Penny returned to her room at The Maple Bed and Breakfast, the door clicking softly shut behind her. She dropped her bag onto the bed and walked straight to the small desk by the window, where the soft glow of the desk lamp illuminated her laptop. She sank into the chair, her back aching from the tension of the day, but she pushed the discomfort aside. She needed answers, and the only way to find them was to keep digging.

She pulled up the intranet for her law firm, navigating to the research database. It was one of the most powerful tools at her disposal—she had access to resources that could sift through years of legal filings, business transactions, and corporate connections in mere minutes. Yet, as she typed in Greely, LLC and searched, she came up empty. No results, no filings, no connections to any known companies or individuals.

Her fingers hovered over the keys, frustration beginning to build. The name Greely was sitting right at the edge of her mind, just out of reach. She could feel the connection forming, like a puzzle that was almost complete but just missing that one final piece. She rubbed her temples, trying to focus, but the weariness was creeping in, settling like a weight on her shoulders.

She tried a different search—looking up the LLC's business activities in the area, any filings related to Avon. Still nothing.

"Come on," she muttered under her breath, clicking through several more screens. She scanned through a list of real estate transactions, business ownership records, anything that could tie Greely to something more tangible. But nothing.

Her eyes were starting to burn from the glow of the screen, her back aching from sitting too long in the same position. She knew she needed a break, but she couldn't afford to stop now. Time was running out, and every minute she spent without a lead felt like another step closer to losing everything Avon held dear.

Penny's mind swirled as she sat at the desk, the name Greely, LLC echoing in her thoughts like a distant bell that she couldn't quite reach. She'd been digging through endless files and databases, trying to make the pieces of the puzzle fit, but there was something she couldn't quite grasp. The name was right there, hovering at the edge of her memory, teasing her, but she couldn't make the connection. It was like trying to remember a dream that had already slipped away by the time she woke.

Her fingers hovered over the keys, frustration creeping into her chest. She needed a break, a moment to clear her head. Penny leaned back in her chair, rubbing her eyes, the burn of exhaustion clouding her thoughts. As she did, her gaze fell to the front page of her firm's intranet, where the latest news and updates were always displayed. The image that caught her attention was a bright one—Bob Sanford, smiling broadly, standing among the other partners in front of an oversized check for the local food bank. It was an annual Thanksgiving tradition, one Penny had seen many times before. The founding partners, long retired, watched over the event from an old oil painting that hung in the background. The photo was taken in front of the painting, the men's serious, almost stoic expressions contrasting with the warmth of the modern-day celebration.

Penny's eyes lingered on the painting. She had walked past it countless times in the firm's lobby over the years, the names beneath the men's portraits fading into the background. But tonight, her gaze was drawn to the names once more. The names had long since been dropped from the firm's current branding as the newer partners had taken over, their influence replacing the old guard. Still, the men remained there, captured in the oil painting, silent observers of the firm's success.

Her eyes scanned the names beneath each figure, lingering on the second man, whose nameplate read James Greely. Penny froze. Greely.

The connection clicked, the memory rushing back like a floodgate opening. James Greely. She had walked by this painting every day for years, barely giving the names a second thought. But now, the name that had been hidden in plain sight suddenly felt monumental. James Greely. He was one of the founding partners of her firm.

But there was no way it could be the same Greely. She shook her head, trying to dismiss the thought. Her firm couldn't be involved in anything like this—the shady dealings of small-town real estate, quietly acquiring properties, pushing out local businesses. It had to be a coincidence. Maybe someone had taken the same last name, or maybe there were multiple Greelys involved in different industries.

Yet, as the thought lingered, Penny's gut told her otherwise. She stared at the nameplate, the golden letters gleaming in the soft light of the screen. James Greely—one of the original partners of her prestigious law firm, the man whose legacy was still part of the office, despite the passage of time. Could her firm, in some way, be linked to the very company that was buying up Avon's businesses? It was absurd. She couldn't believe it.

The nagging feeling wouldn't go away. Penny's mind raced, trying to connect the dots between the firm's past and what was happening in Avon. Was it possible that someone connected to her firm had a hand in Greely, LLC? That her firm's legacy had a dark side she hadn't known about? She hadn't thought to ask questions before, but now that she was seeing the name in a different light, the connection seemed too strong to ignore.

Penny blinked, trying to clear the confusion. It couldn't be the same Greely, she told herself again. She couldn't believe that her firm, the firm that prided itself on integrity and high-profile clients, could be connected to the shady business dealings in small towns. It was too far-fetched, too impossible to imagine. But the more she thought about it, the more the pieces started to fit.

She pushed herself away from the desk, standing up and pacing the small room. Her back ached from sitting too long, and her mind felt fogged, like it was covered in layers of dust she couldn't wipe away. It was hard to know what to trust—her instincts, the evidence, or the nagging feeling that something far larger was at play.

The more she tried to rationalize it, the less certain she became. Her firm had to be connected. The name wasn't just a coincidence.

Penny sat back down, her eyes flicking between the image of the food bank check and the painting of the old partners. James Greely's face stared back at her from the past, his legacy part of a much larger story. She was staring at something bigger than herself now. If she wanted answers, she couldn't keep looking away.

She picked up her phone, her fingers already poised to make a call. She needed to dig deeper. This wasn't just about saving Avon anymore—it was about uncovering a truth she wasn't sure she was ready to face.