Adrian sat back in his sleek European apartment, fingers steepled under his chin, the glow of the livestream casting pale shadows across his face. The quiet hum of the city outside barely touched him; all his focus was pinned to the screen where Evelyn, radiant and trembling, played her part to perfection.
His jaw tightened as Evelyn's voice, soft and wavering, drifted through the speakers. "I—I've always tried to do what's right. I just… I don't understand why I'm being attacked this way." Her hands pressed delicately to her chest, fingers trembling just enough to seem sincere, and a soft gasp rippled through the crowd on screen.
Adrian exhaled through his nose, sharp and slow, his chest rising in a tightly controlled rhythm. A muscle twitched at the corner of his jaw, his fingers flexing once on the polished wood of the armchair. The soft tick of the clock on the mantel sounded unusually loud, marking the seconds as if they were being counted against Evelyn's crumbling performance.
"Still at it," he murmured, voice low, the edge of exhaustion cutting through. The whiskey glass at his elbow sat untouched, the amber liquid casting fractured gold patterns across the dark marble tabletop. His thumb ran slowly along the rim of the glass, the coolness grounding him even as his gaze sharpened.
His phone buzzed once—Lottie's encrypted message blinking to life.
—She's crumbling. You'll see soon.
A flicker of something twisted in Adrian's chest—relief, anger, anticipation tangled into a knot he didn't bother naming. His thumb hovered over the screen before tapping back a reply, each keystroke punctuated by a sharp inhale.
—Send everything you have. I want no doubts left.
Across the ocean, Lottie's fingers moved with swift precision over her phone, the cool glass slick under her touch. Her pulse thrummed steadily in her ears, a soft counterpoint to the muffled noise of the house below. Mason leaned against the wide window, arms crossed, a ghost of a smirk playing at his lips as he watched the garden lights ripple across the Hayes estate lawn. His reflection in the glass was sharp-edged and blurred all at once, a fox's grin barely hidden beneath the calm.
"She's going to try to intercept Adrian," Mason said, glancing over his shoulder. His voice was a low rumble, threaded with quiet amusement. "Count on it."
"I'm counting on her trying," Lottie murmured, voice barely audible above the crackle of the fire in the corner. Her eyes flicked to the latest notification—Adrian's message, tight and urgent—and her thumb moved again, sending off a compressed file. A slow, controlled breath slid past her lips as she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, the slight tremble in her fingers gone in an instant.
In the garden below, Evelyn posed near the marble fountain, her silhouette haloed by the soft gleam of the lanterns strung through the hedges. She tilted her head just so, letting the moonlight catch the glint of a tear as her PR team circled like well-dressed vultures, cameras ready, smiles polished. The delicate scent of night-blooming jasmine clung to the air, mixing with the faint tang of champagne and tension.
"Perfect," the lead publicist cooed, fingers snapping twice for a final adjustment to Evelyn's hair. "We'll push this out with a statement of resilience. Everyone loves a comeback."
Evelyn's lips curved faintly, a tight smile that barely softened the tension strung beneath her skin. Her hands, folded carefully at her waist, trembled despite her efforts, the fine silk of her gown pulled taut over clenched fists. Her gaze darted once, twice, toward the house, a flicker of panic sharpening in her eyes before the mask slipped smoothly back into place.
Upstairs, Leo sprawled on a velvet armchair, laptop balanced on his knees, headphones slung crookedly around his neck. Lines of code flickered across his screen, each keystroke a quiet drumbeat in the charged air. He chewed lightly at his lower lip, eyes narrowing in satisfaction as a fresh alert pinged across his feed.
"Nice try," he muttered under his breath, a grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. His fingers danced over the keyboard, locking Evelyn's latest attempt to contact Adrian in a neat digital cage. "Not today, princess."
"Anything dangerous?" Lottie's voice was soft but edged with steel, her back straight, shoulders held in an effortless line of control. Her eyes glinted as she leaned forward slightly, one foot tapping a silent rhythm against the floor.
"Just the usual sugar-coated lies," Leo replied, his grin widening as another alert flashed. "She's pulling every string she's got. Even the tired ones."
Lottie's eyes flicked to Amy, who hovered near the side table, fingers twisting the edge of a folder stuffed with notes and clippings. Amy's face was pale, the faint sheen of sweat on her forehead catching the light, her lower lip pulled between her teeth.
"Do you think… Adrian will believe us?" Amy's voice broke slightly, the guilt threaded through each word unmistakable.
"He already does," Lottie answered without hesitation, though a flicker of unease rippled deep beneath her ribs. "He just needs the last piece." Her fingers brushed lightly over the edge of a nearby chair, the worn velvet rough against her skin.
Downstairs, Evelyn lifted a trembling hand to brush a curl behind her ear, her smile catching for a heartbeat as a reporter stepped forward.
"Evelyn," the reporter's voice cut smoothly through the murmurs, "how do you respond to the growing concerns about financial irregularities in your charity?"
Evelyn's throat worked once in a quick, sharp swallow. "I—I've always given everything I could," she said softly, her voice quivering just enough to stir sympathy. "It breaks my heart to hear such accusations." Her eyes glistened in the lantern glow, and for a moment, the crowd softened. But Lottie, watching from the upstairs window, saw the tension in Evelyn's shoulders, the flash of calculation behind the glassy stare.
From the edge of the terrace, Mason's low chuckle rumbled in Lottie's ear. "She's working overtime tonight."
"She has no choice," Lottie murmured, her gaze steady, the faintest tremor at the corner of her mouth betraying a hidden flicker of anticipation.
Back in Europe, Adrian leaned forward, elbows on his knees, watching the chat flood past on the livestream.
—Poor Evelyn.
—She's so misunderstood.
—Wait, what's this about charity fraud?
His jaw hardened, eyes narrowing as Lottie's new file arrived. He clicked it open, and image after image flickered across the screen—documents, photos, receipts, whispers turned to evidence. His chest tightened, one hand rising to scrub roughly through his hair.
A knock sounded at the door. Adrian's advisor, Thomas, peeked in, brow furrowed. "Sir, the board is asking if you'll be extending your stay."
Adrian stood abruptly, tension coiling through his frame. "No. Book the jet." His voice was clipped, final. He reached for his coat, fingers curling tight around the fabric, his shoulders squared against the weight pressing down on him.
At the Hayes estate, Mason's phone buzzed. He glanced at the screen, then lifted his head with a grin. "Your knight is inbound."
Lottie's fingers hovered for a moment before she tucked her phone away. Her pulse beat a little faster, a faint tremor shivering through her chest, but she stilled it with a breath. She crossed to the window, fingertips brushing lightly against the cool glass, eyes fixed on Evelyn's figure below.
In the garden, Evelyn pressed her palms together, her smile tight as another flashbulb popped. Her voice wavered, catching on a note of strain. "I just want to thank everyone for standing by me during these difficult times." Her fingers clenched almost imperceptibly, the delicate tendons in her hands standing out like thin ropes beneath her skin.
Amy watched from behind a hedge, fingers curled so tight around her phone the plastic creaked softly under the pressure. Her breath came fast, her chest rising and falling in shallow waves. She wiped at her eyes roughly, forcing down the knot in her throat before texting with trembling thumbs.
—It's happening.
Upstairs, Leo's laptop chimed. "Amy says she's unraveling," he murmured. His fingers flew over the keys. "I'm lining up the timestamps for Adrian." His grin faltered for just a heartbeat, a flicker of protective instinct flashing across his face. "She's more brittle than I thought."
In Adrian's apartment, his phone vibrated sharply as the last link came through. He swiped it open, his breath held for a beat, then two.
"I need to hear this face-to-face," he muttered, slipping his phone into his pocket with a decisive click.
Outside the house, Evelyn's fingers clenched at her sides, nails biting into her palms beneath the long sleeves of her gown. She inhaled sharply, holding the air in her lungs as if she could force calm into her veins. The sound of laughter drifted from the terrace, light and sharp-edged, and for a moment her eyes fluttered closed, lashes trembling.
But Lottie saw the slip—the fleeting wince, the dart of her eyes, the way her shoulders trembled for just a second too long.
"She knows," Mason murmured, his voice soft as a blade sliding free of its sheath. "She feels it closing in."
Lottie's lips curved, the faintest tilt, a queen watching the end of a long game. Her hand brushed once more against the glass, the cool bite a perfect counterpoint to the heat building under her skin.
Inside, Amy rushed into the room, a flush on her cheeks, the folder clutched to her chest. "It's spreading. The old videos, the new stories—people are connecting the dots. It's all over social media." Her voice cracked, breathless, a note of hope and terror tangled at the edges.
Lottie reached out, fingers brushing briefly against Amy's arm. "Stay close," she murmured. "We're almost there."
Outside, the wind stirred the lanterns, making the light dance across Evelyn's face. Her lashes fluttered as she blinked fast, her teeth catching the corner of her lip for the barest second. Her smile flickered, the edges fraying, the delicate threads slipping through her fingers.
"She'll break," Mason whispered, eyes sharp on the scene below. "Just a little longer."
Lottie's breath slipped out in a slow exhale, the air cool against her skin, the weight of the night pressing down. Her hand flexed once at her side, then steadied, fingers loose, ready.
The moon hung pale and high overhead, casting its cold silver over the garden, the terrace, the watchers in the dark. Evelyn's smile wavered, the corners trembling, the mask slipping by degrees.
And Lottie watched, silent and still, as the storm gathered.