Elara's POV
The Winters Estate looks like something from a horror movie—all shadows and Gothic architecture, lit by security lights that turn everything sinister.
"This is suicide," I say as Cain parks two blocks away.
"Probably." He checks his gun, face carved from stone. "Stay behind me. If shooting starts, you run."
"Not a chance."
"Elara—"
"We save Sage and Lily together, or we die together. Stop trying to be the hero alone."
He looks at me for a long moment, then nods. "Together."
We approach through the gardens, using shadows for cover. Security cameras everywhere—but Nate's supposedly hacking them remotely, giving us a thirty-second window.
"Twenty seconds," Cain whispers, checking his watch.
My heart pounds so hard I'm sure everyone can hear it.
"Ten seconds."
I grip the tire iron I brought—not much against guns, but it's something.
"Now."
We sprint across the open lawn, exposed and vulnerable. Every second feels like an hour. Any moment, I expect bullets, alarms, guards—
We reach the side entrance. Cain picks the lock in five seconds flat.
"Where did you learn that?" I whisper.
"Misspent youth." He eases the door open. "Stay close."
Inside, the estate is dark and silent. Too silent. My childhood home feels like a stranger's house now—cold, hostile, full of ghosts.
We move through the hallway toward the ballroom, where Marcus's text said to meet.
"It's too quiet," I whisper. "Where are the guards? The staff?"
"Sent away." Cain's jaw is tight. "They want witnesses gone."
Because they're planning murder.
The ballroom doors stand open. Light spills out, and I hear voices.
Patricia: "—should have killed her years ago with her mother."
Marcus: "We still can. Make it look like Ashford lost control, murdered his wife in a jealous rage, then killed himself. Perfect tragedy."
Vivienne: "What about the girl? Sage?"
Patricia: "Collateral damage. Happens all the time."
Rage floods through me so pure and white-hot that I start forward.
Cain grabs my wrist. "Wait," he mouths. "Plan."
But I'm done with plans. Done with being smart. Done with these monsters deciding who lives and dies.
I wrench free and walk into the ballroom.
"Hello, Patricia."
The room freezes.
Patricia stands by the fireplace, gun in hand. Marcus and Vivienne flank her. And tied to chairs in the center—Sage and Lily, gagged but alive, terror in their eyes.
"Elara." Patricia smiles. "Right on time. Where's your husband?"
"Right here." Cain steps in behind me, gun raised. "Let them go."
"Or what?" Marcus pulls his own gun. "You'll shoot us? In front of witnesses?"
"They're not witnesses," Cain says calmly. "They're victims you kidnapped. But sure, let's talk legality while you're holding innocent people at gunpoint."
"Drop your weapon," Patricia orders. "Or I kill the purple-haired one first."
She presses her gun to Sage's temple. Sage's eyes are huge, pleading.
Cain's jaw clenches. Slowly, he lowers his gun.
"Kick it over," Marcus says.
Cain does.
We're unarmed now. Trapped. This was always how it would end.
"Finally," Patricia says. "Do you know how long I've waited for this? Thirteen years of cleaning up loose ends. Your mother, Elara—so righteous, so determined to 'do the right thing.' She found evidence of our pharmaceutical fraud. Instead of joining us, profiting with us, she threatened exposure."
"So you killed her," I say quietly.
"Victor did." She's so casual about it. "Cut her brake lines. Simple, effective. We thought that was the end."
"But she'd already passed the evidence to someone else," Cain says. "To me."
Patricia's smile fades. "Your mother was smarter than we gave her credit for. She found the crash site, took the flash drive from the wreckage. Then she spent years sending you anonymous packages. We didn't connect her to it until after she was dead."
"And by then, Eleanor knew," I say. "My grandmother figured it out."
"Eleanor was going to ruin everything." Patricia's voice hardens. "Threatening to expose us, to give Elara the company, to turn us all in. So we helped her along with her heart condition. A little medication adjustment, and—"
"You murdered her too," I whisper.
"We solved a problem." Patricia shrugs. "Now we're solving two more. You and Ashford."
"You won't get away with this," Cain says.
"We already have. For thirteen years. For decades." Marcus steps closer. "You think you're so smart, Ashford? We've been ten steps ahead this whole time. That evidence you collected? We have judges, police, politicians—everyone who matters—in our pocket."
"Not everyone," Nate's voice says from behind them.
They spin around.
Nate stands in the doorway with six FBI agents, all with guns drawn.
"FBI," the lead agent says. "Drop your weapons. You're all under arrest."
For one frozen second, nobody moves.
Then Patricia laughs. "You think the FBI scares us? We own them too."
The lead agent smiles. "Actually, ma'am, you owned Agent Peters. Who's currently under investigation for corruption. I'm Agent Rodriguez, and I don't take bribes."
The color drains from Patricia's face.
Marcus swings his gun toward Sage. "Nobody moves or—"
Cain tackles him. They crash to the floor, fighting for the gun.
Everything explodes into chaos.
Patricia runs for the side exit. Vivienne screams. The FBI agents rush forward.
I run to Sage and Lily, yanking off their gags, fumbling with the ropes.
"Get down!" someone shouts.
A gunshot rings out.
Time stops.
I look up and see Cain on the ground, blood spreading across his white shirt.
Marcus stands over him, gun smoking, eyes wild.
"NO!" The scream tears out of me.
I launch myself at Marcus, tire iron swinging. It connects with his wrist—crack—his gun flies away.
An FBI agent tackles him before he can move.
I drop beside Cain, hands shaking, pressing against the wound. Blood everywhere. So much blood.
"Don't you dare die," I sob. "Don't you dare leave me now."
His gray eyes find mine. "Elara—"
"Save your strength. Help is coming. You're going to be fine."
"Listen—" He coughs, blood on his lips. "The evidence. In my office safe. Code is your birthday. Everything you need—"
"Stop talking like you're dying!"
"I love you." His hand finds mine, bloody and weak. "Should have said it sooner. Every day. I love—"
His eyes close.
"Cain!" I shake him. "Cain, wake up!"
Paramedics rush in, pushing me aside. They work on him—compression, oxygen, medical words I don't understand.
"We're losing him," one says.
"No." I grab Cain's hand. "You don't get to leave me. We had a deal. One year, remember? It's only been one month. You owe me eleven more."
They load him onto a stretcher, rushing him out.
I try to follow, but an FBI agent stops me. "Ma'am, we need your statement—"
"My husband is dying!"
"I understand, but—"
"Let her go," Agent Rodriguez says. "Get her statement at the hospital."
I run after the ambulance, Sage and Nate behind me.
At the hospital, they won't let me into surgery. I pace the waiting room, Cain's blood still on my hands, replaying every moment.
This is my fault. If I hadn't walked into that ballroom. If I'd been smarter, faster—
"He's going to be fine," Sage says, hugging me. "Cain's too stubborn to die."
But hours pass. Three hours. Four.
Finally, a surgeon emerges.
"Mrs. Ashford?"
I stand on shaking legs. "Is he—"
"Alive. The bullet missed his heart by two centimeters. He's lost a lot of blood, but he's stable. Lucky man."
I collapse into a chair, relief flooding through me.
"Can I see him?"
"He's unconscious. But yes. Room 304."
I run.
Cain lies in the hospital bed, pale as death, tubes and wires everywhere. But his chest rises and falls. He's breathing. He's alive.
I take his hand, pressing my forehead to it. "You scared me," I whisper. "Don't ever do that again."
His fingers twitch. His eyes flutter open—just a crack.
"Elara?"
"I'm here."
"Did we... win?"
"They're all arrested. Patricia, Marcus, Vivienne—all of them. It's over."
He smiles slightly. "Good."
"You told me you loved me," I say. "Did you mean it?"
"Every word." His voice is rough but certain. "Loved you for three years. Married you because I couldn't let you go. Fake marriage became real the moment I saw you."
Tears stream down my face. "I love you too. So much. And when you're better, I'm going to kill you for getting shot."
He laughs weakly. "Deal."
His eyes close again, but his hand stays in mine.
I sit there watching him breathe, counting every heartbeat, thanking whoever's listening that he survived.
My phone buzzes. A text from Nate: "You need to see this. NOW."
A link to a news article:
"BREAKING: Chen and Winters Families Arrested in Massive Conspiracy. But Sources Say There's a Fifth Player—The Real Mastermind Behind Decades of Crime."
My blood goes cold.
I click the article. Read the first line.
"Anonymous sources within the FBI indicate that while Patricia Winters, Marcus Chen, and Richard Winters have been arrested, investigators believe someone else has been pulling the strings all along—someone with access to all the families, someone trusted. Someone still free."
Someone still free.
I look at Cain, unconscious and vulnerable.
If the real mastermind is still out there—
My phone rings. Unknown number.
I answer. "Hello?"
"Hello, Elara." A woman's voice, cultured and familiar. "I'm so glad Cain survived. I'd hate for my favorite grandson to die before finishing our game."
Grandson?
"Who is this?"
"You can call me Victoria. Cain's grandmother. The woman who's been running both the Ashford and Winters families for forty years. The woman who ordered your mother's death. And the woman who's about to teach you both a lesson about crossing me."
The line goes dead.
I stare at my phone, ice flooding my veins.
Cain's grandmother. The woman he said was dead.
She's alive. She's the mastermind. And she's coming for us