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The First Word

Author: Phylicia Ines
last update Last Updated: 2025-10-01 09:15:32

The hours after surgery folded into one another, stitched together by the steady beep of machines and the slow drip of IVs. The storm outside had not lifted; the windows still trembled under the push of wind, gray light seeping through blinds into the recovery ward.

Wren had been given a box of supplies by Ms Pei—crayons worn to nubs, a stack of recycled paper, a roll of medical tape that stuck to everything but its target. She’d taken to the project with fierce concentration, her tongue caught between her teeth as she bent over the table.

Liora watched her from the chair beside Varian’s bed, exhausted yet unable to close her eyes. She had stayed through every minute of his stillness, every flicker of the monitors. Now she watched her daughter, trying not to think of the way her heart had nearly torn itself apart when the bullet struck him.

“What are you making?” she asked softly, brushing Wren’s hair out of her face.

“A card.” Wren held it up, proud despite the shaky crayon lines. Th
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  • Blood Ties And Silk Chains   The Handler in the Gray Coat

    The city was a living machine when Bram went out. Its gears turned in the rumble of traffic, the hiss of buses, the distant wail of sirens; its pistons pumped in the steady flow of bodies down sidewalks. For Bram, surveillance wasn’t work so much as rhythm. He blended with the current, eyes always tracking, posture loose but watchful.The banker, Holt, followed his usual routine. Gray suit, blue tie, polished shoes. He walked with the kind of careful dignity that came from decades of being untouchable. His office downtown, his breakfast stop—a French café with perfect croissants and overpriced coffee—his noon meeting near the harbor club. Bram already had these notes from weeks past. Predictable men were easy to kill; the danger lay in the unpredictable shadows orbiting them.This morning, Holt wasn’t alone.Bram spotted the shadow at the café. A man in a gray coat, mid-forties, neatly trimmed beard, expression blank enough to read as either boredom or calculation. He didn’t sit near

  • Blood Ties And Silk Chains   The Banker’s Veil

    The penthouse felt smaller once the papers were spread across the table. Not from clutter—Varian tolerated none—but from the sheer density of what those papers carried. Numbers, routing codes, and signatures that had the weight of betrayal.Bram leaned over the table, thick fingers dragging down the edge of a printout. His jaw was locked so tightly that the vein at his temple pulsed.“Corsair Holdings again,” he muttered. “Every time I pull a thread, it runs through that name. And look here—these aren’t offshore shells. They’re legitimate investment vehicles, some tied directly to Kole’s own accounts.”Varian stood at the head of the table, arms crossed, gaze pinned on the stack of evidence. His posture looked deceptively still, but Liora—watching from the sofa where Wren colored quietly—could feel the coiled tension in him like a drawn bow.“He wasn’t lying,” Varian said at last, his voice low, almost dangerous in its calm. “Dane’s papers line up. My banker isn’t just compromised—he’

  • Blood Ties And Silk Chains   Terms of Amnesty

    The envelope felt heavier than its weight, as though the paper itself carried the gravity of a blade. Liora didn’t open it until she was back in the penthouse, doors locked, Wren asleep under a blanket of stars projected onto her ceiling. She spread the pages across the dining table, scanning the columns of numbers, the foreign bank stamps, the signatures that bore familiar names.At the bottom of the first page was a handwritten line: Meet again. You choose the place. Come alone, or not at all.Two nights later, she chose the place.It wasn’t another warehouse or alley. Liora selected the winter garden of an abandoned library, glass roof shattered, ivy curling around stone. Moonlight spilled through the jagged panes in pale ribbons. It was open enough that Bram and Ines could shadow from a distance, but intimate enough to feel like confession.Ciro Dane was already waiting. He stood with his back to the ruined fountain, coat collar turned up against the cold, face shadowed but unmist

  • Blood Ties And Silk Chains   The Queen’s Gambit

    The message arrived folded inside a delivery menu. Harmless on the surface, creased from a courier’s hand, its corners grease-smudged like any piece of throwaway paper. But Liora’s eyes caught the difference instantly: the handwritten note along the bottom margin, penned in blocky strokes that left no flourish to betray identity.For the queen. If she wants the truth, come hear it herself. Alone.No signature. No location spelled out in words, only coordinates scrawled in a short string of numbers. Enough for anyone with a compass and a search engine to find a forgotten stretch of the waterfront.Ciro Dane.She felt it in her bones.Ines was the first to read over her shoulder. Her reaction was clipped, immediate. “It’s bait.”“Of course it is,” Liora answered. Her own voice surprised her—steady, even calm.“Then burn it.”But Liora didn’t move toward the flame. She folded the note, slid it into her pocket. “No.”Ines’s eyes narrowed. “You can’t seriously be considering—”“He asked f

  • Blood Ties And Silk Chains   Smoke and Mirrors

    The press release went out just after dawn. It was written in the clipped, sterile cadence of corporate grief: We confirm the passing of Varian Kole following injuries sustained in an armed assault. Details are withheld out of respect for family. Funeral arrangements will be announced.The words shot through channels like a current. Reporters scrambled, syndicates whispered, enemies exhaled a dangerous kind of relief.And in the penthouse safehouse, Liora sat frozen at the table, the announcement glowing on her tablet screen.“You’re telling the world he’s dead.”Across from her, Ines stood as calm as if she’d simply ordered breakfast. “Correction. I’m telling the world what they need to believe. It will pull the rot to the surface.”“Rot?” Liora asked, though she already knew.“The ones waiting to carve up what he built,” Ines replied smoothly. “The doubters, the opportunists, the traitors. They’ll show themselves now that they think the king is gone.”Liora’s stomach turned. She gl

  • Blood Ties And Silk Chains   The First Word

    The hours after surgery folded into one another, stitched together by the steady beep of machines and the slow drip of IVs. The storm outside had not lifted; the windows still trembled under the push of wind, gray light seeping through blinds into the recovery ward.Wren had been given a box of supplies by Ms Pei—crayons worn to nubs, a stack of recycled paper, a roll of medical tape that stuck to everything but its target. She’d taken to the project with fierce concentration, her tongue caught between her teeth as she bent over the table.Liora watched her from the chair beside Varian’s bed, exhausted yet unable to close her eyes. She had stayed through every minute of his stillness, every flicker of the monitors. Now she watched her daughter, trying not to think of the way her heart had nearly torn itself apart when the bullet struck him.“What are you making?” she asked softly, brushing Wren’s hair out of her face.“A card.” Wren held it up, proud despite the shaky crayon lines. Th

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