Chapter 38 The Devil’s diplomacy

Chapter 38 The Devil’s diplomacy

KAI’S POV.

The digital traces were gone, scrubbed clean by a team that cost more than a small country’s GDP. I’d overseen the final deletion myself, watching the packets of data vanish into the ether. My father’s web was vast, but my own was faster—at least for tonight.

But clearing the internet was only half the battle. There was still the matter of the person who had been my original target since the moment I stepped onto this campus.

Veronica.

I’d received her message an hour after Briselle fell asleep in the guest room. It wasn't a request, it was an ultimatum. She wanted to see the man who was currently the center of her sister’s chaotic new universe. I’d agreed, of course. In my world, you never pass up an opportunity to study your objective.

Besides, I hadn't chosen Briselle out of thin air. I’d noticed Veronica first—her sharp tongue, her reckless streak, that magnetic, jagged energy that reminded me so much of the world I came from. She was the one I wanted, the one who actually fit the Thornefield mold. But she was guarded, wrapped in a layer of suburban protection that was hard to pierce. Briselle had been the gateway I needed to get close to the family, to weave myself into their lives until I was indispensable. Now, the gateway was open.

I met her at a discreet, high-end lounge near the campus periphery, a place where the lighting was dim enough to hide a face but the service was fast enough to facilitate a quick escape.

When I arrived, Veronica was already there, sitting in a velvet booth, a half-empty martini in front of her. She looked like a sharper, more vivid version of the girl sleeping in my penthouse.

"You're late," she said, her voice dripping with an artificial bravado.

"I’m exactly when I intended to be," I replied, sliding into the booth opposite her. I didn't order a drink.

"You wanted to see me, Veronica. I assume this isn't about my charitable contributions."

She leaned forward, her eyes narrowed. "I saw the photo, Kai. My sister and Arden looking very...comfortable." She let out a sharp, brittle laugh. "That must have stung. The great Kai Thornefield, replaced by his own shadow. How does it feel to be the second choice?"

I leaned back, steepled my fingers, and watched her. She was trying to draw blood, but she didn't realize she was playing right into my hands.

"Arden is a friend," I said, my voice smooth and utterly devoid of the irritation she was fishing for. "And Briselle is...a sweet girl. But let's be honest, Veronica. She lacks the fire that makes someone truly interesting. She’s a bit predictable, don't you think?"

I saw the flicker of surprise in her eyes. I leaned in closer, dropping my voice to a low, intimate register. I let my gaze wander over her—not with the cold calculation I used for her sister, but with a heat that was entirely intentional. I’d been waiting for this moment.

"You, on the other hand," I murmured, "are anything but predictable."

I reached out, my fingers grazing the back of her hand on the table. She didn't pull away, the tension between us shifted from hostility to something much more dangerous.

"You have your sister’s eyes," I said, my voice barely a whisper. "But there’s a hunger in yours that she’ll never understand. I saw it the first time I saw you. Why do you think I’ve been so invested in this little arrangement? Do you really think I’m that desperate for a 'muse'?"

Veronica’s breath hitched. She was trapped in the very net she’d tried to cast. The vanity, the thrill of being chosen over the sister who usually played the saint—it was all there, written on her face.

"What are you saying, Kai?" she asked, her voice trembling slightly.

"I’m saying that I’m tired of playing the part of the devoted boyfriend to a girl who’d rather hide in a garden with Arden," I said, my thumb tracing small circles on her skin. "I’m saying that maybe I’ve been looking at the wrong sister this whole time."

I let a slow, predatory smirk touch my lips. "Tell me, Veronica...if I were to suggest that you and I could find a much more interesting way to spend an evening, wouldn't that make that boyfriend of yours feel quite...inadequate? Or do you always settle for the safe option?"

The color rushed to her face—a hot, guilty flush. She stared at me, her mouth slightly agape. She was responding to the attention, to the Thornefield gravity, exactly the way I knew she would. She wasn't her sister; she didn't have the moral compass that made Briselle so difficult to handle. Veronica wanted the power, she wanted the fire.

"He...he wouldn't like it," she stammered, but she didn't say no.

"No," I agreed, my smile widening. "I imagine he wouldn't. But then again, he doesn't need to know everything, does he? Just like Briselle doesn't need to know that while she’s worrying about photos, her sister is sitting here, wondering what it would be like to have everything I can offer."

I stood up, the move sudden and deliberate, leaving her breathless in the booth.

"I have to get back," I said, the "perfect gentleman" mask slipping back into place, though the look I gave her remained heavy with implication. "Briselle is still sleeping. But think about what I said, Veronica. You aren't meant to be the support staff in your sister’s story. You’re meant to be the lead."

I turned and walked out of the lounge, the cool night air hitting my face.

I had moved the pieces. I’d planted the seed of betrayal in the one person Briselle trusted most. It was cold, it was manipulative, and it was exactly what a Thornefield did to get what he wanted. I liked Veronica—I always had. And if I had to use her sister to break her down, to make her mine, then that was just the cost of the game.

As I walked toward the car, I felt the familiar, dark thrill of control. I was playing them both, and by the time they realized the board was rigged, I’d have exactly what I came for.