Chapter 4
The café was too bright. Too public. But Lord Swift had chosen it—of course, he had.
Mira walked in with her hood up, sunglasses covering most of her face. Her hands were
steady, but only because she'd spent the last three hours reminding herself to breathe.
He sat by the window like he owned the sunlight. Tailored black suit. No tie. A cane was
propped casually against the chair. He looked like he belonged somewhere colder.
Somewhere crueler.
"Sit," he said, without looking up from his coffee.
Mira sat.
"You've ignored me for a year," he said, sipping slowly. "That's rude."
"I've been busy," she replied.
He smiled faintly, like someone enjoying a private joke. "Lying never suited you. You weren't
trained for it."
"I didn't ask for training."
"No. But you took it, didn't you?"
She didn't answer.
Lord Swift leaned back, examining her like a surgeon might study a broken rib.
"Ethan still thinks he can win this quietly. That's his weakness. Sentiment."
Mira's stomach turned.
"Leave him out of this."
Swift's smile widened.
"Oh, he's already in it. He put you in the middle. What did you think would happen? That
he'd protect you?" He leaned forward now, voice lower. "Or that he'd sacrifice you when it
got too real?"
Mira looked down at her hands. Her fingers were clenched.
"What do you want?" she asked.
He pulled a folded paper from his jacket. Slid it across the table.
"You're going to deliver this to Sofia. Face to face. No email. No trails."
Mira stared at it.
"What is it?"
"Proof," he said simply. "Of what Ethan's doing. Of what she's walking into."
"You're setting him up."
"I'm correcting a mistake."
Mira didn't touch the paper. Her voice was barely a whisper.
"He was never going to let me leave, was he?"
Swift didn't answer.
Instead, he stood, lifted his cane, and straightened his cuffs.
"I'll be watching, Mira. Don't run again."
He walked out like he owned the street.
And for the first time in weeks, Mira felt like she was standing at the edge of something far
worse than anything Ethan could've imagined.
Sofia stared at the email for a long time.
Unmarked sender. Just coordinates. No message.
She clicked off the screen and stood. Her assistant, Lena, looked up from the corner desk.
"Cancel my afternoon," Sofia said, grabbing her coat.
"Are you okay?" Lena asked.
Sofia didn't answer.
The address took her to a parking garage three blocks from her office. The air was thick with
engine smoke and old rain. She parked on the third level and waited.
Ten minutes.
Then fifteen.
Then she saw him—someone from the corner of her memory. A tech specialist she'd worked
with briefly during her first acquisition year.
He climbed into her car, silent, and handed her a flash drive.
"You didn't get this from me," he said.
"What's on it?"
"Greybridge's offshore ledger. The real one."
Sofia blinked. "Who's been funding it?"
His eyes were tired. "Start with the oldest names. Follow the currency trails. Don't stop until
you hit Swift."
Then he got out and walked away.
Sofia didn't drive off. Not yet. She sat there gripping the flash drive, her thoughts racing.
Mira had tried to protect her.
Now she understood why.
Adrian's penthouse was silent, the windows open to the night breeze.
He sat at his desk, a single lamp casting shadows on the walls. In front of him: the folder
Ethan had given him... and something new.
An anonymous envelope.
Inside: two photos.
Mira slips into a café.
The other—Lord Swift, watching from a car across the street.
Adrian's jaw tightened.
He reached for his phone, hesitated, then dialed.
It rang twice.
"Talk to me," Ethan said on the other end.
"You told me Swift wasn't involved yet."
Silence.
"I said he was circling," Ethan replied.
"You lied."
Another pause.
Then Ethan said, calm as ever, "Adrian, if you're going to get squeamish about old alliances,
maybe it's time you sat the next deal out."
Adrian looked down at the photos again.
"No," he said quietly. "I think it's time I started asking better questions."
He ended the call before Ethan could reply.
---
Sofia's apartment. Midnight.
She plugged in the flash drive.
On the screen: names, numbers, encrypted data.
But one name made her stop cold.
Adrian T. Larsen.
Quiet backer. Silent signature.
Greybridge wasn't just Ethan's project.
It was both of them.
And suddenly, she wasn't sure who the real enemy was anymore.
The rain hit the glass like it was trying to get in.
Sofia stood by her office window, flash drive still clutched in her hand like it might burn a hole
through her skin. She hadn't slept. Couldn't. Not after what she saw. Offshore accounts.
Fake contracts. And Adrian's name—buried deep, like he'd wanted it hidden.
But what crushed her wasn't the data.
It was that Mira knew.
And didn't say a word.
The buzzer on her desk crackled.
"Mira McCommer. She says you're expecting her."
Sofia didn't answer right away.
Her hand hovered over the intercom. Everything in her said to tell security to escort her out,
to slam the door in the past—but something colder took over.
"Send her in," Sofia said.
The door opened.
Mira walked in like a ghost—hair pulled back, jacket too thin for the weather, dark circles
under her eyes. But it was her. Still Mira. Still on fire. Just burned lower now.
"You look like hell," Sofia said.
Mira shut the door quietly behind her. "I've been in it."
The silence stretched between them. Heavy. Ugly.
Then Sofia threw the flash drive onto the desk.
"You knew. For how long?"
Mira didn't answer.
"Don't lie to me."
Mira's voice cracked—barely above a whisper. "Almost a year."
Sofia laughed. Bitter. "A year. A whole year. While I was pitching to investors and chasing
shadows, you were what—helping him?"
"I was protecting you."
"You were protecting him," Sofia snapped.
"I thought I could stop it from the inside—"
"You thought?" Her voice rose. "You thought you could lie to me, feed me scraps, and still
call that loyalty?"
Mira stepped forward. "I didn't have a choice. He had leverage. He always does. You think I
don't hate myself for this?"
Sofia stared at her. "Then why come now?"
Mira pulled a black envelope from her coat and dropped it onto the desk. "Because now,
there's more than Ethan. Lord Swift's in it."
Sofia's jaw tightened.
Mira nodded. "He's making a move. Said you need to see the real play—before it swallows
you."
Sofia didn't pick up the envelope. She just stared at Mira.
"I want to trust you," she said. "But I don't know if I can."
Mira's voice was low. "Then don't. Just open it."
Ethan Cross was not smiling.
The screens in his office flickered as his fixer replayed the footage—grainy security cam
shots of Mira entering Sofia's building. No disguise. No shame.
"They met," the fixer said. "And she brought something."
Ethan's hands were still. "How much did she give her?"
"We don't know. However, the trace on Sofia's network caught an external file access.
Offshore data."
Ethan nodded once.
Then shut the laptop.
"I want eyes on Adrian. Every call. Every movement."
The fixer blinked. "Adrian? You think he's—"
"I don't think so. I know when someone's too quiet."
He stood and adjusted his cuffs. Calm. Controlled.
"Start cleaning the house," he said. "Anyone Mira ever touched—cut them loose. We're done
playing safe."
"And Mira?"
Ethan's eyes darkened. "I'll handle her myself."
Adrian wasn't in his usual office.
He was down in the sublevel archive, lights low, along with a decoy laptop and a burner
drive.
He'd found it. The file Mira tried to bury. The one Ethan erased from the official servers.
A shell within a shell. A name buried deep in Greybridge: Project Ecliptic.
And under that, a name that didn't belong.
Sofia McCommer—listed as a future acquisition.
Not a competitor.
A target.
Adrian stared at the screen, his chest tight.
He didn't need to guess what that meant.
Ethan hadn't just lied.
He'd planned this. From the start.
Adrian copied everything, slid the drive into his jacket, and locked the laptop back into the
cabinet.
When he stepped into the elevator, his face was calm.
Neutral.
If Ethan wanted to play god, Adrian would be the storm.
That night, Sofia sat alone.
Mira was gone—vanished after the meeting. Said she had to move again.
The envelope still sat unopened. But the flash drive data had been enough to shatter what
she thought she knew.
Adrian was in it.
But she didn't know how deep.
And now this—Swift's name again.
Her phone buzzed.
No name.
Just a message:
"You're not the prey, Sofia. You're the piece he can't afford to lose. Meet me. Alone.
Midnight. 700 Vale Street."
She stared at the screen.
No fear.
Just fire.
Let the game begin