Chapter 4 Mystery

Mira's POV

Across the city, I unlocked the door to my small one-bedroom apartment just after ten o'clock. I slipped off my shoes with a tired sigh and dropped my handbag onto the couch.

“What a night…” I murmured, rubbing my aching shoulders.

The engagement gala was supposed to be an ordinary assignment. Take photographs, ask a few questions, write the article, and go home… Simple.

Except I couldn't stop thinking about Kieran Vale.

I walked into the kitchen, made myself a cup of coffee, and returned to my desk. After connecting my camera's memory card to my laptop, hundreds of photographs from the gala appeared across the screen.

Vanessa smiling for the cameras. Business leaders raising their glasses. Politicians shaking hands. And finally, Kieran Vale.

I clicked through several photographs until I stopped on one of him. He looked calm and confident, just as he always did in public.

I opened a blank document and began typing. “Vale Group CEO Kieran Vale officially announced the beginning of a new chapter in his life during his engagement ceremony to Vanessa Pierce, daughter of the influential Pierce political family…”

I stopped.

Something about the sentence didn't feel right, so I deleted it. Instead, I opened the video footage from the gala.

The master of ceremonies welcomed the guests, applause filled the ballroom, and then the press session began.

I watched myself step forward with the microphone. “Mr. Vale… What does it feel like to finally move on after three years?”

I paused the video. My brows drew together, as I rewound it.

“What does it feel like to finally move on after three years?”

Pause.

I leaned closer to the screen. And there… His smile disappeared. His fingers tightened around the champagne flute in his hand, and his jaw stiffened.

It lasted only for a while, but I noticed it. I replayed the clip again. The same reaction. I leaned back slowly, resting my elbow on the desk.

“Why did that question bother you so much?” I murmured, staring at his frozen face on the screen.

Then it hit me… Three years. I opened a browser and typed.

Kieran Vale wife death.

The first headline immediately caught my attention.

THE ELYSIUM YACHT TRAGEDY CLAIMS TWELVE LIVES.

I clicked it.

Three years ago, the Elysium yacht had exploded, killing twelve people. One of them was Celeste Vale, Kieran's wife. Authorities had ruled the explosion an accident caused by mechanical failure.

I opened another article… Same story. Another… Same conclusion. Another… Almost the exact same wording.

I frowned and leaned closer to the screen, as I read through several reports. Mechanical failure, twelve deaths, insurance settlement, investigation concluded, and case closed.

That was it.

I stared at the screen. “Twelve people died,” I whispered, resting my chin against my hand. “And that's all?”

I kept reading.

There were no detailed witness accounts. No conflicting statements. No explanation of why the investigation had ended so quickly. Every report seemed to lead back to the same official conclusion.

I opened another tab.

ELYSIUM SHIPPING.

More results appeared. I clicked through them, searching for anything that didn't fit. The more I searched, the more uncomfortable I became. There were gaps in the timeline. Missing details. Records that were difficult to find.

I leaned back in my chair and folded my arms. My instincts were screaming at me. Whenever every report told the same clean story, there was usually another story buried underneath it.

My phone buzzed, and I glanced at the screen.

Chief Editor – Richard Lawson.

I picked up the phone and answered. “Good evening, Chief.”

“I just finished reading your draft,” Richard said.

I could hear papers being moved on his end. I straightened in my chair. “And?”

“It'll do.”

I smiled faintly and leaned back. Coming from Richard, that was practically praise. “I actually wanted to ask you something.”

The sound of papers stopped. “I'm listening,” he replied.

I looked at Kieran's frozen face on the screen. “I don't think the yacht explosion was investigated properly.”

Richard was silent for a moment, then I heard him exhale slowly. “What makes you say that?”

I picked up my pen and tapped it lightly against the desk. “I've been reading the reports, and they're too clean.”

“Too clean?” Richard repeated, shifting in his chair.

I turned slightly toward the laptop. “Every report says the same thing. There's barely anything beyond the official statement.”

Richard sighed and leaned back. “Mira, it happened three years ago. The authorities closed the case. Why reopen it now?”

I lowered the pen and looked at the screen. “Because something doesn't add up.”

“You don't have evidence.”

I swallowed. “Not yet.”

The line went quiet.

Then Richard asked, “Do you know how many reporters have tried digging into Elysium Shipping?”

I frowned. “No.”

“Five.”

I sat up. “Five?”

“One transferred to another newspaper. One resigned.” He said. “Two abandoned their investigations halfway.”

My stomach tightened. “And the fifth?” I leaned closer to the phone.

“The fifth disappeared.”

My hand froze. “What?”

“He disappeared,” Richard repeated, his voice lower this time.

I stared at my laptop. “How?”

“We don't know.” He continued. “Not explanation, not reported, and it never became public.”

I looked at the headlines again. “What exactly is Elysium Shipping hiding?”

“I don't know,” Richard replied. “And that's exactly why I don't want you chasing this story.”

I leaned forward, gripping the edge of the desk. “But if there's something there…”

“Mira.” His voice became firm.

I stopped talking.

“You're one of the best investigative reporters I've worked with,” he said, his tone softening slightly.

A faint smile touched my lips. “Thank you.”

Richard paused before adding, “Which is why I'd like to keep you alive.”

My smile disappeared.

He continued, “I'm serious. If you decide to investigate Elysium Shipping, be careful.”

I nodded slowly. “I understand.”

The call ended. I lowered the phone and stared at it. For a few seconds, I didn't move. I knew that Richard wanted me to forget it, finish the engagement article, and move on.

Any sensible reporter would have closed the laptop, but I reached for my notebook instead. At the top of a blank page, I wrote: ELYSIUM SHIPPING.

Beneath it, I listed everything I knew. There were too many missing pieces. I opened another tab and searched for public records related to the accident.

Most had been archived.

The remaining records were unavailable or had been removed from public access. I searched for the original investigation report… Nothing.

I leaned back in my chair and rubbed my tired eyes. “This is getting interesting,” I murmured.

I opened the gala footage again. Kieran appeared on the screen. I watched myself ask the question.

“What does it feel like to finally move on after three years?”

His smile disappeared, and I paused the video. There was something in his eyes. Something he had tried to hide.

I stared at the screen. “What happened three years ago, Kieran?” I whispered.

I didn't expect an answer, but I had a feeling the question mattered. I reached for my notebook and wrote one final sentence beneath my notes.

Find out what really happened on the Elysium.

I stared at the words, as Richard's warning echoed in my mind. Yet instead of closing the notebook, I picked up my pen again.

That was the problem with unanswered questions. Once they got under my skin, I couldn't leave them alone.

I slowly shut my laptop. “Let's see what you're hiding, Mr. Vale,” I murmured, placing my notebook beside the laptop.

Then I turned off the light and walked toward my bedroom.

I had gone home expecting to write about a billionaire's engagement. Instead, I had found a three-year-old mystery.

And somehow, I already knew I was going to dig until I found the truth.