PART 8:

You didn’t know what they were, but the flag drew attention. I flagged two grants, Aurora said, accounting discrepancies. My supervisor resolved them. I forgot about it. Ashford didn’t. Lucian held her gaze. Damen Cole was tasked with getting close to you, monitoring whether you’d connected the discrepancies to anything larger, whether you had documents, sources, anything that constituted a thread worth pulling.

The kitchen tile feeling again, that cold spreading stillness. How long? she asked. Your entire relationship? Two years. Every dinner, every Sunday morning, every moment she’d mistaken attention for affection, presence for love. Every time she told herself she was being paranoid about the distance she felt, the hollowess behind his eyes, and he’d said the right things, and she’d believed them because she wanted to.

Two years of being surveiled by someone she’d slept next to. Did he report on me? Her voice came out flat, which surprised her. She’d expected it to break quarterly. Lucian didn’t look away. He had the dignity at least not to soften it. You were flagged as low risk within the first 3 months. The relationship continued past its operational purpose because he stopped.

Because what? Because Damen Cole appears to have developed something like genuine feeling for you, Lucian said. Which is not the same as love. It’s not even the same as loyalty. But it complicated his reporting. That’s supposed to make it better. No, it’s just true. Aurora pressed her palm flat against the table. The pressure grounded her.

Is that everything? Lucian hesitated. In 3 hours of conversation spread across two days, she had not seen him hesitate. The hesitation was small. a half second, a controlled breath, the micro expression of a man deciding how much truth the moment required. But it was there. No, he said, “Then tell me the rest.

” Elena was monitoring the same nonprofit irregularities when she died. He said she’d traced the Asheford Network’s charitable front operation to three foundations. Two of them were the same ones connected to your compliance flags. The room was very quiet. She was building the same picture, Aurora said. Yes.

And I work at an organization connected to the same network she was investigating when they killed her. Yes. And Damian was placed in my life to make sure I wasn’t doing what she was doing. Yes. Aurora sat with that for a long moment. The whiteboard, her name in the corner, the lines connecting her to everything she hadn’t chosen.

I’m not just a witness, she said. I’m a loose thread. They’ve been watching for 2 years. Yes. Which means the moment they find out about the folder, they may already know it’s missing. Lucien said security at the Ashford Grand would have flagged the gap in the evening’s documentation by now. They’ll be working backward from the guest list. A pause.

You were on the guest list. So they know it was me. They suspect. They don’t have confirmation. How long before they confirm? 48 hours, possibly less. Aurora stood up. She needed to move. Needed the physical expression of the thing building in her chest. She walked to the window. The lake was out there somewhere beyond the city lights.

Dark and enormous and indifferent. 48 hours. The gala is in 10 days, she said. Yes. That’s not enough time to run. No. So, we moved the timeline. She heard his chair shift. When she turned, he was looking at her with that expression she was starting to recognize. The one that was almost surprised, but more disciplined than that.

The look of a man who expected people to seek exits and kept encountering someone going in the opposite direction. We can’t move the gala, he said. Not the gala, the evidence, the server. Is there any other way to access it? Remote. Reva looked up from her laptop. “The system is airgapped,” she said. Her voice was precise, clipped, the accent of someone educated across multiple countries.

“Physical access only. The server room has biometric entry, fingerprint, and retinal. Three people have access. Richard Ashford, his head of security, and Damian,” Aurora said. Reva nodded. Aurora turned back to the window. Her reflection looked back at her. dark clothing, hollow eyes, the face of someone who’d spent 36 hours being systematically dismantled.

If Damen gives me access, she said, I can get into the server room. He won’t give you access, Lucian said. He will if he thinks he has something to gain from it. She turned. He still thinks I don’t know. As far as he knows, I’m the heartbroken ex-girlfriend who came to his wedding and made a fool of herself. I’m manageable.

The word tasted like gravel. He’ll meet with me. I can play confused, hurt, looking for closure. I’ve been practicing that performance for 8 months. Turns out it was rehearsal. Lucian stood. He crossed the room and stopped 6 ft from her. The distance she’d noticed he maintained consistently as though proximity required permission he hadn’t given himself.

If he suspects anything, Lucian began. I know. If Ashford’s people are watching him, I know. Aurora, I know, she said sharply enough that it cut through. I know what happens. I know what the downside is. I’m not doing this because I’m not afraid. I’m doing it because Elena Voss is dead. And I spent 2 years being used by a man who reported on me like I was a surveillance subject.

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