The Weight of a Lie

The lights of the city blinked like watchful eyes outside Lilith's window, but inside her apartment, a suffocating silence reigned.

She sat on the floor, back against the wall, arms loosely wrapped around her knees. The tension of the past few days had crystallized into something heavier—Victor's warning, the growing sense of being watched, and the weight of a secret that threatened to consume everything she'd tried to rebuild.

She hadn't heard from Arnold since their last encounter. And even though part of her told herself it was for the best, another part felt abandoned, like the one person who might still believe in her had already started to turn away.

Her phone buzzed. Athena.

"You hanging in there?"

"Barely," Lilith replied, then hesitated.

"Arnold?"

"Everything."

She didn't elaborate further. What would be the point? She had long stopped believing she could run from her past, and now, it was clawing its way back in—with Victor Sterling at its helm.

Lilith rose, pacing in the narrow living room. The night felt endless, pressing in from all sides.

Suddenly, a knock.

She froze.

Another knock—gentle, almost casual.

Lilith approached cautiously and peered through the peephole. Two men. Average height, clean clothes, no visible weapons. One held a box in his hands.

"Delivery for Miss Lilith Lane," the man called out, flashing what looked like a courier badge.

She frowned. She hadn't ordered anything.

Still, the fear of appearing paranoid clawed at her. She hesitated... then cracked the door.

That was her mistake.

The first man reached forward, pushing the door wide. A gloved hand wrapped around her arm. She struggled, gasping, but a second later, she was swept off her feet and silenced with chilling precision. They were professionals. Silent. Fast.

Within minutes, Lilith was gone, leaving behind a quiet apartment and a lit candle flickering on the table.

—

She didn't know how long they drove. Time blurred, like the panic fogging her chest. By the time they stopped, she barely recognized the gated compound they'd entered until she was ushered into a familiar hallway—opulence she'd seen once before.

Victor Sterling's penthouse.

She was led into his study and left standing while the door clicked shut behind her.

Victor sat at his desk, the faint glow of city lights reflecting off the steel of his watch as he steepled his fingers and looked up with a slow smile.

"You look well, Lilith."

She didn't reply.

He gestured to the chair across from him. "Sit. You've had a long night."

She stood rigidly, her eyes wary.

Victor leaned back. "You know why you're here."

"I told you I'm done," she said, her voice raw.

"And I told you you're not."

A beat of silence passed before he continued, voice like silk draped over knives.

"I don't care about your regrets, Lilith. But I do care that you're close to Arnold Blaze. That gives you value. A second chance."

She didn't speak, but her chest tightened.

"I'm not asking you to kill anyone," he said, tone almost amused. "I just want what you're good at. Discretion. Access. Disruption. Blaze Enterprises is not invincible. You, of all people, should know how easily a structure can crumble when the right pillar is removed."

She flinched at the memory his words stirred.

Victor stood, approaching her slowly.

"I want internal documents. Passwords. Travel records. Anything I can use to get ahead of him before this merger. You'll find a way to get it to me."

"And if I don't?" she asked, voice low.

Victor tilted his head. "Then I stop being civil."

Her silence was answer enough.

Victor nodded once to his men. "Take her home."

—

When they dropped her off, Lilith didn't cry.

She entered her apartment slowly, locking every bolt behind her. Her hands trembled as she poured a glass of water and sat down at her kitchen table.

The glass shook in her grip.

Victor hadn't hurt her, not physically. But he had thrown her into a choice worse than any pain: betray the man who, for all his coldness, had shown her something dangerously close to care… or risk her life and everything she had left.

She stared at the wall for a long time.

Then, slowly, she picked up her phone and began typing a message.

—

Lucas reviewed the latest security reports from his operatives. The strange man—Specter—had entered the Sterling penthouse again, just hours ago.

Victor was moving quickly. Too quickly.

Lucas tapped his comm. "Arnold?"

The voice on the other end was clipped. "I'm here."

"We were right. The guy tailing us is on Victor's payroll."

Arnold's silence was heavy.

Lucas added, "He left the building less than an hour ago. I think they're planning something. And it's not just corporate espionage. Something personal."

"Lilith?" Arnold said quietly.

Lucas didn't answer. He didn't have to.

Arnold's voice hardened. "I want full surveillance extended to her block. Quiet. I don't want her to know."

"I'll take care of it."

Arnold hung up. He stared out of his office window, the glass cold beneath his palm.

He didn't trust easily. But with Lilith... he wasn't sure if it was trust or just obsession anymore.

And that uncertainty—he couldn't afford it.