Chapter 16 

The invitation arrived on Ivory cardstock, thick enough to slice skin.

The Halden Council Charity Gala: An Evening for Families and Futures.

Samira’s name was embossed at the bottom in gold script, all curves and elegance. The ink shimmered under the morning light like it was laughing.

I stared at it too long. My tea had gone cold beside me, untouched. There was something about the weight of the envelope, the formality of it, that felt more like a warning than a welcome.

Of course she would host it now. Of course it would be about families.

She didn’t want a quiet war.

She wanted a stage. One where she could be adored, and I could be humiliated—gracefully, publicly. A slow erosion masked by pleasantries.

Jonathan walked into the room, adjusting his cufflinks. His eyes never touched mine.

“We’re going,” he said.

A command, not a question.

I didn’t flinch. “I figured.”

He reached for his jacket. “It’ll look good for the family.”

I gave him the smile he expected—sweet, docile. The one I’d been trained to wear. “Anything for the family.”

He left without another glance.

But inside, I was already choosing my weapons.

---

The ballroom sparkled like a lie.

Crystal chandeliers spilled light onto velvet drapes. Laughter rang off marble floors. Waiters in black vests weaved through the crowd like ghosts with silver trays. Everything was curated. Everything was staged.

I walked in on Jonathan’s arm, a vision in black silk and deliberate grace. My heels were stilettos. My necklace sharp. Even my perfume was chosen to unsettle—amber and smoke. Not soft. Not forgettable.

Jayden was at home with the sitter.

This wasn’t a night for lullabies.

This was a night for war.

Samira stood at the entrance, draped in white like a saint. Her smile widened when she saw us. Her eyes skimmed over me slowly, calculating.

“You look radiant,” she said, voice dripping sweetness. “I’m glad you found something that fits.”

I let the insult settle. Then smiled.

“I had it tailored,” I said. “I don’t wear leftovers.”

She laughed, polite and tight. Her teeth didn’t quite touch.

Round one. Mine.

---

We took our seats. The table was round, polished, too close to hers. A statement.

I barely touched the wine in my glass. Too many ears, too many smiles that meant nothing.

The lights dimmed. A hush fell over the crowd.

Samira took the stage like she owned it. The spotlight hit her perfectly. Her movements were practiced—every hand gesture, every pause between phrases. She didn’t speak. She performed.

“Tonight is about legacy,” she began, her voice smooth. “About the strength it takes to protect our families. Especially now, when stability feels like a luxury.”

My fingers stayed light on the stem of my glass.

She looked at me. Smiled.

“Sometimes, what a child needs most is a mother who understands sacrifice. Who seeks help when she needs it. Who doesn’t hide from her past.”

Each word dropped like stones in water.

I didn’t blink.

Mental health. Early intervention. Fragile foundations.

She wrapped it all in benevolence, but the blade underneath was real. Sharp. Cruel.

The crowd clapped. Politely. Predictably.

So did I.

But when our eyes met, it was her smile that cracked first. Just slightly. Just enough.

I waited a beat longer than I needed to, then turned away.

---

The air outside was sharp against my skin.

I stepped into the garden, letting the wind steal the heat from my chest. The silence out here was different. Honest. Cold.

I didn’t hear her approach. But I felt her.

“You always preferred quiet,” Samira said behind me.

I turned slowly. She walked closer, her heels silent on the stone path. Her dress shimmered beneath the moonlight, flawless.

“You were always fragile, Maya,” she said softly. “I tried to warn Jonathan. But he believed in you.”

My voice was calm. “He didn’t believe in me. He believed in convenience. He’s just now realizing I’m not so convenient anymore.”

Her lips twitched. Not quite a smile.

“You should be careful,” she murmured. “Some memories don’t stay buried. Some records don’t stay sealed.”

There it was.

The threat.

The reminder that she had her claws in every system that could destroy me.

I didn’t flinch.

“I know,” I said. “Like the one from the clinic. Two years ago. Signed by Dr. Vellman—who, by the way, lost his license for falsified claims. Or maybe the retainer you sent to Cardin & Rue. Three weeks before you started calling me unstable.”

Her expression faltered.

Just for a heartbeat.

I let the silence stretch.

“I’m not guessing anymore,” I said. “I’m documenting.”

Samira's face hardened. “You’re digging.”

“I’m collecting,” I replied. “You’re used to burying evidence. I’ve learned how to exhume.”

There was a pause. Longer than it should’ve been.

Her voice dropped. “This doesn’t end well for you.”

“No,” I agreed, brushing past her, “it ends better.”

---

I didn’t say a word during the drive home.

Jonathan didn’t either.

The silence between us was full of teeth.

Jayden was already asleep when I peeked into his room. His chest rose and fell steadily, the soft sound of his breathing grounding me. The stuffed lion was still clutched tight in his arms. I tucked the blanket around him again, even though it didn’t need adjusting.

Upstairs, I changed. Black silk replaced by cotton. War paint wiped clean. But the sharpness stayed under my skin.

I sat on the edge of the bed and pulled out the burner phone.

A single message from Conan blinked back.

Conan: Got something. Bigger than I thought. Keep smiling. They’re scrambling.

I stared at it, letting the relief settle into my bones like a slow exhale. It wasn’t safety—but it was momentum.

The bedroom door creaked open.

Jonathan stepped in. Tie gone. Shirt sleeves rolled up. Calm on his face. Too calm.

He sat beside me, his thigh brushing mine.

“You know…” he began, voice casual, “you’ve really been shining lately.”

I didn’t move.

He turned his head slightly, eyes on me now. “You even had Samira speechless tonight.”

I still said nothing.

His voice dropped. “And that means she’s going to come at you harder. So I suggest you be very careful.”

He leaned in. Pressed a kiss to my temple.

And stood.

He left without another word. The door clicked shut behind him.

I stared at the closed door for a long moment.

And for the first time in a long time…

I smiled.

Not from hope.

From certainty.

Because he wasn’t wrong.

They should be afraid.

I was done playing their game.

Now, they were playing mine.