THE VALE'S ESTATE

I had no intention of accepting the invitation.

When Lila slid it across the table, nestled in a blush pink envelope with gold trim, I smiled politely and said, "I'll think about it."

But I was already saying yes.

A weekend at the Vale estate meant access. Files. Faces. Weaknesses.

And it meant getting closer to Caleb.

The car ride was long, filled with meaningless chatter from Lila, Chloe, and another girl whose name I didn't bother remembering. They laughed, scrolled through their phones, and talked about boys.

I stared out the window.

The Vale estate loomed in the distance modern, minimalist, and colder than I expected. Steel, glass, and stone. No warmth. No welcome.

Fitting.

Desmond Vale, Caleb's father, had once shaken my father's hand and promised loyalty.

Then turned around and funded his death.

Now, I was sleeping under his roof.

"Try not to get lost," Caleb said as he passed me in the foyer. "This place eats first-timers alive."

I smirked. "Good thing I bite back."

He stopped, turned, and studied me. "You really don't scare easy, do you?"

"No," I said. "But I do scare others."

He smiled. Not playful. Not cruel. Just curious.

Like he wanted to figure out what kind of monster I was.

Desmond was never a leader. He was the quiet investor, the man who paid others to get blood on their hands. He had built an empire from silence and well-placed threats. According to Genevieve's files, he only agreed to the assassination out of fear, fear that my parents would expose him.

His sin wasn't greed.

It was cowardice.

And cowards die screaming.

The dinner that night was formal.

Desmond sat at the head of the table, eyes sharp and unreadable. Caleb sat to his right, expression closed off.

I was seated across from Caleb. Strategic.

"Miss Monroe," Desmond said, his voice smooth. "I hear you're quite the rising star."

I smiled. "I try."

"And your parents?"

I met his gaze head on. "Dead."

The table went silent.

I sipped my water. "Car crash in the Alps. Very sudden."

Desmond nodded slowly. "My condolences."

"I doubt you mean that," I said softly.

He blinked.

Lila laughed nervously. "Ava has a dark sense of humor."

"I like the dark," I said, holding Desmond's gaze.

Later, I wandered the halls while the others watched a movie in the theater wing.

Desmond's study was locked.

Of course.

But I wasn't new at this.

I picked it quietly, slipped inside, and began scanning the room. His desk was spotless. The drawers? Less so. Financial records. Company mergers. Political donations. Then I found it a hidden panel behind a bookshelf.

Inside was a wall safe.

Fingerprint locked.

I stared at it. Noted the brand. Took pictures.

Then I heard footsteps.

I slipped out the back exit and into the wine cellar.

And came face to face with Caleb.

"Looking for something?" he asked, arms crossed.

"Wine," I said coolly.

"Wrong section."

I stepped closer. "You always stalk guests in the dark?"

"Only the ones who break into rooms they shouldn't know exist."

I smiled. "Maybe I just like secrets."

He moved closer too. "Or maybe you are one."

The silence stretched. His eyes searched mine.

Dangerous. Too close.

Then he stepped aside. "Be careful, Ava. My father doesn't like surprises."

"Neither do I."

That night, I stared at the ceiling of the guest room, heart pounding.

Caleb knew too much.

And yet, a part of me didn't want to run from him.

A part of me wanted him to keep looking.

Because the more he searched for Ava Monroe…

The more he might uncover Ayla Everett.

And if he did?

I might have to kill him.

Even if part of me didn't want to.

Not yet.