Chapter 35 Ethan
Inside the folder was a dossier photos, documents, a timeline of Ethan's activities over the past three years.
"Ethan has been working as a junior operative for Stirling-Hale's intelligence division," James explained. "His primary function was to identify and cultivate relationships with employees at target companies. He would gain their trust, extract information, and when necessary, facilitate data breaches or document theft."
I felt sick. "He was using me from the beginning."
"Yes," Eleanor said, not unkindly. "We believe he identified you as a potential access point to Cole Enterprises approximately six months after you began dating. Your position in marketing gave you access to campaign strategies, client lists, and internal communications that would be valuable to a competitor."
"But I never gave him anything," I protested. "I never talked about work—"
"You didn't have to," Marcus said quietly. "Men like Ethan are patient. They build trust, create emotional dependence, then wait for the right moment. The Book of Signatures was that moment. He needed to move it out of his apartment before Stirling-Hale's internal security discovered he'd kept a physical copy. So he gave it to you, knowing you'd hide it without asking questions."
"Because I trusted him," I whispered.
"Because he made you trust him," Eleanor corrected. "That's what he does, Lila. It's not your fault."
But it felt like my fault. It felt like I should have seen it, should have known that the man I'd spent two years with was a lie.
"Where is he now?" I asked.
"We don't know," James admitted. "He disappeared approximately twelve hours after the crash. We believe he's either in hiding or being debriefed by Stirling-Hale."
"And you want me to find him," I said dully.
"We want you to lure him out," Eleanor clarified. "If he believes you're grieving, vulnerable, and unaware of his true role, he may try to contact you. To manipulate you into giving up the Book, or to ensure you don't become a liability."
"You want me to pretend I still care about him." The words tasted like ash.
"We want you to use his playbook against him," James said. "Make him think he still has control. And when he comes for you, we'll be ready."
I looked down at Ethan's photo in the dossier that familiar face, that easy smile. The man I'd loved. The man who had never existed.
"And if I say no?"
"Then we find another way," Marcus said immediately. "But it will take longer. And every day we wait is another day Stirling-Hale has to regroup, to plan another attack, to eliminate witnesses."
Including me.
"How would it work?" I asked. "Hypothetically."
Eleanor pulled out another document. "We would stage your 'reappearance' carefully. A social media post, perhaps. Something that suggests you survived the crash but are recovering, grieving Adrian's death. Ethan monitors social media for intelligence purposes. He would see it."
"And then?"
"Then we wait for him to make contact," James said. "Could be a text, a call, an in-person visit. When he does, you play along. You act like the heartbroken girlfriend who needs comfort. And you arrange to meet him somewhere we control."
"And then you arrest him?"
"Then we extract information," Eleanor said coolly. "Names, accounts, evidence we can use to dismantle Stirling-Hale from the inside. Ethan is a low-level operative, but he knows things. Saw things. If we can flip him, turn him into a witness, the entire operation collapses."
"And if he won't flip?"
Silence.
I didn't need them to answer. I could see it in their faces.
If Ethan wouldn't cooperate, he would disappear. Not arrested. Not tried.
Disappeared.
"I need time to think," I said, standing up. My legs felt shaky, but I forced them to hold me. "This is... it's too much. I can't decide this right now."
"You have twenty-four hours," James said. "After that, we move forward with or without your cooperation."
"James—" Eleanor started.
"She needs to understand the stakes," he cut her off. "This isn't a negotiation, Lila. This is war. And in war, indecision gets people killed."
I met his gaze head-on. "Then give me twenty-four hours to decide if I'm willing to become a soldier in your war."
I walked out before they could respond, Marcus following close behind.
The safe house was quiet when we returned.
It was a small apartment two bedrooms, a kitchenette, a living room with windows that showed the city but were tinted so darkly no one could see in. Everything was beige and neutral, carefully designed to be comfortable but impersonal.
A prison with nice furniture.
"You should eat something," Marcus said, heading to the kitchen. "Actual food this time, not a protein bar."
"I'm not hungry."
"You're eating for two," he reminded me. "Dr. Chen was very clear about nutrition requirements."
I sank onto the couch, pulling a throw pillow against my chest. "Does everyone just boss me around now? Is that my life?"
Marcus paused, then came and sat in the chair across from me. "No. But people are trying to keep you alive. Sometimes that looks like bossing you around."
"I'm so tired, Marcus." The words came out broken. "I'm tired of being scared. Tired of having decisions made for me. Tired of feeling like I'm one wrong move away from everything falling apart."
"I know," he said quietly.
"Do you?" I looked at him. "Do you know what it's like to have your entire life stripped away? To wake up and realize nothing you thought was real actually was?"
He was silent for a long moment. Then: "Yes. Actually, I do."
Something in his voice made me look at him more carefully. "What happened to you?"
"That's a story for another time," he said. "But I will tell you this Adrian chose me for his security detail because he knew I understood what it was like to be remade by circumstances you didn't choose. He trusted me because I'd survived my own version of what you're going through now."
"And did you?" I asked. "Survive?"
"I'm here, aren't I?" He smiled faintly. "You will too, Lila. You're stronger than you think."
"Everyone keeps saying that," I muttered. "But I don't feel strong. I feel terrified."
"Strong people are terrified all the time," Marcus said. "They just keep moving anyway."