Chapter 37
In a dingy corner of a rundown internet café, Elizabeth kept the brim of her cap pulled low. She was bouncing her connection through multiple proxies, logging into the Nightfall backend to cook up a little surprise for Vivian.
Her fingers flew across the keyboard, a blur of motion as she configured the mission parameters.
Suddenly, a tiny haptic motor she'd installed in her mouse vibrated softly.
It was an internal counter-tracking alert from Nightfall. Low-level, but it meant someone with a decent skill set was attempting to pinpoint her node.
Elizabeth's breath caught in her throat.
Who the hell was it?
Without a flicker of hesitation, she aborted everything. An emergency wipe protocol was executed, sending cascades of data scrolling across the screen before it went black.
She yanked the encrypted USB drive, snatched a worn-out jacket someone had left on the back of the chair, and pulled it on. The cap went down even lower. Blending in with the noise and the crowd, she looked like any other patron as she slipped out the back door.
She had just emerged from the grimy back alley onto a slightly more populated street when a black sedan slid to a silent stop at the corner.
The door swung open, and Jacob's tall, imposing figure unfolded from within. Dressed in a dark overcoat, his eyes scanned the surroundings with the predatory sharpness of a hawk, his presence a cold, stark contrast to the decaying neighborhood.
Elizabeth didn't break her stride, but her heart did a goddamn stutter-step.
How did he get here so fast? Coincidence, or…
She couldn't afford to look rattled.
Just as Jacob's gaze was about to sweep in her direction, her peripheral vision caught an old woman selling flowers on the sidewalk.
An idea sparked. She quickened her pace, dug some loose change from her pocket, and bought a small, simply wrapped bouquet of white daisies that were, against all odds, in full bloom.
Clutching the flowers, she schooled her features into a look of mild surprise and turned, walking directly into Jacob's path as he approached.
"Mr. Smith?" She widened her eyes, her tone laced with the perfect amount of confusion. "What are you doing here?"
Jacob stopped. His gaze fell on her, then flickered to the bouquet of daisies that looked so out of place in her hands, before finally settling on her deceptively calm face.
"Passing through," he stated, his voice flat and unreadable. "And you?"
Elizabeth lifted the bouquet slightly, a faint smile gracing her lips. Her voice softened, a calculated mix of vulnerability and a desire to please. "The room felt a little stuffy, so I came out for some air. I saw these flowers… they were so pretty, I just had to buy them. I thought, maybe you would like them, Mr. Smith?"
She looked up at him, her clear eyes holding his, and offered the bouquet, still carrying the dust of the street, just a little closer.
Jacob stared at the cheap, vibrant flowers in her hand.
The cluster of white daisies was glaringly conspicuous against the gray, grimy cityscape, and just as fragile.
He was silent for a beat, his eyes moving from the flowers back to her face. "Why daisies?" He asked.
These common, delicate little flowers you could find anywhere—they had nothing to do with him.
Because they were there, and they were the cheapest bunch the old lady had to get you off my back, Elizabeth thought.
But a warmer smile bloomed on her face. Her voice dropped to a softer register, as if she were sharing a small, heartfelt secret. "I find them special. They look so small and quiet, like a gust of wind could just tear them apart. But they always grow in patches, in the cracks between stones, at the foot of walls… anywhere they can find a little bit of sun and soil, they thrive. And they're always so clean."
She paused, her eyes lifting to his again, a flicker of a test in their depths. "They remind me a little of you."
Jacob's brow twitched almost imperceptibly.
How did they remind her of him? Their perceived fragility? Or their stubborn resilience, their ability to take root in the harshest of environments?
He mulled over her words. That phrase, so clean, seemed to carry a hidden weight. Was she talking about her own situation, or was she hinting at something else?
Still, the clumsy, almost innocent comparison was strangely pleasing.
It was, at least, more interesting than the usual ass-kissing.
"You think these roadside weeds are worthy of being compared to me?" He scoffed, his tone laced with its usual arrogance. But his hand moved without hesitation.
He plucked the daisies from her grasp.
Then, he slipped the small bouquet into the inner pocket of his overcoat.
Elizabeth watched, stunned. She'd been bullshitting, pulling words out of thin air, and this man actually bought it?
She truly couldn't understand someone like Jacob. He'd been surrounded by flattery since birth; even as a child, throwing a rock would probably earn him a chorus of praise. To him, any compliment, no matter how outlandish, was just another Tuesday.
The soft, white petals rested against the expensive, custom-tailored fabric of his coat in a strangely harmonious tableau.
Only after securing the flowers did he look at her again, his gaze regaining its former sharpness. "Are there no flower shops near Smith Manor? You had to come all the way out to a place like this for a breath of air?"
Of course. He didn't fully believe her.
Elizabeth was ready. A hint of embarrassment colored her face, and her tone became even more natural. "Well, it wasn't just for a walk. I've always been interested in photography, but I never really had the chance to pursue it. I heard some spots around here were photogenic. I wanted to scout them out, maybe find some inspiration. I didn't expect to run into you, or these flowers."
She projected the perfect amount of shy eagerness, like any ordinary girl sharing a simple hobby.
Photography?
Jacob's gaze swept over her empty hands. He couldn't quite fathom why someone would go out to take photos without a camera. Was she planning on using her phone? But then he remembered her circumstances with the Windsor family, and he didn't press the point.
"Is that so?" He said flatly, dropping the subject. "Get in the car. We're going back."
Elizabeth obediently followed him into the vehicle.
The cabin was silent, save for the faint, clean scent of daisies wafting from his coat. As she watched the streetlights streak past the window, she replayed their conversation.
Jacob obviously hadn't swallowed her story whole, but he seemed to have accepted it for now.
That was enough.
What she hadn't expected was for Tina to knock on her door later that afternoon, flanked by two staff members carrying a large, securely packaged box.
"Ms. Windsor, Mr. Smith asked for this to be delivered to you," Tina announced, signaling for the men to open the crate.
Inside was a brand-new, top-of-the-line professional DSLR camera, a complete set of high-end lenses, various accessories, and even several coffee-table books by master photographers.
The equipment was worth a thousand times more than the cheap bouquet of daisies.
Elizabeth stared at the pile of expensive gear, momentarily speechless.
What the hell was Jacob's game?
Was this his way of telling her he knew she was too broke to afford a camera?
Did he think she was too poor to afford a camera?