Chapter 39
Adriana’s POV
When I woke, everything smelled of antiseptic and muted fear.
The ceiling above me was too white, the hum of the vents promising recovery that felt like a lie. This wasn’t a public hospital room, it was a private suite, bought with silence. Cameras off, windows tinted, no press within three floors.
My ribs ached as I shifted. A nurse appeared instantly. “Easy, ma’am. The doctor said—”
“I know what he said.” My voice came out soft, measured. I sipped water. “How long?”
“Eighteen hours. Mild concussion, minor lacerations—”
I stopped listening. The injuries didn’t matter. What mattered was who made them possible.
The door opened. Raymond filled the frame like a storm held in shape. Dark coat, darker eyes. He dismissed the nurse with a glance sharp enough to draw blood.
“Good,” he said once we were alone. “You’re awake.”
I studied him…the rigid jaw, the tremor in his right hand, the fury buried under control. “You haven’t slept.”
“Couldn’t.”
He didn’t sit. Just stood, watching the machines that charted my pulse like a battlefield.
“What have you found?” I asked.
His jaw flexed. “Enough to know it wasn’t chance. Not enough to name them.”
“You will.”
Silence stretched, brittle.
Finally, he said, “You shouldn’t have been alone in that car. I should’ve—”
“Stop.” My tone sliced through the air. “You’re not taking the blame for this.”
His gaze held mine. “Someone inside tampered with that vehicle, Adriana. No one else had clearance. That’s on me.”
“It’s on us,” I corrected. “This house doesn’t break alone.”
Something softened behind his eyes..briefly before hardening again. “Matthew found traces. Someone tried wiping a few hours of footage from the estate servers. Sloppy job. Left echoes.”
“Echoes?”
“Coded entries. Someone’s been sending encrypted updates to a number routed through Selene’s network.”
I exhaled slowly. “So it’s one of ours.”
Raymond nodded once. “And they’re close. Very close.”
The door opened again. Matthew entered, jacket slung over one arm, expression grim.
“She’s awake,” he said. “Good. You’ll want this.”
He dropped a slim folder beside my bed. “The tampered logs came from the east wing server. Whoever did it used Camille’s clearance.”
My heart stilled. “Camille?”
Matthew nodded. “Her ID, her code.”
Raymond’s tone turned to ice. “She doesn’t have the skill to encrypt like that.”
“No,” Matthew said. “But someone used her as a mask.”
Camille ..loyal, fragile, easily exploited.
“Where is she?”
“In her quarters. Joseph’s with her.”
“Of course,” Raymond muttered.
Matthew hesitated. “He’s angry, Adriana. Thinks you already suspect her.”
“I do,” I said flatly. “That’s the point.”
Raymond’s eyes narrowed. “You’re planning something.”
“Always.” I met his gaze. “But not what you think.”
When I was strong enough to stand, they moved me back to the estate. The doctors protested. Raymond silenced them with a look made of steel.
By nightfall, the house was quiet again…too quiet. Every step echoed like a reminder.
Camille was waiting in my study, hands clenched, knuckles white.
“Sit,” I told her.
She obeyed, eyes flickering up, then down. “My lady, I swear I didn’t—”
“I know.” I walked to the window, rain blurring the city below. “But someone used your clearance.”
She flinched. “How? I never—”
“I believe you,” I said again, turning back. “That’s why I need you close. Let them think you’re still under suspicion.”
Her eyes widened. “You want them to—”
“Show themselves,” I finished. “Betrayal feeds on fear. Let’s starve it, then bait it.”
A knock. Joseph entered, every muscle wound tight.
“Enough,” he snapped. “She’s terrified. This interrogation—”
“This conversation,” I corrected. “And you’re interrupting.”
Our eyes met, tension thick enough to cut.
“Raymond says you think she’s being framed,” Joseph said finally. “I can prove it.”
“Good,” I said. “Do it quietly.”
He hesitated. “And if it’s someone closer?”
“Then they’ll hang themselves faster.”
When they left, Raymond stepped out from the corner shadow he’d been standing in the whole time.
“You’re using them as bait,” he said.
“They’re already targets,” I replied. “Might as well make the risk count.”
He didn’t argue.
By the next night, the pieces began to move.
Matthew traced the encrypted calls each carried a unique signature buried in metadata. The device used was an old internal line, one with limited clearance.
Only three people could access it. Myself. Raymond. And…
“Who?” I asked.
Matthew’s voice was taut. “Alexander Grant.”
I froze. My chief aide. Four years of loyalty, composure, precision. The man who managed my words before they reached the world.
Raymond muttered a curse.
“He’s been with us since the foundation,” I said quietly.
“And covering his tracks just as long,” Matthew replied. “The code’s his fingerprint.”
I didn’t argue. I reached for the phone and dialed.
“Alexander,” I said when he answered, tone calm. “Dinner tonight. Just us. To discuss the press conference.”
A pause. “At the estate?”
“No. Somewhere quieter.”
“Understood.”
I hung up.
Raymond watched me. “You’re not bringing him here.”
“No,” I said. “But I’ll let him walk into something.”
The dining room was all gold and shadow. Two glasses. One bottle of wine. The kind of silence that seduces truth.
Alexander arrived on time polished, calm, faultless.
“You look better than the reports said,” he offered, pulling out a chair.
“I heal quickly,” I said. “Sit.”
He poured the wine, hands steady.
I waited a beat. “Tell me, Alexander — do you believe in loyalty?”
He smiled faintly. “To a cause, always. To a person, when they earn it.”
“And have I earned yours?”
“Without question.”
“Then why,” I asked softly, “have you been speaking to Selene’s network?”
Color drained from his face.
“I don’t know what you—”
“Don’t.” My voice cut through his lie. “The encryption pattern’s yours. You used a repeater that logged every outbound ping.”
He swallowed. “It’s not what you think.”
“Oh, I think it’s exactly what I think.” I stood, slow, deliberate. “You sold my route. My schedule. You made sure my brakes failed before I left the city.”
His voice cracked. “It wasn’t meant to kill you!”
“Then what? Scare me? Tame me?”
“She promised protection,” he said. “You were going to destroy everything. The council—”
“The council is mine,” I said coldly. “You were hers.”
Raymond stepped out from the side room, gun low but ready, fury carved into stillness.
“Alexander Grant,” he said. “You’ve just become the shortest-lived man in this house.”
“Raymond,” I said sharply. “No.”
He blinked. “You can’t mean—”
“I need him to talk. And fear speaks louder than death.”
Alexander’s breath hitched.
“Sit,” I ordered.
He obeyed. Trembling.
“Every message, every name, every request — you’ll write them all. And when you’re done,” I smiled faintly, “you’ll drink the wine you poured.”
He stared. “Poison?”
“No,” I said softly. “Truth serum. Maybe something gentler.”
Raymond’s voice was low. “You’re sure?”
“Yes. Because when he’s done talking, he won’t walk out of this room.”
Alexander’s eyes widened. “Please, my lady—”
“Don’t,” I said, tired now. “You made your choice.”
The clock ticked. The city outside kept humming.
I turned to Raymond. “Seal the doors. No interruptions.”
The lock slid home with a sound that felt like a verdict.
By morning, one of my most trusted men would be gone.
And for the first time in months, the balance tilted back to me.
As the doors shut behind them, Adriana met Raymond’s gaze — calm, deliberate, unyielding.
“Let them send their next ghost,” she murmured. “We’re done waiting in the dark.”