Chapter 101 The Game Has Begun

Chapter 101 The Game Has Begun

I walked with my arm hooked through Arthur's, my face set in a flawless smile that could survive a thousand cameras without a crack.

Arthur was silent, immovable—a wall of muscle and stone, absorbing the chaos without flinching. He didn't answer a single reporter, simply using his height and sheer presence to shield me from the crush of bodies, guiding me step by step toward the revolving door.

We looked like fugitives heading for a last supper. And that was exactly how I wanted it.

Every flash, every shouted question, every rabid journalist clawing for a headline—this was the fire I had lit myself.

The hotter the blaze, the better the show.

We were seconds from stepping into the revolving door when a voice cut through the noise.

A voice I could never mistake. Cold. Familiar. Precise enough to cut straight into my ear.

"Sophia!"

My feet locked in place.

It felt like my blood froze solid in my veins.

I turned stiffly, scanning the crowd.

On the edge of the swarm, beside a black SUV, stood a man in black tactical gear. He looked through the chaos directly at me.

Allen.

His face was expressionless. The eyes that had once held warmth and mercy were now stripped bare, cold as if staring at a corpse.

His lips moved silently.

I read them.

Game started.

My grip on Arthur's arm tightened until my nails bit into the expensive fabric of his suit.

He noticed. He lowered his head, those amber eyes steady even under the assault of flashing lights. He didn't speak, but his gaze asked the question.

I mouthed the name without sound. "Allen."

Arthur's jawline went hard.

The calm, protective aura he carried through the crowd shifted in an instant into something sharper—cold, violent intent.

He didn't look back at Allen. He wrapped his arm around my waist and pushed us through the door with a force that left no room for argument.

The thick glass turned, sealing us inside, cutting off the roar outside.

The restaurant was empty. Crystal chandeliers spilled warm light over polished tables. Classical music drifted through the air. Roses sat in vases, their petals still closed.

It was heaven inside. Hell outside.

"How is he here?" Arthur's voice broke the fragile calm.

I released his arm, walking to the floor-to-ceiling window, staring down at the vultures still circling below.

"He's not here to arrest us. He's here to declare war."

Game started. The words burned into my mind.

Allen wasn't speaking only to me.

He was speaking to both of us.

This was his way of telling us—telling me and Arthur—that he, an FBI agent, had officially joined the hunt.

"He's the one who called you?" Arthur moved behind me.

"No." I shook my head, thoughts racing. "His rank isn't high enough. He's more like..."

I paused, searching for the right word.

"...a blade."

A blade in someone else's hand. Razor sharp. Knew every weakness we had.

And the one holding that blade was the same shadow who had threatened me with my mother's life.

That was the real danger. An enemy hiding in the dark was one thing. An enemy with an FBI agent as a weapon was something else entirely. He could strike in daylight, under the full protection of the badge.

"I need my computer," I said, turning to Arthur. "And Lisa. Now."

Arthur didn't hesitate. He pulled out his phone and called Colin.

"Bring Ms. Davis's computer and her assistant to Skyline Terrace. Now."

He ended the call without another word.

"What's your move?" His eyes were no longer a lover's—they were a soldier's, trusting his partner completely.

"Allen's appearance just wrecked our plan."

I walked to the table, picked up the champagne waiting for me, and downed it in one swallow.

The cold bite steadied my pulse.

"No. He didn't wreck it." I set the glass down hard enough to make it ring. "He just made the play more real."

I met Arthur's gaze, my lips curling into something wild.

"A mafia heir who killed his father, a woman blinded by love... and now a former lover turned FBI agent, hell-bent on dragging us both to prison. Tell me that's not a better story than the one we planned."

Arthur's eyes lit with the same fire I felt.

"So the press conference not only happens," I continued, "it gets bigger. We put the conflict right on the table. Make them believe we're too busy fighting Allen to focus on anything else."

"I get it. Misdirection. Use the press to pull their eyes off the real play."

I stepped closer, smoothing the wrinkles I'd left in his suit.

"I'll stay in the spotlight. I'll play the woman hounded by her ex, protected by her mafia fiancé. I'll throw Allen's dirt out in public, force him off balance. You, meanwhile, move in the shadows. Find the one holding the knife. Find my mother."

"And you're not worried something will go wrong on stage?"

He caught my hand.

"Wrong is the best cover," I said. "And I can handle it. You just stay invisible. If this guy can pull Allen's strings, he's got eyes everywhere."

I gripped his hand in return.

Half an hour later, Lisa and my computer arrived, Colin moving fast.

"Sophia, it's insane out there! That video—" Lisa started.

"I know." I cut her off, setting the laptop on the table and powering it up. "This isn't the time. Listen carefully. I need you to use every media contact you have to dig up someone."

"Who?"

"FBI agent. Allen." My fingers flew over the keys. "I want his last three months of movements. Official and unofficial. Who he met. Where he went. Calls he shouldn't have made. And especially—any contact with private medical facilities tied to Wasserfeld."

Lisa blinked. "Wasserfeld? Medical facilities? Sophia, what—"

"Don't ask. Just do it. One hour. I want results."

She nodded and stepped away, already dialing.

I looked to Arthur. He was speaking quietly to Colin.

"...follow that black SUV. I want to know where he goes after this. Who's in the car with him. Use everyone. Don't lose it."

"Yes, boss." Colin left at speed.

The restaurant became our temporary war room.

Arthur in the shadows. Me in the light.

I stirred the media storm and dug for intel. He deployed the hunters.

We moved like two machines, each tuned for the same target.

My mind spun. Why would the shadow let Allen be seen?

It didn't make sense. Unless... this wasn't exposure. It was a warning.

He was telling me he knew where my mother was. And that he could place an FBI agent anywhere he wanted.

It was a display of power. Arrogant. Showy. The kind of arrogance that—

I froze.

A detail I'd dismissed slammed into me like a bolt.

That encrypted call.

The shadow's voice, mocking me, proving he knew everything—he had fed my own voice back to me, in real time, through my landline.

A fatal mistake.