Location: The corridor leading to the Grand Cabinet – Salon des Nobles
Time: After Bella's meeting with Queen Charlene
The corridor was luxurious, bathed in a majestic calm, with crystal chandeliers hanging from the ceiling like they belonged in a celestial hall.
Renier stood leaning against the wall, while Amélie sat on a gilded chair, casually flipping a rare pack of gum she had stolen from Bella's bag.
Renier (glancing at the door):
"She's late… Do you think they're training her on royal protocol?"
Amélie (with a childlike yawn):
"Or maybe… they already married her off and we just don't know it yet."
Before he could answer, the door creaked open slowly.
Bella stepped out.
Her wavy hair had lost some of its usual volume, and her face…
The face of someone who had just walked out of a political battle inside an aristocratic war tent.
She walked slowly, as if dragging her own shadow behind her, eyes half-closed—as if her mind was still trapped inside.
Amélie (rising anxiously):
"Bella? What happened? Did the Queen refuse?"
Renier (rushing forward):
"Did she say no to extending the stay by five days?"
Bella (in a quiet voice as she approached):
"She agreed."
Amélie (raising a brow):
"Then… why does your face look like you just tasted the flavor of rejection?"
Renier (nervously):
"Did she reject the compensation we offered? Cultural support? The symbolic donation?"
Bella (sighing deeply):
"No, she didn't refuse the compensation… She rejected the idea of compensation itself."
Amélie (shocked):
"Whaaaat?! Then how did she agree?!"
Bella stopped in front of them and gave a weary smile—
The kind of smile that resembles a sigh from a mind freshly crushed inside a royal chamber of secrets.
Bella (in a whisper):
"Wait… You'll understand in a moment."
Then she began to recount what had happened inside the room…
---
Inside the Grand Cabinet – Salon des Nobles – moments earlier:
Queen Charlene was laughing—no, cackling.
A real laugh, deep from the chest, the kind that made the surrounding women exchange puzzled glances.
Bella (in her mind, stunned):
"Did I say something funny? No… all I did was request an extension to my visit. Did my request turn into a comedy show without me knowing?"
The ladies-in-waiting and a few noblewomen began glancing at each other suspiciously… while others looked at Bella as if to say:
"You poor soul… or maybe lucky? Who knows."
Once the Queen calmed down, she wiped a tear from her eye and spoke with a soft smile:
Queen Charlene:
"My dear Bella… I swear, if anyone else had asked me that, I would've said no immediately.
But you? I could extend your visit for two months if you wish."
Bella (smiling politely):
"I'm truly grateful, Your Majesty… but I'd like to offer a small token of thanks. A cultural collaboration between my brand and the royal heritage foundation—"
The Queen (waving her hand dismissively):
"Oh, no formalities, please. I want a personal token… something different."
Bella (her eyes widening silently inside):
"No. Don't say what I think you're about to say… please don't…"
The Queen (smiling with aristocratic mischief):
"I want you to marry my son, Prince Adrian the Third."
Bella (internally screaming):
"She said it… why doesn't life have a pause button?!"
Outwardly, Bella smiled gently, as if nothing had happened.
Bella:
"Your Majesty… unfortunately, I'm still married to Amory, as you know."
Inside her, annoyed:
"And that idiot still refuses to sign the divorce."
The Queen (in a warm tone that hid deeper motives):
"Oh yes… I'd nearly forgotten about that man.
But no matter—time changes everything, and I… Well, I'm naturally patient."
Then the Queen gently took Bella's hand and said in a sweet, coaxing voice:
The Queen:
"Why don't we start with something simple?
A cup of tea—just the two of us.
And perhaps, if you don't mind… I'll invite Adrian to join us."
Bella (thinking when she smiling nervously):
"If there's a ring in that teacup… I swear I'll swallow it on purpose."
The Queen laughed, and Bella politely excused herself. She kept a graceful smile on her face,
but inside… a soft funeral march was playing.
---
Outside the Room – Back to the Present:
Bella (after finishing the story):
"…And that's how I walked out of there.
My body's fine… but my soul is bleeding."
Amélie (placing a hand over her mouth in shock):
"The Queen… wants you as her daughter-in-law? Seriously?"
Renier (trying to stifle a laugh):
"I can already picture your face when she said that."
Bella (waving her hand dismissively):
"Enough! What matters now is that we got the five days without any financial or partnership deal."
Amélie (teasingly):
"Let's just hope that tea doesn't come with an engagement ring."
Bella (in a theatrical voice):
"And if it does… I'll choke on it with zero regrets."
Renier (in a calm tone):
"But politically… it's a good thing she likes you."
Bella (sighing with a smile):
"If only it were just love… without royal intentions."
Then she looked away, down the long corridor—
as if bracing herself for the next round of the game.
•••
Bella stood in the center of the corridor like a velvet war commander.
She wore an elegant, professional suit in dark brown—a high-cut tailored trouser paired with a short blazer embroidered with her brand's logo in fine golden stitching.
Her hair was pulled back in a half-updo, and her low-heeled shoes gleamed under the light like a decisive intention.
Bella (in a calm yet piercing voice):
"The plan remains unchanged. We're hunting corrupt nobles—not my shoe that went missing at last night's party."
Amélie, dressed in a black suit with a soft-collared ivory shirt, sighed and lazily raised an eyebrow:
"Yeah, but you did basically turn the palace upside down looking for that shoe."
Bella (averting her gaze):
"Minor details."
She turned to Renier, who wore a black military-style guard suit, a slim tie, and a small communication device in his ear.
Bella:
"Renier, you're heading to the Jardin de l'Orangerie and the western grounds—Parterre du Nord too.
If they're going to talk without being heard… it'll be there."
Renier (bowing):
"Understood. If I don't return within the hour… they probably lured me out and got rid of me."
Bella (winking):
"If you don't come back, I'm taking all the chocolate you hid under your bed."
Renier (shocked):
"You know where it is?!"
Bella (smirking confidently):
"I'm Bella, darling. No secret escapes me."
She turned to Amélie, whose hard heels sounded like they were designed to terrorize marble floors.
Bella:
"Amélie, you'll head to the Hall of Mirrors, then swing by the Salon de Diane, and check the Royal Chapel as well.
Vain nobles love echoes—it matches their long tongues."
Amélie (gloomily):
"And here I was hoping for a day off."
Bella:
"Justice comes first."
Amélie (muttering):
"Justice and aching heels."
Bella (lightly tapping her chest):
"I'll search the eastern wing—Salon de Mars and the Galerie des Batailles.
They might be hiding there, whispering between portraits of dead kings…
maybe seeking villainous inspiration."
•••
Amélie entered the Hall of Mirrors, her heels echoing like anxious heartbeats.
She passed by an elderly couple talking about their granddaughter and paused briefly when she heard:
"Oh, he's talking to a strange man."
But she quickly realized they were referring to the woman's new son-in-law.
Amélie (speaking softly into her earpiece):
"False alarm—just another episode of family drama."
She continued walking and paused beside a crystal column.
Opening her small notepad, she scribbled:
> Never trust a room with more than 5 mirrors at once.
---
Bella was walking through the Salon de Mars, passing beneath massive wall paintings.
Her heels made a faint but firm sound—like a teacher pacing between students during an exam.
Bella (thinking to herself):
"This is a battlefield… and these formal heels are my true enemy."
She stopped in front of a painting of the Battle of Rocroi and stared at it.
Bella (whispering sarcastically):
"I'm fighting too…
Just in a war full of liars and fake family trees."
---
Renier moved swiftly through the Jardin de l'Orangerie.
The orange trees were so dense, it felt like a maze.
Using the reflection on his sunglasses, he scanned the corners without drawing attention.
He passed by the Fountain of Latona, pretending to check his phone.
Then he heard a broken laugh.
Two men were sitting nearby—
Both dressed in suits too smooth to be innocent.
One of them was smoking nervously; the other leaned in to whisper something and then looked around.
Renier (quietly into the earpiece):
"Got them. Two men sitting near the Bosquet de la Colonnade.
Speaking in low voices… one of them looked around twice—
which you only do if someone's watching you…
or if you forgot where you put your wallet."
•••
The two men sat beneath the shade of the old marble arches, speaking in hushed tones as if they were discussing a top-secret economic crisis—
when in reality… they were plotting ways to manipulate a few royal tenders.
Suddenly, Bella appeared from around the corner, walking lightly, wearing a smile perfectly crafted for job interviews.
She wore her signature dark brown professional suit, holding a half-empty juice cup—completing her performance as the "charmingly spontaneous girl."
Bella (in a light, casually surprised voice):
"Oh—sorry… I thought the spot was empty. But the weather here is so much nicer than the other gardens, isn't it?"
First Man (round-bellied, slightly cheerful):
"Not at all, m'lady, please… Beauty graces the place, and the place suits beauty."
Bella (letting out a soft, fake laugh):
"A poet, are you? I haven't heard a compliment phrased like that since 2004."
Second Man (tall, with that kind of fake-intellectual vibe):
"Seems luck is with us today… Not every day do we meet such a familiar face in this palace."
Bella (with expertly crafted innocence):
"Oh? You know me?"
The round man:
"Who doesn't know you, Miss Bella? We met last night, didn't we? Everyone's talking about you here… the young noblewoman with the brilliant brand. My niece forced me to buy your lip balm weeks before it even launched."
Bella (laughs, without a trace of pride):
"Oh, so you clicked buy? Apologies for the price—I was testing the market's pain tolerance."
The tall one (leaning forward):
"My name is Edmond de Valéry, Deputy Financial Advisor on the High Council… and a lover of camellia flowers."
The round one (rubbing his mustache with pride):
"And I'm Gérard Loufran, Head of the Logistics and Supplies Committee. Fifty years of savvy… and four kilos of sheer greatness."
Bella (feigning awe):
"Oh—statesmen! What an honor… Though I didn't expect to find men of such rank hiding in a flower garden.
Aren't you worried about pollen allergies?"
Edmond (laughing):
"We're only allergic to taxes, m'lady."
Bella (laughing with them, but thinking internally):
> ("And I'm allergic to your stupidity… You're like a heap of ugliness in the middle of beauty.")
As the two men went on about some dinner party held last week in the Salle des Croisades, Bella subtly pulled out her phone, acting like she was checking a notification.
She opened her contacts and tapped: "Renier – Secure Line."
The call rang twice, then disconnected.
Three seconds later… Renier called back.
She picked up and answered in a cheerful tone:
Bella (cheerfully):
"Oh, darling! Sorry… I'm just with Mr. Gérard Loufran and Mr. Edmond de Valéry at the moment.
Yes, yes… those two. A lovely coincidence.
No no, everything's fine… I'll talk to you later."
Renier's voice, on the other end (in cold military calm):
"Names recorded. Watch the time."
Bella (hanging up sweetly):
"Ah, forgive me, a close friend… the clingy kind who can't survive five minutes without a 'Where are you?' message."
Gérard (jokingly):
"Lucky friend."
Bella (laughing):
"If I were him, I'd send me flowers every day instead of phone calls."
She rested the juice cup on her lap and resumed the conversation with the two men, smiling:
Bella:
"Now, tell me… is the food at Salon de Venus still as bad as it was last year? Or have they finally upgraded?"
The men laughed, and the evening of "covert surveillance dressed as polite conversation" began.
And inside Bella's mind, she was recording every glance, every word, every detail…
> (Two marks... now I just need to bring them down.)
•••
Location: Guest Bedroom Wing – Upper Floor, Palace of Versailles
Time: Afternoon, during Bella's meeting with the two men in the garden
The silence in the hallway was unbearable.
Amélie walked with extreme caution, as if the floor itself feared making a sound beneath her.
Her short-heeled shoes touched the ground with calculated lightness. In her hand, a black silk glove. In her eyes—
the resolve of a woman who wasn't born to be a guest, but a shadow trailing behind every danger.
📞 A soft chime in her discreet earpiece, followed by Renier's low, professional whisper:
Renier:
"Amélie, both rooms are in the south wing. Room 34 belongs to Gérard Loufran, and 36 to Edmond de Valéry. Three doors apart."
Amélie (barely above a breath):
"Copy. Give me a minute per room."
---
✨ Room 34 – Gérard Loufran
She pushed the door open slowly, already knowing it wasn't locked—
These fools really believed respect alone could protect them.
She stepped inside…
A faint smell of tobacco. An old-fashioned rug.
A vintage wooden desk…
Lots of papers, but mostly standard financial reports.
She carefully opened one of the drawers—
Suddenly, a soft click of metal.
A gun, precisely placed in a velvet-lined box.
Amélie (thinking):
> (An unregistered firearm… suspicious, but not enough. Bella won't build her plan on guesses.)
She put everything back exactly as it was—same angle, same position.
Checked the floor—nothing.
Peeked behind the painting—empty.
She exited the way she came, leaving behind only air in her wake.
---
✨ Room 36 – Edmond de Valéry
This time, her tension was higher.
Again, the door wasn't locked—
as if the room was expecting her.
Her heartbeat was slow and steady, just like Renier trained her.
The room was neater… colder.
As if its owner didn't live there—he hid there.
She opened the wardrobe:
Nothing out of place.
Then the desk.
Top drawer: travel papers, tickets, a small booklet.
Second drawer:
There it was.
A photograph—Edmond standing beside three other men, all in formal suits.
One of them was circled in red pen.
Beside the photo, a folded note, written in elegant handwriting:
> "It's happening Saturday night. Enter through the back cellar, the food will be our cover.
Guards won't notice."
She gently set the paper aside and looked up.
On the top shelf… another weapon.
A small Walther PPK—not a hunting gun,
but the kind that makes things look like accidents.
Amélie (to herself):
> (Two out of two carrying firearms… and at least one is planning something. That's enough to say: countdown has begun.)
She put everything back—meticulously, like sterilizing a crime scene.
Snapped a silent, flashless photo using a special miniature phone.
I'm excited.
Closed the door behind her.
And breathed for the first time in two minutes.
🎧 In her ear, Renier's voice returned:
Renier:
"Amélie?"
Amélie (in a whisper):
"One confirmed target. We've found a piece of the thread.
See you at Point C."
•••
Location: Gardens of the Palace of Versailles – Bosquet de la Colonnade
Time: Post-afternoon; the breeze gently stroked the trees, and birds sang as if nothing was being plotted in the shadows.
The scene looked perfectly normal...
Bella sat on the stone bench beside the two noblemen.
One of them, Gérard, was proudly talking about his real estate company.
The other, Edmond, chimed in with weighty comments—like bad seasoning in an otherwise fine dish.
Bella (with a fake but flawless laugh):
"Oh, so that conference was in Geneva? My God… the way you both speak French with foreign accents—and you're both French! Truly impressive."
Gérard (puffing his chest a little):
"The international environment has its effects, m'lady… and maybe a bit of whiskey, too."
Edmond (with the smooth laugh of a confident man):
"I know you're married, but honestly, anyone could mistake you for being much younger."
Bella (with charming cheer):
"Oh, thank you."
(She laughs softly, while internally thinking:)
> "If I laugh any more, I'll need therapy to recover my voice from this ridiculous giggling."
Suddenly, her phone rang.
A familiar tone… one only they would recognize.
📞 Incoming call: Renier
Bella picked up the phone with deliberate grace, speaking with feigned concern:
Bella:
"Oh, excuse me, gentlemen… it's my friend Amélie. Must be something important."
She answered in a calm voice:
Bella:
"Yes, Amélie?"
Renier (on the other end, in a neutral tone):
"It's done. Amélie succeeded. We need you immediately at the agreed point."
Bella (slightly louder – acting):
"What?! You're there now? Oh, you got lost? No worries, I'll come right away."
Then she turned to the two men, flashing a gentle smile:
Bella:
"Forgive me, gentlemen. Amélie got lost in the green maze—you know how that garden is… it makes poets and missing persons."
Gérard (rising with a smile):
"It was an honor speaking with you, Miss Leclair."
Edmond (nodding politely):
"I hope we meet again. Perhaps… at tonight's dinner party?"
Bella (with a killer smile):
"Of course. If I'm not dead from laughter before then."
She waved and walked away.
Each step a perfect blend of an actress's elegance and a secret agent's precision.
And as soon as she turned her back on them, her expression dropped.
Bella (muttering to herself):
"I deserve an Oscar. Or at least a box of chocolates."
•••
Location: Bella's Bedroom – Her private suite on the upper floor of the Palace of Versailles
Time: Thursday evening, just after sunset.
The golden lamps cast soft shadows over the lavish furniture, and the heavy curtains muffled the wind's mournful howl.
The room was quiet—but inside it… minds were racing.
It felt like a mini intelligence briefing—
All that was missing was a giant red map and code phrases like "Operation Shadow" or "Green Tea Protocol."
The three of them sat around a small table by the window.
Renier had placed a box of apple juice on the table. He opened it but didn't drink—just something to keep his nerves in check.
Amélie leaned back, flipping the phone she'd used to document her findings.
And Bella? She was staring at them with steady focus—radiating the presence of a commander planning a high-risk operation.
Bella (in a low tone):
"So… Now we know their rooms, and we broke in without leaving a trace.
All that's left is the phone number.
Once I have it, Phase Two begins."
Amélie (leaning forward and angling her phone):
"Look. In Edmond's room, I found these photos."
She placed the phone on the table—the screen showed an old-looking photograph.
Edmond was standing in the middle, with three men on his right.
One of them… had a clear red circle drawn around him.
Like a sniper mark.
Renier (leaning closer):
"He's clearly being targeted. But why? And who is he?"
Amélie (swiping to the next image):
"And this is the note I found folded underneath the photo."
> "It'll happen Saturday night. Entry through the back cellar, the food will be our cover.
The guards won't notice."
Bella (muttering, thoughtful tone):
"Saturday night… and today is Thursday. That's the day after tomorrow.
Right after the Grand Dinner event. Smart timing—everyone will be drunk on opulence."
Renier (looking at the note):
"And the back cellar? You think they mean the old wooden tunnel that leads from the north wing?"
Bella (nods):
"Exactly. It was mentioned in the palace restoration records.
People forgot about it, but clearly someone remembered."
Amélie (moving the photo between her fingers, staring at the marked man's face):
"…Wait."
She suddenly went quiet.
Her eyes froze on the man's face.
Amélie (slowly, like her memory was buffering):
"I know this person. I met him at the banquet earlier this week.
He was sitting next to an official representative… I think he was a diplomat."
Bella (leaning forward, serious):
"When exactly? What was he doing?"
Amélie (closing her eyes, replaying the memory):
"He was speaking in a low voice… spent most of the evening watching the crowd.
And when our eyes met… he smiled.
But not a normal smile—it was the smile of someone who knows more than he lets on."
Renier (interlocking his fingers):
"He could be a spy… or… a target for elimination."
Bella (calmly and firmly):
"Either way… Saturday isn't far.
We need to figure out who he is—and whether he's the intended victim… or part of the scheme."
The room fell silent.
The kind of silence that clings like battlefield smoke—
Even the breeze through the window didn't dare interrupt.
Bella (very quietly, with a faint smile):
"Tomorrow… Phase Two begins."
•••
Time: Thursday evening – 10:17 PM
Place: Bella's bedroom. The lighting is dim, curtains drawn, and the glow from the laptop screen illuminates the three faces in silence.
It was getting close to 10:30, but none of them even considered sleep.
Bella sat at her desk, wearing light reading glasses, her laptop open in front of her.
Renier sat on the sofa, jotting down small notes in a leather-bound notebook.
Amélie was sprawled on the floor, her head resting on a pile of pillows, studying the captured photo.
Bella (quietly, professionally):
"Alright… We've got a photo of a man circled in red.
We need his full name, his position, connections, and where he'll be Saturday night.
Amélie, what else do you remember?"
Amélie (frowning):
"When he sat at the banquet, one of the guards whispered something into a diplomat's ear a few minutes after he arrived.
I think he was part of one of the delegations… German or Italian. They were at the same table."
Bella (typing quickly):
"Then we start with the delegations present this week. We look into every unfamiliar face at the head table.
Renier, pull up the official guest list from the first royal banquet. They must have documented every guest in the event photos."
Renier (getting up and grabbing his tablet):
"Give me a sec… I've got a digital copy of the royal press archive."
Amélie (holding up the photo):
"His face still gives me chills. He only smiled when he saw me watching him."
Bella (with a cold smile):
"Which likely means he knows exactly when eyes are on him. That alone proves he's trained."
---
Seven minutes later…
Renier (raising his device):
"Got it. Table 4, Saturday's banquet.
The German delegation—five men. One of them is wearing that same dark gray suit… wait… Here he is!"
He zoomed in and moved closer to where Bella was sitting.
Bella (examining the screen):
"That's him… no doubt about it."
Amélie (looking over the screen):
"His name?"
Renier (reading softly):
"Count Alexander Waldenberg.
Economic expert and diplomatic advisor at the Joint European Agency.
I arrived from Berlin last Friday evening, left Sunday morning, and returned yesterday.
Current residence… the south wing of the royal palace."
Bella (leaning forward, scanning a line of data):
"Not just an advisor then… He's a connector. The brain behind money and power affairs… and now, at risk."
Amélie (in a whisper):
"So… Edmond and his buddy are planning to get rid of him?"
Renier (shaking his head slowly):
"Or maybe… he is the real target.
And everything else? Just smoke."
---
Silence. Then Bella exhaled and quietly closed her laptop.
She stood up and buttoned her blazer, one button at a time.
Bella (calm, confident tone):
"We have the truth… but only half of it.
Let's assume he's the target.
We need to warn him… without revealing ourselves.
And if he's not… then we need to know why his face was the one circled."
Amélie (rising slowly):
"You mean…?"
Bella (heading to her file cabinet):
"I mean… tomorrow, we're going to visit him… by coincidence."
Renier (with dry sarcasm):
"A coincidence planned down to the flower arrangements?"
Bella (smiling without turning around):
"Always.
And if Alexander is innocent… we'll find out who's setting him up.
If he's not… then we'll play his game to the very end."
---
Time: Thursday – 11:12 PM
Location: Marble staircase linking the East Wing to Versailles' Upper Hall
Lighting: Soft, from grand crystal chandeliers reflecting gently on the pristine floor
The staircase was completely empty, the only sound was the steady, deliberate click of women's heels.
Bella led the group. She wore an elegant ivory suit, her hair styled in a simple, classic half-updo.
Amélie walked beside her, in a gray blazer with fine white stripes, a fitted white blouse, and gray pants in the same pattern, paired with medium-heeled shoes in a matching shade.
Renier followed behind them, dressed in a black suit, completely silent, his eyes scanning around like a walking security scanner.
Then suddenly… slow footsteps approached from above.
A tall man began descending. His expression calm, eyes half-lidded like he'd just stepped out of a dream… or a strategy.
Count Alexander Waldenberg.
Wearing a dark gray cashmere suit, a burgundy tie, and a soft scarf tucked behind the collar of his coat.
When he saw them, he paused… then smiled.
A smile like he'd known them for years.
Alexander (in a light, polite tone):
"Oh… I didn't expect to see anyone awake at this hour."
Amélie (smiling calmly):
"And I suppose you were hoping to be alone."
Alexander (descending one step slowly):
"Three people at this time? I'm not sure if this is a chance encounter… or a plan."
Bella (calmly and directly):
"At least our plan is out in the open… not behind closed doors."
Alexander (looking at her, smiling faintly):
"Is that a proverb… or a veiled warning?"
Bella (meeting his gaze):
"Depends how you interpret it."
Amélie (touching the railing, eyes playful):
"Personally, I prefer places not found on the map."
Alexander (chuckling softly):
"If I ever meet you there, I'll know I'm either in trouble… or in for a fun adventure."
Amélie (with a direct look, a hint of challenge):
"Some adventures start with a single piece of information… and that's enough to start a war."
Alexander (pausing, then replying with a faint smile):
"Or to end one… if the intentions are sincere."
Renier still stood silently at the edge of the staircase, unmoving—but his eyes missed nothing.
Bella watched quietly, leaning on the railing.
She wasn't just focused on the words, but the subtle details:
How he spoke.
How he shifted his tone.
How he looked at others.
That eerie steadiness in his eyes…
Inside, she thought:
> "This man… shows no intention. No worry, no tension.
It's like he's used to living in uncertainty."
She raised her head and said:
Bella:
"Speaking with you… feels like reading an old detective novel.
Mysterious, but deliberately so."
Alexander:
"I just hope… I'm not the villain in it."
Amélie:
"That depends on the author."
Bella:
"And on whoever's been watching the story since page one."
A distant bell chimed, breaking the moment.
Everyone turned instinctively toward the sound—as if it had been a silent signal.
Alexander (glancing at his watch):
"I believe conversation time is over. Now comes sleep… or pretending to sleep."
Bella:
"Let's hope it's a quiet night."
Alexander (with a mysterious smile):
"For you as well."
Then he bowed slightly:
"Ladies… and Mr. Guardian."
He ascended the stairs calmly, each step carrying him further away…
but the echo of his words lingered, like something still unsaid.
Amélie (in a whisper):
"He knows."
Bella (even softer):
"And so do we… now we're starting to understand."
•••
Time: Friday – 9:00 AM
Place: Bella's bedroom
Lighting: The Parisian sun gently brushes the edges of the curtains, and the coffee on the table still steams with warmth.
The room was quiet, yet inside… minds were whirring.
It felt less like tension, more like a luxurious beehive humming in silence.
Bella sat on the couch, her hair neatly tied back. One hand held her coffee cup, the other a novel notebook.
Amélie was perched on the edge of the table, her feet swinging lightly, waving a red pen in front of her eyes, pretending to think.
Renier stood near the window holding his tablet—but truthfully, his eyes were on Bella.
Amélie (with a soft laugh):
"So where do we start? His looks? Or that eerie calm that makes you wonder if he even breathes?"
Bella (sips her coffee, then calmly places the cup down):
"He knows that we know."
Renier (in a low voice):
"I agree. He was watching your expressions the entire time. Even your reactions… he read them."
Amélie:
"And still, he didn't flinch. He didn't dodge the coded remarks, didn't even pretend confusion and ask 'What do you mean?'"
Bella (looking at her notebook, reading softly):
"He's a man who knows how to read intent. He understands that meaning isn't just in the words… but in how and when they're said."
Renier (calmly):
"If he belonged to an organization… he'd be intelligent. The kind who sits across from you at lunch and reads you better than the menu."
Amélie (murmuring as she looks at the ceiling):
"So in other words… smart. But is he with us… or against us?"
Bella (after a brief silence):
"So far… nothing is certain. He doesn't fully know who we are, or where we stand. That's why… he hasn't shown any aggressive intent."
Renier (scrolling his screen):
"Alexander Waldenberg, born in Leipzig. Public record looks clean, but his sudden appearance three years ago in the top economic forums—without any clear political or diplomatic background? Suspicious."
Amélie (winking at Bella):
"So, does it mean something? Or is it just a shiny coincidence?"
Bella (with a half-smile):
"Oh, it means something. His entire presence is suspect…
As for us? Even if someone tried to uncover us—
Not even sunlight would reveal the truth."
Amélie (laughs):
"Now that's a strong morning philosophy… I like it."
Renier (checking his device):
"We need to make sure everything's ready for tomorrow night… Saturday, the gala.
If we're right, he'll be the target."
Bella (quietly closes her notebook):
"And that's why… it's time for our next step."
Amélie (curious):
"Unmasking him?"
Bella:
"No.
The step where all threads come together.
We need the numbers of the two men… and we need to place Alexander directly in the spotlight.
Whoever tries to dim that light… becomes our primary suspect."
Renier (smirking sideways):
"See? We've got a lot of work ahead."
Bella (rising, heading toward her closet):
"And no time to waste."
Amélie:
"So, what's the plan now?"
Bella (opening the closet door):
"Getting ready for the morning garden gathering.
Some members of the court will be there.
Perfect setting for a casual… calculated appearance."
Amélie (teasingly):
"But this time… no cryptic metaphors, please.
I think the poor man's had enough."
Bella (with a cryptic tone):
"On the contrary.
We'll give them even more…
Just enough to get everyone talking—
Without us asking a single question."
To be continued…
If you've made it this far… either you love the story or you're just lost somewhere on the internet.
Either way?
Hit that like button, you beautiful disaster—I mean, superstar 😎✨
I'm gonna go breathe a little now 🤮