The morning dawned with an unsettling stillness that clung to the Blake estate like fog. Elena stood by the window in Lucien's study, watching the wind tease the trees. The room was dimly lit, the air thick with tension. Behind her, Darius clicked away on a secure laptop, Camille flipped through a folder of surveillance images, and Lucien paced like a predator in a cage.
It had been three days since they'd confirmed Vincent was actively surveilling Elena.
Three days since the war had gone from silent to personal.
Elena could feel it in her bones—the calm before the storm. And storms, she knew, always left something broken.
"We have to flip this," Lucien said suddenly, halting in front of the window. "He's watching us, waiting for us to make a mistake. We need to give him one."
Camille raised an eyebrow. "You're suggesting we bait him?"
Lucien nodded. "Yes. Let him think he has the upper hand."
Elena turned. "You want to use me as bait?"
He flinched at the implication. "No. I want him to think he's using you."
A tense silence followed. Darius finally spoke.
"It's risky, Lucien. If Vincent has eyes on Elena, she needs to follow a script—every step planned. One wrong move, and he'll know it's a trap."
"I can do it," Elena said quietly.
Lucien's eyes snapped to hers. "Elena—"
"You said I'm involved. That we do this together," she interrupted, her voice firm. "Let me be useful."
He exhaled slowly, then gave a single nod. "Alright. Let's write the perfect lie."
That night, Elena left the estate under the pretense of needing space. She wore a hooded coat and simple jeans, her makeup light, her expression carefully guarded.
She drove herself—alone—to the apartment she used to live in, which was now part of a stage.
Inside, Camille had already planted bugs and hidden cameras. Darius monitored the feed from a van parked nearby, while Lucien watched everything from the estate.
Elena entered the dimly lit apartment and flipped on the lights. Her fingers trembled only slightly as she pulled out a burner phone from her pocket—the one Lucien had given her.
She dialed a number they knew was being monitored by Vincent's network.
A pause. Then a voice answered.
"Hello?"
Elena forced her voice to break. "I need to talk to Vincent."
A beat of silence. "Who is this?"
"Elena." Her voice cracked. "Tell him I'm done. I want out. I'll give him what he wants."
The line went dead.
She sat in silence afterward, pulse hammering in her throat.
The bait had been cast.
Now they waited.
Hours passed with no response.
Back at the estate, Lucien leaned over Darius's shoulder as he monitored the surveillance feed from the apartment.
"She's been sitting there too long," Lucien muttered.
"She's doing fine," Camille said. "You need to trust her."
Lucien's jaw clenched. Trust. That was the hardest part. Not because he doubted Elena, but because the stakes were too damn high. If something happened to her, he'd never forgive himself.
Then suddenly—movement.
The door to the apartment creaked open.
Elena stood up instantly, her breath caught in her throat.
A tall figure entered—hooded, masked, cautious.
"Don't scream," the man said.
Elena lifted her hands. "I'm not."
The man lowered the hood just enough to reveal himself. Not Vincent—but someone she recognized. One of Vincent's former bodyguards. A brute named Lance.
"Vincent sent me," he said. "He wants proof."
"Proof?"
"That you're not lying."
Elena reached into her coat pocket and pulled out a USB drive. "There. Everything he wanted. Contracts. Emails. Lucien's account passwords."
Lance narrowed his eyes. "Why now?"
"Because I'm tired," she whispered. "He never wanted me. I was just a trophy wife to make his board happy. I'm nothing to him."
Lance smirked. "That's what Vincent thought you'd say."
He grabbed the USB and turned to leave.
"Wait—" Elena called. "Tell him I want protection. I'm not going to betray Lucien unless I get something in return."
Lance nodded once. "You'll hear from us soon."
And just like that, he vanished into the night.
The trap had been set.
Now all they had to do was wait for Vincent to bite.
The next day, Lucien received an encrypted message through his private line. No name. Just coordinates and a time.
Midnight.
A rooftop.
Alone.
He knew it was from Vincent. And he knew it was a test.
"He's calling me out," Lucien muttered.
Darius looked grim. "It could be a setup."
"It is a setup," Lucien replied. "But it's also an opportunity."
"To end this?" Camille asked.
Lucien didn't answer. He just looked at Elena, who stood silently by the doorway.
"Don't go," she whispered.
"I have to."
"No, you don't," she said, stepping forward. "We have enough now. You could hand this to the authorities."
"And give him time to disappear again? You know what he's capable of, Elena."
She clenched her fists. "Then let me go with you."
Lucien shook his head. "No. If something happens to me—"
"Don't say that," she snapped, eyes suddenly filled with tears. "Don't talk like you're walking into your grave."
"I'm not." He reached out, cupping her cheek. "I'm going to end this—for you. For us."
At midnight, Lucien stood on the rooftop, the wind tearing through his coat, his silhouette sharp against the city lights.
Footsteps approached from behind.
Vincent emerged from the shadows, dressed in black, a smug grin on his face.
"You're braver than I thought," Vincent said. "Or dumber."
"I'm here to end this," Lucien replied.
Vincent laughed. "You think you can? You're already losing. Your company's bleeding from the inside. Investors are pulling out. And your dear Elena? She's closer to me than you think."
"You're delusional," Lucien snapped. "She's never going back to you."
Vincent smirked. "Is that what she told you?"
Lucien's jaw tightened, but he didn't rise to the bait.
"I'm giving you one chance, Vincent. Leave the country. Disappear. Or I swear to God, I will bury you."
Vincent's eyes glittered with madness. "You don't get to threaten me. I'm the one in control."
But what Vincent didn't realize was that a sniper was watching him from an adjacent rooftop.
Darius's voice echoed in Lucien's earpiece. "He's clean. No gun. Want me to take him down?"
"Not yet," Lucien murmured.
Vincent took a step forward. "You should've killed me when you had the chance, Lucien. Because now, I'm going to take everything you love—and watch you burn."
Lucien didn't flinch.
But inside, something dark and primal surged to the surface.
He took one slow step forward and said, "You made one mistake."
"Oh?"
"You underestimated the woman you tried to break."
Vincent froze.
Lucien added coldly, "She's not your pawn anymore. She's the reason you'll lose."
Then, in the distance, the sound of sirens split the night.
Vincent's eyes widened as police vehicles poured into the street below, surrounding the building.
"You bastard!" he snarled.
Lucien gave him a cold smile. "Checkmate."