Chapter 87
Smith Manor.
Elizabeth was in the study handling several encrypted documents sent by the Nightfall organization, one of which was the latest analysis on Charles' recent frequent financial transactions with an overseas shell company.
There was a knock on the door. Tina announced that Ms. Smith was visiting.
Elizabeth's brow furrowed, what did she want?
She asked Tina to take Samantha to the small living room.
Samantha dressed a bit more conservatively today, with a fake smile on her face. As soon as she saw Elizabeth, she leaned over affectionately. "Elizabeth! So sorry to interrupt, I hope I'm not disturbing you?"
Elizabeth put down the tablet in her hand, her tone distant and polite. "Ms. Smith. To what do I owe the pleasure?"
"ODon't be so formal! We'll be family soon enough," Samantha sat down pretending to be familiar, and then immediately put on a sad expression, "Honestly, I'm just in a terrible mood. With Mom… well, you know how it is. The atmosphere at home is just so strange, and I couldn't bear being alone. I was hoping I could drag you out for a drink, just to talk and get my mind off things. You wouldn't say no, would you?"
Elizabeth wanted to refuse without even thinking.
Elizabeth's immediate impulse was to do precisely that. She had no interest in indulging Samantha's transparently manipulative games, nor did she have the time or patience for a staged performance of sisterly bonding. "I'm sorry, I have plans this evening," she stated, her refusal clean and direct, leaving no room for negotiation.
A flash of irritation tightened the corners of Samantha's mouth before she forced the smile back into place. "Don't be so quick to refuse," she pressed, her tone feigning casualness. "I've already booked a place. The Aurora Bar. I hear their signature cocktails are to die for, and it's incredibly private."
"The Aurora Bar?" Elizabeth paused, the motion of rising from her chair arrested. She lifted her gaze, her eyes narrowing slightly as she studied Samantha's expectant face. What a coincidence.
Just that morning, a message had materialized through Nightfall's most secure, clandestine channels on the dark web. The anonymous sender's tone was outrageously arrogant, claiming to possess knowledge of Noel's partial true identity. The demand was simple: Noel was to appear alone at midnight, in the third VIP booth of the Aurora Bar. Failure to appear, or sending a substitute, would be considered an act of provocation, with consequences to follow. The messenger's identity was untraceable, their IP address a ghost that had leaped through countless encrypted proxies. They knew Nightfall's contact methods and the leader's codename, but their phrasing was vague, laced with the distinct undertones of a test, a taunt.
Elizabeth had been weighing her options. She despised being reactive, and she loathed the idea of anyone treating Nightfall as a pawn to be manipulated. And now, Samantha was inviting her to the very same location. Was it a genuine coincidence, or had someone orchestrated this from behind the curtain?
Her mind raced, but her expression remained impassive, betraying none of the calculations churning within. Instead, she allowed a flicker of manufactured interest to show. "Aurora Bar. I think I've heard of it. Is it safe?"
Sensing a shift in Elizabeth's resolve, Samantha's spirits visibly lifted. "Safe? Of course, it's safe!" she assured her, leaning forward with renewed enthusiasm. "It's one of Jacob's properties. No one would dare cause trouble there! And you'll be with me. We'll just have a quiet drink, chat for a bit, and come right back."
Elizabeth watched her, saw the glee and malice that Samantha failed to fully conceal in her eyes, and a cold, silent laugh echoed in her mind. Safe? More likely a carefully prepared trap designed to be anything but. Still, this development was not without its advantages. Since her adversaries had already set the stage, it would be rude not to make an appearance. It was a perfect opportunity to probe the mysterious messenger and, simultaneously, uncover whatever scheme Samantha and Lilith were plotting. A single stone to fell two birds.
"Alright," Elizabeth conceded, as if finally persuaded. She gave a slight, acquiescing nod. "Since you've invited me so graciously, I suppose I can't refuse. What time?"
Samantha struggled to contain the triumphant joy that threatened to burst forth. "Nine! I'll come pick you up at nine!" She said quickly.
Then, her eyes darted, a new idea taking shape. "And for a place like that, you have to dress the part! I know the most amazing stylist. I'll have her come over right now and work her magic on you. I guarantee you'll be the center of attention! It's time everyone saw just how beautiful you are."
The scheme was pathetically transparent. 'Dress Elizabeth up, make her a dazzling spectacle. In a place like a bar, a beautiful woman who appeared to be alone was an easy target for unwanted attention. If she were to get entangled with another man, if some "accident" were to occur, word would inevitably reach Jacob. Given his possessive nature and his currently ambiguous feelings for Elizabeth, the resulting storm would be spectacular.'
Samantha could already imagine the fallout, and the thought of Elizabeth's fall from grace was intoxicating.
Elizabeth saw through the shabby, vicious little plot with perfect clarity, but she offered no resistance. She even graced Samantha with a faint smile. "That's very thoughtful of you. I'd appreciate that."
"It's no trouble, no trouble at all! I'll go make the call right now!" Samantha exclaimed, practically skipping out of the room in her excitement.
Elizabeth's gaze turned glacial. Tonight was destined to be anything but calm. And she needed to prepare.
While Samantha's stylist was still en route, a discreet vibration came from Elizabeth's private communicator. It was an encrypted message from Lynx.
[Noel, regarding last night's unexecuted mission: the successor, Raven, is in position near the target's frequently visited apartment. However, the target is emotionally volatile. She is alone, repeatedly dialing an unresponsive number and shouting that she is Mr. Smith's lover. She is threatening to go public with everything if he doesn't see her. Raven, exercising caution, has paused the operation and awaits instructions. The target's connection to Mr. Smith requires risk reassessment.]
Elizabeth's eyebrow arched as she read the text. Mr. Smith's lover?
An image surfaced in her mind: the woman from outside the showers at Stellar Training Center. Could it be her?
But would Jacob tolerate one of his women consorting with Darren, engaging in sordid behavior in a public facility?
It seemed illogical. Unless, of course, the woman was lying.
Regardless, the claim itself was sensitive, especially at this delicate juncture in her own relationship with Jacob.
If this woman had any connection to him, even a fleeting one-night stand, and was then eliminated under Elizabeth's authority, the discovery could breed dangerous suspicion and conflict down the line.
Another message from Lynx appeared.
[Noel, shall I take over personally, or do we shelve it for now?]
Elizabeth paused, considering. Her intuition told her there was more to this woman, this Lucy. Or rather, there was more to the "Mr. Smith" she was connected to. This could be an unexpected window into the secrets of the Smith family.
She typed a swift reply: [Tell Raven to stand down and withdraw. Contact the client. Inform them that the target's identity is now in question, involving a Mr. Smith, and the risk level has been elevated. Demand more accurate background information on the target and a corresponding increase in payment. A common woman and the woman of the Smith family's patriarch do not command the same price.]
She was curious to see who wanted Lucy dead, and whether they were aware of her self-proclaimed status as a Smith family mistress.
The message, filtered through layers of encryption, quickly found its way to an anxious Hall.
When he learned that Nightfall had suspended the mission due to the target's questionable identity, a cold sweat broke out across his skin. He mentally cursed the fool, Lucy, a thousand times over.
The idiot woman was actually broadcasting her connection to Mr. Smith all over town, to the point where even a clandestine organization like Nightfall had become suspicious.