Zara stared at the photo again. Quentin’s lifeless body. A perfect scene. No struggle, no mess—just death polished for headlines.
Juliette had done this.
Zara’s stomach clenched. Not because she was afraid—she was past that—but because she finally understood the stakes. Juliette wasn’t unraveling. She was executing a plan.
And they were still playing checkers while she moved like a grandmaster.
Zara’s phone rang. Roman again.
“Tell me you’re still breathing,” he said when she answered.
“I need to talk to the DA. That file isn’t enough. We need more.”
“You’re not law enforcement.”
“No, but I’m the woman Juliette wants gone. That makes me the bait.”
Roman exhaled. “And Alec?”
“I don’t know where we stand,” she said honestly. “But if Juliette kills again, it won’t matter.”
⸻
Alec was already waiting when Zara entered the office. The Maddox board had tabled the vote—thanks to her. But Alec wasn’t celebrating.
He handed her a folder.
“What’s this?”
“My insurance policy. Everything Juliette
