The video player opened a small, grainy window on the screen.
It looked like cell phone footage, filmed vertically and slightly shaky, as if the person holding the camera was hiding. The audio hissed with static before voices cut through.
I recognized the room immediately. It was Julian's study downstairs.
Two men stood in the center of the frame. One was Julian. He looked younger, less tired, but his posture was rigid with tension. The other man was Lucas Sterling. He was handsome in a golden, effortless way, but his face was twisted in anger.
"It has to stop, Julian," Lucas said. His voice was clear, vibrating with intensity. "You cannot keep paying him. It's bleeding the company dry."
"I don't have a choice," Julian replied, his voice low. He ran a hand through his hair, a gesture of pure frustration. "He has the manifests, Luke. He has the emails proving we knew the navigation systems were faulty before the ships left port. If that gets out, Thorne Shipping is finished. We go to prison."
"So we let Silas own us?" Lucas shouted, slamming a hand onto the desk. "We let a glorified fixer dictate the future of our legacy? No. I'm done."
I froze. Silas.
Lucas wasn't talking about a rival CEO. He was talking about my handler.
"What are you going to do?" Julian asked, his voice turning dangerous. "Don't be stupid, Lucas."
"I'm going to the authorities," Lucas said, straightening his jacket. "I'm going to confess everything. The faulty ships, the cover-up, the payoffs. I'd rather face a judge than let that parasite take another cent from us."
"You can't," Julian said. He stepped forward, grabbing Lucas by the shoulders. "Think about Elena. Think about the scandal."
Lucas laughed, a bitter, sharp sound. "Elena? You think I care about protecting her reputation? She's the one who introduced us to Silas in the first place, Julian! She's the reason we're in this mess!"
My jaw dropped.
Elena knew Silas? Elena introduced them?
"She made a mistake," Julian said, his grip tightening.
"She made a deal with the devil," Lucas spat. He shoved Julian's hands off. "I'm going to the police, Julian. Tonight. And if you try to stop me..."
"I won't let you destroy this family," Julian warned.
"Then you better kill me," Lucas said. "Because that's the only way I'm staying quiet."
Lucas turned and stormed out of the frame. The camera shook violently, as if the person filming had flinched.
Then, the camera turned.
For a split second, the reflection in the window behind the desk was visible. I saw the person holding the phone.
It was Elena.
She wasn't hiding. She was standing right there in the corner, holding the phone up, recording the argument with a cold, detached expression. She wasn't scared. She was gathering evidence.
The video cut to black.
I sat back in the chair, my heart pounding so hard it hurt.
The narrative had just shifted on its axis.
Lucas wasn't killed because of a love affair. He wasn't killed because he was sleeping with Elena.
He was killed because he was going to expose Silas. He was going to go to the police and blow the whistle on the entire blackmail operation.
And the next day, he was dead.
"Oh my god," I whispered.
Did Silas kill Julian?
Or at the very least, Silas orchestrated the crash to silence him. And Julian... Julian had covered it up. Not to save himself, but to save the company from the secrets Lucas was threatening to spill.
This is killing me.
And Elena? She was recording it. Was she working with Silas? Or was she planning to use that video to blackmail Julian herself?
I looked over at the bed. Julian was still unconscious, his arm hanging off the side of the mattress.
He wasn't the villain. He was a victim. A rich, morally corrupt victim, perhaps, but a victim nonetheless. He was being squeezed by Silas on one side and his own wife on the other.
And now, Silas had sent me a clueless lookalike into the house to make sure the merger went through. Because if the merger failed, there would be no more money to steal.
I was working for the bad guy.
I didn't sleep.
I spent the rest of the night scrubbing the laptop of my fingerprints and putting everything back exactly where I found it. I put the USB drive back in the safe, wiped the keypad, and returned the shoes to their boxes.
When the first grey light of dawn filtered through the curtains, I was sitting in the armchair by the window, fully dressed, watching Julian.
He stirred around six. He groaned, rolling onto his back, and shielded his eyes from the light.
"Water," he croaked.
I stood up and poured a glass from the carafe on the nightstand. I walked over to the bed and held it out.
Julian sat up slowly, wincing. He looked terrible. His hair was a mess, his eyes were bloodshot, and he still wore yesterday's clothes. He took the glass from me, his fingers brushing mine. His skin was cold.
He drank the water in one long gulp and handed the glass back.
"What time is it?" he asked, his voice rough.
"Six-fifteen," I said.
He looked around the room, confused. His gaze landed on the broken glass by the wall. A flicker of memory crossed his face, followed by a wave of shame.
"I..." He rubbed his temples. "I apologize. I drank too much."
"You did," I said. "You passed out on the floor. I put you on the bed."
He looked at me then, really looked at me. He seemed surprised that I had helped him. "Why?"
"Because you're heavy," I said simply. "And because Mrs. Graves would have had a field day if she found the master of the house sleeping on the rug."
Julian let out a short, dry laugh. "True."
That was the first time i hersd him laugh, it was beautiful.
He swung his legs off the bed and stood up. He swayed for a second, catching his balance, then straightened his spine. In an instant, the vulnerable man from last night was gone, replaced by the CEO.
V
"We have the board dinner tonight," he said, buttoning his crumpled shirt. "It's at the Pierre. Seven o'clock. Wear something... intimidating."
"Intimidating," I repeated. "Got it."
"And Elena?" He paused at the door, his hand on the knob. He didn't look back at me. "About last night. What I said about Lucas."
My heart skipped a beat. "Yes?"
"Forget it," he said. "It was just the whiskey talking."
He walked out.