The silence inside the estate had shifted. It wasn't the comforting quiet of home—it was a tension, a hush that pressed in on Elena like a weight.
Every creak of the floor, every flicker of a light, every soft shuffle of movement—she noticed them all now.
Because someone had taken a photo of Lucien sleeping.
Inside their bedroom.
No one outside could have done that.
The betrayal had to be within.
Camille was the first to act. The entire estate was swept—top to bottom. All surveillance systems were rechecked, security staff were interrogated, and every service entry and blind spot was cataloged.
But the problem wasn't a lack of cameras.
The problem was that nothing showed anything.
No sign of forced entry. No footage of someone sneaking in. Nothing that explained how someone had slipped past a fortress designed by Blake Industries' own internal security division.
That was the most frightening part.
They weren't missing something.
Someone had deliberately erased it.
"Elena," Camille said gravely, late that evening. "We're not looking for an outsider anymore. This is someone who knows the systems from the inside. They're using admin-level clearance."
Elena felt the air leave her lungs. "You're saying it's someone who works for us."
Camille nodded. "And that narrows it down to about thirty people."
Elena's mind went instantly to names. Drivers. Maids. Gardeners. Lucien's aides. Hers.
Even—God forbid—someone on Camille's elite team.
The thought sent a shiver down her spine.
"We need to be careful," Camille continued. "If they know we're onto them, they'll cover their tracks. I need you to act like nothing's wrong."
Elena nodded, but her mind was already racing.
She had trusted this house. This life. These people.
Now she couldn't trust anyone.
Lucien arrived home late that night, the tension in his shoulders visible even from across the room. Elena stood from the couch as he entered, and for once, they didn't speak right away.
They just looked at each other.
"You didn't sleep," he said softly.
"You didn't either."
He crossed the room and pulled her into his arms. For a long moment, neither of them moved. Elena buried her face in his chest and breathed him in—cologne, rain, warmth.
"Lucien…" she murmured. "What if the enemy's already inside?"
He didn't answer at first.
When he did, his voice was cold. Hard. "Then I'll burn the whole place down to find them."
"No," she said quickly, pulling back to meet his eyes. "We do this smart. No rash decisions. That's what they want. Chaos. Distrust. We can't give them that."
Lucien studied her for a long moment. "You're not the woman I married."
She froze.
He smiled faintly. "You're stronger now."
Her heart gave a painful twist. "I wish I could say the same about you."
His brows lifted.
"You're always carrying so much weight," she whispered. "You never let anyone see it. But I see it, Lucien. And I want to help you carry it."
Lucien exhaled slowly. "If I let you in too far… it'll destroy you."
Elena stepped closer. "Then let it destroy me. If it means we're in it together."
Something flickered in his eyes—like light catching a crack in stone. He pulled her in again, kissed the top of her head, and held her like she was the only thing tethering him to the ground.
The next day, Elena returned to Blake Industries alone. Lucien had to fly to Shanghai for a sudden investor meeting, and Camille had other surveillance operations to coordinate.
That left Elena in the lion's den.
Project Horizon was in its final phase. She was due to present a full internal report within ten days. And the deeper she dug, the more she realized something was off—not just with Vincent Arcland's accounts, but in the digital infrastructure of the company itself.
Files were missing.
Timestamps didn't match.
Someone had been covering their tracks long before Vincent was caught.
It wasn't just sabotage.
It was strategy.
Elena requested access to a level of records only Lucien and a few board members could view. Surprisingly, her access was granted within the hour.
But the moment she opened the restricted database, her office lights flickered.
The screen went black.
She stared, confused—then a single line of text appeared in red.
You're not ready to know the truth.
Her blood ran cold.
She reached for her phone—but it was already dead.
"Camille," she whispered.
Before she could do anything, a soft knock sounded on her office door.
"Elena?"
She flinched, but it was only Jeremy—the young intern from legal.
"I brought the employee reports you asked for," he said, holding a file.
She opened the door, forcing calm into her voice. "Thanks. Just set them on the desk."
He hesitated. "Are you okay? You look pale."
"I'm fine," she lied.
As he left, she closed the door and took a deep breath.
Whoever sent that message… was inside the system.
And they were watching her.
Back at the estate that night, Camille returned with a scowl.
"I traced the system breach," she said. "Someone used Lucien's personal credentials to grant you access—then wiped your digital footprint the moment you logged in."
Elena's jaw clenched. "They want me to stop looking."
"They're trying to rattle you," Camille said. "It means you're getting close."
"But what if they come for Lucien next?" Elena asked. "What if this has been about him all along?"
Camille's eyes darkened. "Then we tighten the net."
Three nights later, Elena woke suddenly.
Not from a nightmare.
From a sound.
A whisper of movement outside her bedroom.
She sat up slowly.
The hallway light was off.
She reached for the panic button by the bed—installed just last week—but something stopped her.
A silhouette passed the bedroom door.
Not fast.
Not sneaky.
Like it wanted to be seen.
She rose slowly and opened the door just a crack.
The hallway was empty.
But on the floor, right outside the threshold, lay a single object.
A flash drive.
Wrapped in a black ribbon.