." Maya listened closely. "One day she came home upset."
"Why?"
"Because she thought something didn't add up."
A chill ran through Maya: the exact same words written inside the notebook—something doesn't fit.
Mrs. Jenkins continued, "She never told me details, but she kept asking questions."
"What questions?"
"The kind powerful people don't like."
The room suddenly felt smaller. Maya looked back at the notebook. For the first time, she realized Grandma Ruth hadn't simply collected stories: she had been investigating something, something important, something unfinished.
That afternoon, Maya headed to Ethan's mansion carrying more questions than answers. The city seemed louder than usual: buses hissed at corners, traffic lights blinked, sirens echoed somewhere downtown. Everything felt normal, yet Maya couldn't shake the feeling that something bigger was happening.
When she reached the mansion, Ethan was already waiting—not outside, but inside, in the study. Medical records covered every surface: folders, documents, printed emails, notes. The room looked more like a detective's office than a billionaire's home.
Maya stepped inside. "Wow."
Ethan looked up. His eyes appeared tired, but different: focused, determined. "Hi."
"What happened here?"
Ethan gestured around the room. "I'm trying to figure out whether I've been lied to."