Chapter 5

Three days. Whoever had written that message had thrown down an ultimatum, and now the countdown was on loud enough to drown out everything else. I slept very little that night. Each creak in the walls, each buzz from my phone seemed to make me jump because someone was standing just behind me, watching and waiting.

The following morning, I entered the estate with eyes wide open. No longer merely a planner. No longer playing nice. I had proof now—a file titled Vanessa, a forged signature, and the knowledge that something much more sinister was percolating beneath this wedding.

But I still didn't know what was on that flash drive Aarav took.

He stood waiting for me by the east terrace, where the florists were constructing mockups for the centerpieces on the tables. He did not smile when he spotted me.

"We need to talk," I said, pushing past a pyre of hydrangeas.

He nodded, glancing around the room. "Not here."

We ducked into the greenhouse—the one spot not plugged into the teeth with surveillance.

"I was in Selene's study last night," I admitted.

His jaw clenched. "Claire hired you to do that?"

"I discovered the file on Vanessa. Someone forged her signature. And I saw you. You stole something."

He didn't deny it. He produced the flash drive from his coat pocket and kept it suspended between us.

"This contains security footage," he said quietly. "Months' worth. Some of it from cameras even Selene doesn't have set up."

"You installed secret cameras?"

"I didn't. My dad did, years ago. I stumbled upon the archive by accident. Then I began to save them. There are clips… things that Selene did. Said. People she bribed. I was going to give it to an attorney if things got bad."

My heart raced. "Then let's use it."

Aarav turned away. "It also has pictures of me. With her. The agreements I entered into. The things I allowed to happen. It incriminates me, Rhea. I'm not as innocent in all this."

"So what? You sit on it? Allow her to ruin lives because you're afraid of what emerges?"

He didn't reply.

"You came to me," I said. "You made me think you wanted out. That you wanted something real. And now you're taking it back again?"

Aarav's face contorted, a flash of anguish cutting through his beautifully constructed facade. "I want out. But every door comes with a cost."

"Then choose one. Or I will."

---

Actualizar

I ran into Claire later at a bakery off Lexington. She'd picked it for its absence of Wi-Fi and notoriety for burnt croissants. Safe, she'd said.

I passed the flash drive to her.

"He surrendered it?"

"No. I took it."

Claire whistled. "You're bolder than I thought."

"What do we do with it?"

She opened her laptop and started downloading the files. "We get it backed up. Then we find the ones that matter—the ones that reveal what happened to Vanessa. What Selene did. We take it to Marcus Reed."

As the files downloaded, we sat and watched one clip together.

Selene, sitting by herself in her study, whispering on the phone.

"No, she has no idea. The old planner? She stole the money. Just keep her quiet. Or dead."

Claire shot me a look. "That's enough for Reed."

But not enough for me.

I needed to know what became of Vanessa. If she was still alive. If she left or was pushed.

So that evening, I traced the path from the letter I discovered. The transfer. The address.

It took me to a town two hours outside the city. A residential area. A cottage with green shutters.

I rang the doorbell, half-hoping no one would answer.

But it did.

And there she was.

Vanessa.

She looked at me like a specter. I said my name, what I do. And I said what I discovered.

Vanessa opened the door to me.

"They paid me off," she replied, her voice flat. "After I caught Selene and Dev. I was going to inform Aarav. But Marcus arrived. Not Aarav—Selene's father. He made it quite obvious that my choices were to leave discreetly or vanish entirely."

"And you left."

"Barely. They made me think I had a say, but it was exile. They forged my signature, diverted the payment. I couldn't lay hands on it. I've been living off scraps ever since."

"You need to come forward."

She laughed, a harsh, bitter sound. "You think anyone would believe me now?"

"I have the file. The recording. The proof."

Vanessa gazed at me, something smoldering in her eyes. "I say we burn them down."

---

The following day, I met with Marcus Reed in a dim office over a hardware store. He listened. He viewed the clips. He read the papers.

"This is enough to open an investigation," he said at last.

"She's still going to hurt you," I said. "The messages. The threats. Someone's stalking me."

"We'll assign someone to watch out for you," he promised. "You're not on your own in this."

For the first time in weeks, I believed it.

But Selene wasn't going out quietly.

That evening, I discovered my car was vandalized. Tires slit. Red paint across the windshield:

TICK TOCK.

The game wasn't over.

Not yet.