Chapter 18: Threads of deception

Aboard Damien's private jet, en route to Tavara

The low hum of the engines buzzed steadily in the background as Damien sat alone in the rear lounge of his private jet. The windows cast a golden glow from the rising sun, but his mind was storming beneath the calm surface.

Across from him lay an open tablet. On the screen was a surveillance photo—grainy, but unmistakable. It was Nora. Standing outside an underground medical facility in Berlin. A place few even knew existed.

He leaned back in his leather seat, fingers tapping rhythmically against his knee. His instincts had always been razor-sharp, but this... this didn't feel like coincidence. Why would the woman he was beginning to fall for be at a location flagged by global intelligence as a possible site for unethical human experimentation?

Damien's encrypted line buzzed. He swiped to answer.

"Sir, we've confirmed the footage. The timestamp matches her visit to Berlin last month."

"Any connections to the Black Veil?" Damien asked, his voice cold.

"Still under investigation. But... there's more. That facility—its funding traces back to a shell corporation owned by the Montcroix Foundation."

Damien froze. The Montcroix Foundation was a name buried deep in classified archives—one linked to illegal bioengineering, genetic experiments, and disappearance of political targets. Only a handful of people alive knew of its existence.

And now Nora was somehow tied to it?

He ended the call and stood, walking over to the bar. Pouring a glass of scotch, he stared at his own reflection in the mirrored surface.

Could he trust her? Or had he been played?

He thought of the night they met—the defiance in her eyes, the strength in her voice. She wasn't like the others. But secrets had a price, and Damien knew too well how betrayal felt when it came from someone you loved.

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Tavara – Imperial Heights Medical Conference

Nora adjusted her coat and stepped out of the sleek car. Cameras flashed, journalists called her name, but she smiled only briefly. Her mind was elsewhere.

She'd received a message that morning—no name, no signature. Just a line:

"They know about Berlin."

Her blood had run cold.

She moved gracefully through the lobby, waving off questions about her keynote speech. Deep inside, she knew this wasn't about medicine anymore. Someone had uncovered a piece of her hidden life. One wrong move and the entire world would know she wasn't just a celebrated doctor.

She was a cultivator. A hacker. A ghost trained to disappear—and eliminate—on command.

As she entered the grand conference hall, her eyes scanned the room. Diplomats. Royal heirs. CEOs. Enemies disguised as allies.

And then she saw him.

Damien.

Their eyes locked, and for a heartbeat, time froze. His gaze was unreadable, like an ocean hiding an undertow. Hers softened, just slightly, before she looked away.

He approached slowly. "Dr. Langston," he greeted, voice even.

"Mr. Steele," she replied. A smile that didn't quite reach her eyes.

"Care to share what took you to Berlin last month?"

The question was sharp. Direct.

Nora raised an eyebrow. "Medical research. Some secrets are worth chasing."

"Secrets," Damien echoed. "Funny. I've always had a taste for them."

Their conversation ended as quickly as it began, interrupted by the emcee calling her to the stage.

As Nora walked up to deliver her speech, Damien's phone buzzed again. A message from his personal security chief.

"Confirmed. Nora Langston once worked under alias 'Astra.' Former member of Ghost Cipher."

His grip tightened on the phone.

She was not just hiding something.

She was hiding everything.

---

[To be continued…]