There was a knock at the door—two short taps, then one long. Darian stiffened. Only a few people knew that rhythm. And those who did, never came without purpose.
Selene adjusted the lapel of her satin robe, her eyes narrowing as Darian moved to open the door.
In stepped a man with sandy blond hair slicked back, a scar along his left brow, and eyes like fractured glass. He wore a tailored grey suit and carried an aura that made even Darian tense.
"Elijah." Darian closed the door behind him, voice neutral but edged.
Elijah smirked. "You look well-fed, Darian. And Selene… still as dangerous as a serpent wrapped in silk."
Selene crossed her legs slowly. "I don't recall inviting you."
"I wasn't waiting for an invitation," Elijah said, helping himself to the whiskey decanter on the side table. "I heard you're close to dethroning Zane Moretti. That's... tempting."
Darian folded his arms. "Where did you hear that?"
"Elena," he replied casually. "She has a big mouth when she's drunk."
Selene scoffed. "Then you should know we're working on it—not throwing a party."
Elijah sat down opposite them, swirling the amber liquid. "I'm not here to celebrate. I'm here to offer my help."
Darian exchanged a glance with Selene. Neither trusted Elijah. He was a mercenary—loyal to power, not people.
"What do you want in return?" Selene asked sharply.
"A seat," Elijah said. "On the board, once the company's yours. I want influence. Control. A cut."
Darian didn't answer right away. Instead, he walked to the bar, poured himself a drink, and leaned against the counter. "You want to help bring Zane down... why?"
Elijah's expression darkened. "He ruined my father. Cut him out of the company in '06. Drove him to bankruptcy. I've been waiting for someone to finish the job."
Selene tilted her head. "And if we say no?"
Elijah smiled thinly. "Then I'll go to Zane. Tell him about your affair with Amara. How you plan to kill her. How you forged signatures, bribed board members—"
"Enough." Darian's voice was steel. "You threaten us again, and you'll leave this apartment in pieces."
Selene stood slowly. "But he has a point, Darian. He knows too much."
Elijah raised his glass. "Then it's settled. I'm in."
Selene hesitated, but her calculating mind was already adjusting. An extra ally, even a volatile one, could be useful—for now.
"Fine," she said. "But betray us, and I'll make your father's downfall look like a love letter."
Elijah grinned. "Understood."
As the room fell into a tense silence, another phone buzzed. Selene glanced down. A message.
Unknown Number: You can lie to the world, Selene. But you can't lie to the dead.
Her breath caught.
She turned the screen away quickly and deleted the message before Darian noticed.
"Problem?" he asked, noticing her tension.
She forced a smile. "Spam."
But her skin prickled. A cold dread slipped into her spine. It wasn't the message that unsettled her—it was the timing. Something about Amara's sudden warmth toward Zane, her newfound tenderness, her silences… it all felt off.
Elijah rose. "I'll be in touch. Don't get too comfortable—Zane isn't as alone as you think."
After the door shut behind him, Selene walked to the window, staring out over the city.
Darian came up behind her, resting a hand on her shoulder. "He's just trying to rattle you."
"It's not him," she whispered.
"What then?"
"Her," Selene said. "Amara's different. And I don't like it."
Darian's hand dropped. "If she becomes a problem, I'll handle it."
Selene turned to him, voice quiet but sharp. "You had your chance once. Don't mess it up again."
He said nothing, but his jaw clenched with a quiet fury.
And in that silence, both of them knew the truth: Amara wasn't the pawn they once believed her to be. Something had shifted.
And they were running out of time to figure out what.