CHAPTER 6: A WHISPER IN THE CROWD

Two days later, Liam Feng came to visit.

It wasn't a casual drop-in. It was a scheduled, approved meeting in the main lounge of the penthouse, with Iris the coordinator hovering nearby under the guise of serving tea. Another performance.

Elara's heart was a tangle of suspicion and a desperate, residual hope. This was the boy who had smuggled a burner phone to her. This was also the man whose name was on Kian's guest list, the man who had been ready to drive her to the opera on Kian's orders. Friend or warden?

He looked different. The easy smile he wore in her memories was gone, replaced by a polished, cautious mask that belonged on the heir to the Feng Family Trust. He was dressed in a tailored suit that seemed to constrain him, his posture stiff.

"Elara," he said, his voice smooth. "You look well. The city misses its brightest star."

Empty pleasantries. A script.

"I've been busy," she replied, matching his neutral tone. "The Phoenix Foundation is very demanding."

She watched his eyes for a flicker of recognition at the name, but he gave nothing away. He was a better actor than she remembered.

Iris placed a tray of delicate porcelain cups and a steaming teapot on the table between them. "Mr. Huo requested you have as much time as you need," she said, her smile not reaching her eyes. She retreated to the far side of the room, near the entrance, a silent, blonde sentinel.

Liam picked up his teacup, his movements precise. He took a sip, his gaze fixed on her over the rim. "It's a wonderful initiative," he said, his voice still loud enough for Iris to hear. "A great honor for you. My family's trust is proud to be a founding contributor."

The words were a physical blow. Founding contributor. The Feng family was tied to this. Tied to Phoenix. The burner phone in her room suddenly felt like a trap, not a lifeline. Had he given it to her on Kian's orders, to test her?

A cold knot of betrayal formed in her stomach. She was truly alone.

She was about to deliver a polite, cutting farewell when Liam placed his cup back on the saucer. His thumb, hidden from Iris's line of sight, brushed against a small, silver sugar spoon next to his plate.

He tapped it.

Once. Twice.

Her breath caught. It was a code they'd invented as children, playing spies in the gardens of her family's old estate. Two taps. *I have a secret.*

He picked up a small sugar cube with a pair of silver tongs, his movements relaxed. As he dropped it into his tea, his voice remained pleasant, conversational.

"The architecture of this place is stunning," he said, gesturing vaguely at the room. "All glass and open space. But the acoustics are terrible. Everything echoes."

He was talking about surveillance. About being overheard.

Her mind raced. How could they talk? She looked at Iris, then back at Liam. He stirred his tea, his eyes meeting hers again. He gave a tiny, almost perceptible nod towards the large, abstract painting on the wall behind him. It was a chaotic swirl of blues and blacks, a gift from Kian.

She stood up. "Would you care for a tour, Liam?" she asked, her voice light. "The art collection is quite extensive."

She led him towards the painting, her heart pounding a frantic rhythm against her ribs. Iris shifted her weight but remained by the door. As long as they were in sight, the protocol was being followed.

They stood before the massive canvas. Liam leaned in, feigning a deep interest in the artist's brushstrokes.

"My father is sick," he whispered, his voice so low it was barely a breath against the ambient hum of the penthouse. "He's afraid. He and Kian's father... they started this thing together, years ago. With your mother."

The world tilted again. Her mother. A willing partner?

"It wasn't supposed to be like this," Liam continued, his eyes still on the painting. "It was supposed to be about potential. Pushing boundaries. But after your mother... after the accident... Kian's father twisted it. Seraphina perfected it. They turned a research project into a weapon."

His words were a chaotic rush of information, confirming her worst fears.

"Why are you telling me this?" she whispered back, her own voice trembling.

"Because my father made a deal to save our company. Kian is making deals to protect you in his own twisted way. My family is trapped. You are trapped. We are all caught in their waltz." He finally looked at her, his eyes filled with a genuine, desperate conflict. "There's a gala. November 12th. The foundation's launch. All the players will be there. Find a way to get to the hotel's server room. The security chief is a man named Nico Ren. He owes my family a debt."

He straightened up, his public mask sliding back into place as Iris took a step forward.

"A truly fascinating piece," Liam said aloud, turning to face her. "Thank you for the tour, Elara. I'll see you at the gala."

He gave her a polite nod, turned, and walked away, leaving her standing in front of a painting of a storm, her mind reeling.

He wasn't a friend. He wasn't a warden. He was something far more complicated.

He was a fellow prisoner.

And he had just given her a key.