It started with a reflection.
Lilith had just finished wiping down the café windows when she noticed movement in the glass. Subtle, almost nothing. A flicker at the edge of her vision. She turned, but the street outside was quiet. Empty, save for a man with a newspaper tucked under his arm and an elderly woman walking her dog.
Still, the feeling lingered.
Something about the angle. The timing. The way the man had stood just out of frame, like he hadn't wanted to be seen.
She chalked it up to nerves. Maybe even paranoia. After everything with Victor and the tension simmering beneath every encounter with Arnold, her mind was bound to start playing tricks.
But then it happened again. Two days later.
This time, she was inside, sweeping behind the counter before closing. She glanced up and caught the briefest glimpse of someone standing across the street. Not looking at the menu. Not checking their phone. Just… watching.
She stepped out front quickly, but whoever it was had already turned the corner and vanished.
That night, she didn't sleep.
—
Elsewhere in the city, Specter reviewed his footage.
The job had been quiet so far. Observation only. No contact. No risk.
But what he'd found was… interesting.
Arnold Blaze was meticulous, predictable in the way high-functioning minds often were. Arrivals timed to the minute. Schedules adhered to with military precision. His expressions never cracked. His voice rarely rose. Specter had followed senators, diplomats, and criminals who thought themselves kings, but Arnold was different. There was nothing erratic to exploit. No sloppiness. No addictions. No women in and out of penthouses. No paper trail of dirty secrets.
Just one variable.
Her.
Lilith.
He wasn't sure what she was to Arnold yet. A business curiosity? A mistress? A loose end? There was no physical contact, no lingering glances, but she showed up too often. In his calls. On his calendar. At his private dinners.
And she was hiding something, too. That much was obvious.
Specter zoomed in on a paused frame. Lilith wiping down the café window, unaware of the camera catching her profile through the glass. He jotted something in his notebook: paranoia increasing. Defensive posture. Possible past trauma?
He'd keep watching. Quietly. Carefully.
And if something presented itself… he'd be ready.
—
Arnold Blaze sat in his office, his attention divided.
The Sterling deal was heating up again. Victor had gone quiet—too quiet. And Arnold didn't trust silence from a man like that.
Lucas had sent over preliminary reports showing movement in Victor's camp. New legal counsel. Shifts in board voting power. Arnold knew a storm was coming. He just didn't know from which direction.
And then there was Lilith.
He stared at his phone, unread texts and missed calls blinking back at him like accusations. She hadn't answered his last message. Not directly, anyway. Her hesitation wasn't what bothered him—it was the delay.
Was she losing interest?
Was the proposal not compelling enough?
He wasn't a man used to being ignored. Especially not after he'd laid out terms so clearly.
Isabella's voice snapped him back.
"We have a problem," she said, stepping into the office unannounced.
Arnold glanced up. "Be specific."
She dropped a folder on his desk. "Victor Sterling is consolidating his overseas investors. He's trying to push the deal into arbitration."
Arnold opened the folder and scanned the contents. "He doesn't have grounds."
"He's trying to create some."
Arnold set the folder down and leaned back in his chair. "Let him. We'll be ready."
Isabella hesitated, then added, "And there's something else. I've been looking into Lilith Lane."
That caught his attention.
Slowly, he straightened. "Why?"
"Because you're distracted. And she's the only variable that's changed."
Arnold didn't respond.
Isabella crossed her arms. "I'm not saying she's a threat. But you don't know who she really is, Arnold. I've found discrepancies. Different aliases in the past. Gaps in employment. Ties to—" she paused, carefully—"less-than-reputable nonprofits."
He said nothing.
Isabella softened her voice. "I care about this company. And I care about you. If she's going to be involved—even just on the philanthropic front—you need to know what you're dealing with."
Arnold's fingers steepled under his chin. "And you think I don't?"
She flinched slightly at the coldness in his tone.
"I think," she said evenly, "you want her to be something she's not."
—
That same night, Lilith sat curled on her couch, phone clutched in her hand.
She hadn't told Athena about the man outside. Not yet. It sounded crazy. Like she was spiraling.
But something inside her whispered it was real.
Victor was moving. She could feel it.
And Arnold?
He was getting harder to read by the day. Cold. Distant. Like he'd shifted from curiosity to calculation. Like he was already weighing whether she was worth the risk.
She wanted to reach out. To say something. But what would she say?
"I think I'm being watched again. I think your deal might be more dangerous than you realize. I think I'm falling for someone who doesn't care if I live or disappear."
The phone buzzed.
A message from an unknown number.
"Don't trust him. He's not who you think he is."
Lilith's stomach dropped.
She stared at the message, her breath shallow.
Then she read it again.
And again.
And the shadows outside her window grew darker.