Through the mansion’s library windows, the morning sun spilt long beams, revealing a swirl of dust motes fluttering near the shelves. Celeste stood at the ornate desk, frowning at a thick file with trembling fingers. Caspian stood behind him, tension wheeling off his taut frame. They had found out, much to their shock, a basic flaw in their marriage papers: the official documents had never been fully signed because of a subtle bureaucratic glitch — possibly orchestrated by Soren.
“So, our marriage is… in limbo?” Caspian asked quietly, his voice infected with worry. “Yes,” Celeste said, riffling through the pages. “We’re not completely legal as husband and wife. And if we can’t fix this —” She paused, remembering the razor-thin line that delineated Caspian’s rightful place at Hayes Enterprises. Under the original terms of inheritance, a valid marriage validated by a certain deadline is required or forfeiture of executive powers.
He rubbed a hand through his hair, leaving overtiredness visible in his dark-ringed eyes. “Soren’s sabotage,” he said under his breath. “One more piece to his infinite puzzle to decimate us.” She shut the file, her heart racing. “We need to refile the documents. Now, before the court hearing or some new scheme compels an annulment.” There was urgency in her tone, spurring him forward. He brushed the pile of corporate ledgers away, vowing to protect Celeste and his precarious inheritance from Soren’s talons.
As soon as they stepped back into the mansion’s grand hall, Talia came up with news that the registrar was in town, willing to make an emergency appointment, which was just what they needed. A flicker of relief crossed Celeste’s face, although fear ate at her: Soren hardly ever overlooked anything. They scrambled to collect their personal papers and phone calls, prompting notaries to hurriedly show up. Caspian gestured for a driver, his heart racing.
Just as they were about to leave, a panting attendant came running up, panic twisting his face. “The registrar was intercepted half away here, Soren,” he said, detailing how the official’s car had been suddenly diverted to an unscheduled halt. Celeste’s stomach twisted. She sees Caspian’s jaw tighten. This was classic Soren—wary and wily. “We’ll go ourselves,” Caspian said, adrenaline spiking. “We are going to go hunt down the registrar in person.”
Snatching coats and keys, they raced into the estate’s driveway. The engine roared, bouncing off impossibly high stone walls as they tore away, their desperation propelling them second after second. Celeste’s pulse raced at the thought of Soren crafting some last-minute legal web that could cut her off from Caspian forever. Outside, the sun beat bitterly high over the estate’s manicured lawns, but her thoughts brimmed with dread. They were one step ahead of Soren’s interference, and if that was disrupted, they risked losing not just the legitimacy of their marriage but Caspian’s tenuous claim to the empire he’d fought so hard to save.
The sky brought nightfall to the mansion’s twisting hallways, a stillness settling into its grand rooms. Talia padded quietly, and above us, the lights were dimmed to a low, gold glow. She cupped a small device in her hand, and her heart pounded in her ears. Soren had cornered her earlier, icy and breathy, making her plant a listening bug in Celeste’s quarters. She’d generally agreed, although her stomach roiled with guilt. Serving Soren had become a twisted burden, but denying him was not a chance she could afford to take.
Celeste’s bedroom door was ajar, and a lamp inside was on, spilling its warm circle onto the carpet. Talia crept inside, scanning the peaceful room. A travel bag resting on a low armchair, clothes folded in a way that would allow for a quick exit, if necessary. It came an almost soothing hush from the pastel wallpaper and the barely there lavender scent. Talia’s heart raced as she remembered her father’s threat: If she didn’t comply, she would be sorry.
She knelt by a tall dresser and quickly taped the little listening device underneath. The device emitted a single “beep” and then fell quiet, flashing a single green light. She let out a breathy sigh, her mission almost accomplished. She got to her feet, turned to go — and froze at the quiet click of the door. Valentina entered, freezing, when she saw Talia in the half-dark room. Talia’s stomach dropped. She pressed herself against the dresser, shielding the device.
“Talia?” Valentina said gently, her brow furrowing. “What are you doing here?” There was kindness in her tone but also curiosity. Talia attempted a shaky smile, hoping her face revealed no panic. “I was… searching for some files Celeste borrowed,” she lied, her voice shaking. “I don’t know where she put them.” Her heart pounded so hard she thought Valentina could hear it.
Valentina nodded slowly, her eyes scanning the room. She did not seem persuaded, looking around at the mess of personal items: a half-drunk glass of water on the nightstand, an open notepad scribbled with notes on legal proceedings. The hush thickened when she stepped one step closer. “Strange,” she murmured. “I just saw Celeste downstairs. She never mentioned files.”
Talia repressed a cringe, enraged by the tide of adrenaline humming between her temples. Stumbling for composure, she shrugged and wore an earnest half-smile as she waved a hand loosely. “Maybe she forgot. She’s under a lot of heat.” She moved over and inched toward the door with deliberate insouciance. Valentina’s eyes remained on a stray throw pillow at the base of the dresser. Her expression flickered with a slight frown. Realizing Valentina suspected something was wrong, Talia lowered her head. “I’ll ask Celeste in the morning,” she said, voice thin.
With a grip on the doorknob, she scurried into the hallway, nerves still quaking. Valentina trailed behind her, shuffling into shadow by the dresser. There was something in the air alerting Talia that her intrusion could not have gone unnoticed. Even in her escape, the weight of Valentina’s faint suspicion was stifling, foreshadowing yet another touch of conflict between them all at the behest of Soren’s ruthless control.
The next afternoon, Roman texted Celeste one address — a low-key café in a less-frequented part of the city. Low-hanging clouds threatened rain when she slipped inside and scanned the small number of patrons absorbed in newspapers or quiet conversation. At a corner booth, Roman raised a hand in salute. The tightness in his gaze was the same as hers. When she finally sat down across from him, the café’s silence enveloped them like a cloak.
There was the faint aroma of fresh coffee in the air. Roman slid a folder along the small wooden table. “I discovered further information about Soren’s offshore financial activities,” he said, voice measured. Celeste took a breath, remembering that every eruption since had pulled her in further. Still, she perused the pages, holding her breath to see Sterling Price’s name. “He’s directly involved?” she said, the surprise mixed with dread. She had known that Sterling had played a duplicitous role, but this new evidence created a solid connection: transfers from Soren’s shell corporations directly into accounts linked to Sterling.
Roman nodded. “They have a relationship that goes beyond sabotage of Caspian. This is a different animal — perhaps an effort to use the whole company as a springboard for them personally.” He sighed, adding sugar to his espresso with agitated motions. “If we can show that Soren funnelled money through Sterling, that’s the nail in the coffin that they both gamed the board.”
Celeste set the folder down on the table, a million thoughts racing in her mind. “We don’t have time,” she said softly. “Between Soren fucking around with the court date and trying to void my marriage, he’s two steps ahead. She remembered how close they had come recently to catastrophe, with the registrar — Soren’s trick to prevent them from properly refiling their marriage. The empire hung off a rickety edge every second.
Roman nodded solemnly. “We have to act now. Show them up before they bury the money trains.” He sighed, a battle-weary soldier in this corporate war. “But Soren and Sterling are slick enough to contort anything we give, making the narrative more chaotic.”
A light drizzle started outside the window, tapping on the glass. Celeste took a sip of her coffee, tension knotting her stomach. She imagines Caspian still battling his own demons at Hayes Enterprises, Talia placing herself in harm’s way, working to undermine Soren from the inside. “We’re not alone,” she said softly, to reassure herself more than Roman. “There’s Talia fighting from one side, Valentina from another. With proper coordination, Soren’s empire of blackmail and deception could come crashing down.”
A shadow moved across the rain-specked glass. Roman froze when he saw a figure in a hooded jacket, a camera pointed right at them, standing across the street. In one flash, then the outline slipped into the crowd. A pang of discomfort fluttered in Celeste’s chest. They were under no illusions that Soren’s spies, or Sterling’s, awaited at every turn. But they’d gone too far to turn back now. She snapped the folder closed, locking her eyes with Roman in stony determination. “Let’s finish this.”