Chapter 5: The Evermore Circle
The Thorne Estate looked less like a mansion and more like a fortress wearing a crown.
Perched high in Lancaster's elite Valmont Hills, its gothic spires rose into the foggy night like spears. Gargoyles lined the balconies, and the golden-lit windows flickered like the eyes of old gods watching from above. A private security detail in tuxedos patrolled the perimeter, but their eyes weren't just for show—they scanned every guest's face, background, and bloodline.
And tonight, Lia Virell was among the guests.
Or rather, Liana Vale was.
Her dress was silver silk, molded perfectly to her figure, with a slit so sharp it could've cut glass. Around her neck shimmered a diamond choker—on loan from a jeweler she seduced over espresso and fake documents. Her lipstick was blood-red. Her heels were sharpened.
She didn't walk in. She arrived.
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Inside, the party was already in full bloom.
Gold-trimmed walls. A live string quartet. Waiters weaving through the crowd with crystal flutes of vintage champagne. Senators. CEOs. Heirs and heiresses. Lancaster's true rulers, veiled in charm and dipped in corruption.
And at the center of it all was the family that tied them together:
The Thornes.
Ancient money. Banking dynasty. Political reach. They didn't run for office—they funded the people who won.
Alaric Thorne, the cold-eyed patriarch, stood near the grand piano, swirling a brandy and whispering into the ear of a defense minister.
His daughter, Celeste Thorne, the real power behind the throne, floated like a queen among sycophants—graceful, poised, terrifyingly intelligent. It was rumored she had three dead ex-fiancés and owned shares in the country's largest surveillance firm.
Lia watched them both from a distance, drink untouched.
Vin Alden—her "date"—stood nearby, already slightly drunk and thoroughly dazzled by her.
"You look like a goddess," he slurred.
"Shhh," she whispered, stroking his arm. "You're not here to talk. You're here to stand and smile."
He nodded, confused but obedient.
Lia scanned the room. The Evermore Circle wasn't a single club or group—it was an ecosystem of power. Banking, defense, real estate, politics, media. The Thornes didn't lead it alone. But they were the heart.
If Alex had the Syndicate to deal with...
This was her battlefield.
She approached Celeste with perfect timing—during a lull in the conversation, with just enough grace to seem accidental.
"Miss Thorne," Lia said with soft reverence. "I've admired your work in foreign development. Especially the Arken loan strategy. Genius, really."
Celeste turned, eyebrows slightly raised. No one outside the inner circle mentioned Arken. That deal had been buried under layers of shell companies and diplomacy.
"And you are?"
"Liana Vale," Lia smiled, offering her hand. "My family deals in Eurasian mineral rights. Monaco-based."
Celeste's fingers brushed hers. She didn't smile—but she didn't walk away either.
"Impressive. Most of your kind arrive here to be noticed. You arrived to watch."
Lia's eyes gleamed. "You can't win the game if you don't first study the board."
A pause. Celeste nodded. "Walk with me."
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As they strolled through a side corridor of the estate, past portraits of dead kings and silent clocks, Celeste spoke quietly.
"You're not who you say you are."
"I never said who I was," Lia replied. "I let others assume."
Celeste smirked. "Clever."
"I hear you're grooming your next husband for politics," Lia said, tilting her head. "That's unfortunate. Most men can barely groom themselves."
Celeste laughed—a rare, genuine sound.
"I like you."
Lia leaned in. "Then tell me—how does one earn a seat at the Circle?"
Celeste's smile vanished. "You don't earn it. You buy it. With something valuable."
"I have connections. Leverage. Information."
Celeste turned, face inches away. "Then give me something tonight. One secret worth protecting, or destroying. Then maybe... I'll show you what lies behind the curtain."
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Elsewhere in the estate, hidden behind a panel door, an old man watched Lia through a camera feed.
"She's dangerous," he muttered.
Alaric Thorne took a sip of brandy and said, "Good. We need more of her kind. Everyone here is too comfortable."
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At midnight, Lia sent a message to Mira Elwood:
"Got inside. She bit the bait. Prepare a controlled leak about the mayor's daughter and the media fund. Only 48 hours of noise—just enough to shake the tree."
Mira replied with a thumbs-up emoji and a red heart.
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Lia stood on the balcony of the Thorne estate, watching the city below glow like fireflies in a glass jar.
She sipped her champagne at last, whispering only to herself:
"Your move, brother."