Semua Bab One Night with My Ex-Fiancé’s Ruthless Brother: Bab 81 - Bab 90

(Keyla POV) I hadn't even reached the reception desk before the receptionist smiled. "Ms. Tamara." She glanced up from her monitor, recognized me immediately, and smiled with the polished warmth of someone who'd been told exactly who to expect. My visitor badge was already waiting beside her keyboard. She slid it across the counter before I had to ask for it. The black lanyard matched everyone else's. Only the words TEMPORARY CONSULTANT stood out, printed just large enough to make sure nobody missed them. I slipped the lanyard over my head, squared my shoulders, and finally let myself take in the lobby. Churchill Sentinel Tower was sixty floors of glass and structural steel with a lobby designed to communicate the specific message that everything happening inside it was either classified, expensive, or both. Security cameras at four angles. Biometric entry past the reception desk. A wall of monitored screens showing geographic distribution maps that I recognized as risk-assessment

(Keyla POV) I uncapped the marker and crossed to the whiteboard without saying anything. Every pair of eyes in the room followed me as I wrote the first word, then the second, then the third. *Child. Will. Wedding.* I capped the marker, turned back toward the table, and let the room sit with the three words before I said anything. Everyone I needed was already there. Draxler sat where he always did, at the center of the table. Marcus occupied the seat beside him, while the board members, PR team, and Eleanor's outside communications consultants filled the remaining chairs. I recognized all of them. I only intended to remember a few.I tapped the board lightly with the marker. "These aren't three separate problems." My gaze moved around the table. "They're three parts of the same crisis." "You've been treating them as though they can be solved one at a time." I shook my head. "They can't. They're all moving together." "That's why every response so far has fallen flat." I rested the

(Keyla POV) The email was dated eleven-forty-three p.m. on the night of the wedding. I looked at the timestamp twice, heart thudding heavier. The wedding had started at six. The reception had been running at eleven. At eleven-forty-three, I was somewhere in the Aurelia Grand, in a corridor I hadn't planned to be in, holding a keycard I hadn't meant to pick up. The email had been sent before I'd disappeared. Before I'd run. Before there was anything to manage, except the very specific thing that someone had already decided would need managing. I kept reading, fingers gripping the mouse a little too tight. The draft was labeled *FINAL v2*, which meant there had been a v1. The language was clean, practiced — the kind of writing that came from someone who had done this before, who understood how narrative traveled through the specific ecosystem of society journalism and what phrases made the journey fastest. *Emotional fragility.* *Pre-existing instability.* *Concern from family frien

(Kyla POV) Leo looked at Draxler, crayon still in his hand. His eyes moved from the velvet pouch to Draxler. “Why does Mom have your treasure?” Silence settled over the room almost instantly. The kind that arrived without warning, when a child asked the one question every adult had been quietly avoiding. I stayed where I was. The velvet pouch still rested on the meeting table within Leo's reach. Draxler remained in the doorway. Behind him, the Churchill Sentinel emblem caught the afternoon light. Leo had looked at the emblem, then at the pouch......and connected them all on his own. Before I could think of an answer, Draxler spoke. He didn't rush the words. "I lost something a long time ago. His voice stayed calm, almost careful. "I think it ended up with your mom." Leo tipped his head to one side, thinking it through in complete silence before asking So..." He frowned thoughtfully. "She found it?" A faint smile touched Draxler's face. "Something like that." He never looked aw

(Keyla POV) I walked into Eleanor's office without sitting down. She was at her desk when I came in — not surprised. Someone had warned her the audit was getting close. I filed that away without letting it show. I noted that. She set the silver letter opener aside with unhurried precision. It looked old enough to have lived on that desk for decades. Then she met my eyes with the calm confidence of someone who'd spent years ending difficult conversations from that chair. The faintest smile touched her lips. "I wondered when you'd come." "The executive override." I placed the printout on her desk, the login report with the credential traced back to her office. "I'm not going to explain how we traced it." I kept my voice even. "You've had enough time to hear that from someone else." I rested my fingertips on the report. "What I want to know...is what you're willing to tell me." She looked at the printout. Barely a glance. Just enough to confirm she'd seen it before. She leane