[Jake’s POV]

Nia cracked the Bellamy hard drive in thirty-seven minutes.

She claimed it took that long because Richard Bellamy had used "the most emotionally insecure encryption structure in finance," which, according to her, meant expensive software, bad passwords, and a private folder labeled Tax Reference that no honest person would ever name that way. We were back inside Apex Tower by then, sealed in one of the smaller operations rooms below the executive floor. Marianne was upstairs with Claire, waiting for confirmation that her children had reached the safe house. Richard was in a secure legal room with Evelyn Cross, which was probably worse for him than any basement I could have put him in.

I sat at the end of the table with a bandage around my hand and a cup of coffee Darius had personally approved after staring at it like it might be poison. Ethan was stretched out on a couch near the wall, one arm over his eyes, pretending he was resting instead of listening to every word. Darius stood by the door. Victoria had three folders open in front of her. Cassandra sat beside Nia in her oversized grey sweater, knees pulled up on the chair, pale eyes fixed on the screen with nervous intensity.

"This is ugly," Nia said.

"That sounds technical," I replied.

"It is. Ugly is a very respected category in my field."

She tapped a key, and the wall screen filled with payment chains, shell entities, and trust accounts linked by thin red lines. Most of the names meant nothing at first glance, which meant someone had spent a lot of money making sure they looked boring. Claire would have appreciated that. The most dangerous documents were always the ones designed to put you to sleep.

Victoria leaned forward. "How many Bellamy payments?"

"Four confirmed," Nia said. "Two routed through a Swiss advisory firm, one through a children’s education trust, and one through a charity pledge that never reached the charity."

Victoria’s face hardened. "Marianne’s charity?"

"Yes."

I looked at the screen.

That was not just leverage. That was cruelty. Isabella’s people had not only threatened Bellamy’s family, they had moved money through the one part of Marianne’s life she still believed was clean. Whoever Margot was, she knew exactly where to place the knife.

Cassandra pulled her sleeves over her hands. "The Swiss advisory firm appears in three other places."

Nia glanced at her. "Show me."

Cassandra hesitated, then leaned forward and pointed to the lower corner of the screen. Her voice was soft, but the room listened. "There. Same routing structure. Different names, but the spacing of the transactions is similar. It looks like someone created pressure in waves. First warning, then reward, then threat."

Nia stared at the pattern for two seconds. "Damn. She’s right."

Cassandra immediately looked down, as if being right in public embarrassed her.

Victoria turned to me. "Three other people?"

"Names," I said.

Nia pulled the files open. "A procurement director at Vanguard. A legal scheduler connected to Aldridge Enterprises. And a dormant Aether Capital account manager who should not have had access to anything interesting."

Ethan lifted his arm from his face. "Should not have?"

Nia made a face. "People who should not have access to interesting things are usually the ones who make life miserable."

Darius looked at the screen. "Bought or threatened?"

"Unknown," Victoria said.

I took a slow sip of coffee. It tasted bitter and expensive, which meant someone had listened when I said I was back. "Then we find out before we swing."

Victoria studied me. "That is generous."

"No. It is efficient."

Ethan snorted from the couch. "There he is."

I ignored him.

A blue screen flickered in front of my eyes.

[Ding!]

[Bellamy Thread Updated!]

Current Lead: Margot.]

Objective: Identify the intermediary behind the pressure route.]

Reward: Target Chain Expansion.]

Penalty: Host will mispronounce one French word at a socially inconvenient moment.]

I stared at the penalty.

The System was getting personal.

Claire entered before I could decide whether to be offended. She had removed her blazer and rolled up her sleeves, and the controlled expression on her face told me she had spent the last hour holding someone else together. Marianne followed behind her, pale but composed. She carried herself differently now. Not stronger exactly. Just less willing to pretend weakness was politeness.

"My children are safe?" Marianne asked.

Victoria answered before I could. "They are inside a Sterling property outside the city. Private security, no school records, no digital check-in. They will not move again unless you approve it."

Marianne closed her eyes.

For the first time, her shoulders dropped.

"Thank you," she whispered.

Claire guided her to a chair. "We found the payment routes."

Marianne opened her eyes again, and the softness vanished. "Show me."

Nia looked at me.

I nodded.

The screen shifted. Marianne watched the red lines spread across the wall, saw her charity’s name appear inside the chain, and went very still. Richard’s betrayal had hurt her. This was different. This took the thing she had built for children and turned it into a tool for fear.

"She used my foundation," Marianne said.

Her voice was quiet.

Too quiet.

"Yes," I said.

Marianne stared at the screen for a long moment. "Then I want her name."

"We have one," Claire said. "Margot. Maybe false."

Marianne shook her head slowly. "Not false."

Everyone looked at her.

She swallowed. "Three weeks ago, Richard hosted a dinner here in the city. Small circle. Finance, museum donors, two European consultants. There was a woman there. Dark blonde hair. Gloves. Swiss or French accent. Richard introduced her as Margot Delacroix."

Nia typed immediately.

Victoria’s eyes narrowed. "Delacroix."

"You know the name?" I asked.

"Not personally. But Delacroix Advisory appeared during one of the blocked insurance routes."

Nia found it seconds later. "Delacroix Advisory Group. Geneva registration. Boutique risk consultancy. No real staff. Website built six months ago, but the shell registration was updated three weeks ago."

"Not six months," Claire said, stepping closer to the screen. "Three weeks. That matches the disappearance window."

Exactly.

The timeline was shrinking.

Not slow decay. Not a long bleed. A sharp strike.

Isabella had not been slowly poisoning the house for months. She had disappeared, Sofia went silent, and then someone began touching all the pressure points at once.

Marianne leaned forward. "She sat beside me at dinner."

I turned to her. "What did she want?"

"She asked about Richard. Our children. My foundation. Our marriage." Marianne’s mouth tightened. "I thought she was being charming."

"She was measuring you," Cassandra whispered.

Marianne looked at her.

Cassandra shrank slightly but continued. "People like that collect emotional weak points first. Money comes after."

Marianne’s eyes sharpened. "Yes. That is exactly what it felt like."

Nia pulled up a grainy photograph from the dinner’s private event archive. A woman in a black dress stood half-turned near the edge of the frame. Dark blonde hair. Gloves. Elegant posture. Face partially hidden by a champagne flute.

Margot.

The room went quiet.

The System chimed.

[Ding!]

[New Target Chain Detected!]

Target: Margot Delacroix

Status: Isabella-linked intermediary.]

Threat Value: Medium.]

Strategic Value: High.]

Mission: Find the Woman in Gloves

Objective: Track Margot Delacroix through her social route.]

Reward: Access to compromised board network.]

Penalty: Host will develop mild hiccups during next flirtatious conversation.]

I almost sighed.

Claire looked at me. "System?"

I froze.

The room did not move, but I felt the question land.

She had said it quietly, but not quietly enough.

Nia looked up from her keyboard. "What system?"

Claire’s eyes stayed on mine.

Ethan sat up slowly.

For one second, every lie I had kept pressed against my teeth.

Then Marianne saved me without knowing it.

"Mr. Hart?" she said.

I turned to her immediately. "Jake."

"Jake," she corrected. "If Margot is moving through social circles, I can help."

Richard had underestimated this woman so badly it almost made me angry.

"How?" Victoria asked.

Marianne sat straighter. "The Harrington trustees host a private winter reception in two nights. Margot was invited through Richard, but if she believes I am still frightened and isolated, she may come to close the loop herself."

Claire shook her head. "That is too dangerous."

Marianne’s expression hardened. "My children are in hiding because my husband was weak and this woman used my foundation like a laundering machine. I am done being useful by accident."

Ethan looked at me from the couch. "I like her more every time she talks."

"So do I," I said.

Marianne looked at me. "Then use me properly."

The room went still.

There was no seduction in her voice. No performance. Just anger sharpened into purpose.

Victoria leaned back slightly. "She can draw Margot out."

"She can," Claire said, though she clearly hated it.

Darius spoke from the door. "Or Margot draws her into a kill box."

Marianne did not flinch.

I looked at the photo of Margot on the wall. The woman in gloves. The neat smile. The half-hidden face. Isabella’s hand, or one of them.

"No kill boxes," I said. "We keep it public, controlled, and boring."

Ethan raised a hand. "Boring plans are usually where someone gets stabbed."

"Then we make it painfully boring."

The System flickered.

[Mission Update!]

Objective: Use Marianne Bellamy to draw out Margot Delacroix.]

Reward: Compromised Board Network Access.]

Penalty: To be determined.]

I hated that line.

Darius looked at me. "You still need sleep."

Nia pointed at him. "Thank you."

"I am surrounded by traitors," I muttered.

"No," Victoria said, closing the folder. "You are surrounded by the people who stayed."

That shut me up.

For a moment, the room settled.

Ethan on the couch, pale but awake. Claire beside Marianne, protective and sharp. Nia already digging through Margot’s digital shadow. Cassandra watching the patterns with nervous brilliance. Victoria holding the network together with both hands. Darius at the door, immovable. Marianne Bellamy sitting among monsters and deciding she would not be prey.

The people who stayed.

The phrase sat quietly in my chest.

Then Nia ruined the moment by pointing at me.

"Medical. Now."

"I have work."

"You have a pulse I don’t like and a face that says you think coffee counts as nutrition."

"It has beans."

"It has regret."

Ethan nodded. "She’s right. You look like a haunted finance professor."

Marianne blinked at that, then covered her mouth.

Even Claire smiled.

I stood slowly, feeling the exhaustion rise through my bones now that the adrenaline had nowhere else to hide.

"Fine," I said. "Medical first. Then we prepare the reception."

Nia looked suspicious. "That was too easy."

"I am growing as a person."

The System chimed.

[Penalty Applied!]

Reason: Host lied about personal growth.]

Penalty: Left shoelace will untie at an inconvenient moment.]

I looked down.

My left shoelace loosened by itself.

I stared at it for a long moment.

Then I looked back at Nia.

"I need new shoes."

Nia rolled her eyes. "You need therapy."

"Shoes first."

Claire picked up the Margot file and tucked it under her arm. As the room began to move again, she stepped beside me, close enough that her voice did not carry.

"You didn’t answer my question earlier."

I kept my eyes on the door. "I know."

"Will you?"

"Eventually."

"That usually means no."

"It means not here."

She studied me for a moment, then nodded once.

Not acceptance.

Patience.

Somehow, that was worse.

We walked out of the operations room together, and for the first time since I had returned, the tower did not feel like a mausoleum full of ghosts. It felt wounded, infected, and dangerous, but alive.

That was enough for now.

Behind us, Marianne Bellamy stared at Margot’s photograph on the wall as if memorizing the face of the woman who had stepped into her home and mistaken her for furniture.

The first thread had become a rope.

Now we just had to see who was holding the other end.