The club moved with controlled energy, the ambient lighting shifting between deep blues and reds, casting sharp contrasts over the crowded floor. From their secluded VIP section, Elliot, Alexia, Ben, Ava, Myra, and Edward maintained the appearance of a casual night out, but the tension still grew beneath the surface.

Edward, ever the performer, leaned back against the velvet seat, his expression smooth as he sipped his drink. Myra’s gaze flickered between Alexia and Elliot, her eyes lingering just a little too long, reading, assessing.

Alexia noted the subtle way Ben and Ava exchanged glances. A silent language only they understood. They were watching too, tracking every micro-expression, every shift in body language.

Edward exhaled with an easy smile. “Since we’re already here, we might as well enjoy the music,” he said, standing and extending a hand toward Myra.

She hesitated, just for a second, but then took it. “Why not?”

The moment they disappeared onto the dance floor, the atmosphere shifted. Less suffocating, but not free.

Then, as if the night had been waiting for its next disruption, she appeared.

Alexia didn’t recognize her, but the moment the woman approached, something in Elliot changed. It wasn’t obvious—just a fraction of a second where his posture changed before he forced himself back into composure.

Ava noticed. Ben did too.

“Elliot,” the woman purred, stopping just short of their table.

Alexia watched as the woman—blonde, poised, exuding familiarity—gave Elliot a smile that was just a little too practiced.

Elliot didn’t react, didn’t acknowledge her, just let the silence stretch between them.

She was unfazed. “It’s been a while, hasn’t it?”

The tension was subtle, but unmistakable.

Alexia didn’t look at Elliot—she looked at Ava. From that exchange, Alexia realized this was significant. But it wasn’t something either.

Elliot’s voice was flat when he answered. “Not interested, Stacie.”

Alexia glanced back at the woman—Stacie. She didn’t so much as flinch at Elliot’s cold dismissal. If anything, it amused her.

“Oh, you never were,” she mused, voice light, deliberately casual. “But that doesn’t mean I wasn’t useful.”

Alexia’s fingers tightened around her glass. What the hell does that mean?

Ben and Ava weren’t moving, weren’t speaking, but they were absorbing everything.

Before Alexia could question it, before Elliot could shut her down again, Stacie turned and disappeared into the crowd.

A beat of silence.

Elliot exhaled, annoyed. “Let’s go.”

Before anyone could push for more answers, Myra and Edward returned.

If they had noticed anything, they didn’t show it.

Myra’s gaze drifted over them all, as if taking a mental inventory of the shift in energy.

“Leaving so soon?” she asked.

“Yeah. Early morning.”

Edward studied him for a moment. “Pity. We were just getting started.”

“Good to know where everyone stands,” said Myra.

Elliot didn’t entertain it. He was already moving, Alexia, Ben, and Ava following.

As they exited the club, Alexia didn’t bother asking who Stacie was. She knew she’d get her answers soon enough.

Ben and Ava?

They had already decided—this was a security problem now.

The estate was quiet, but tension still lingered in the air as Ben and Ava stepped into Alexia’s suite. Ava walked straight to the desk, pulling up the estate’s surveillance system while Ben shrugged off his jacket.

“Something’s off about her.”

Ava didn’t look up. “Stacie?”

Ben leaned against the desk. “She wasn’t desperate. She wasn’t even trying to make a scene. That wasn’t a woman looking to rekindle something that never existed.”

Ava’s fingers moved across the keyboard, scanning the old security records. “She didn’t act like someone who lost something. She acted like someone who still had unfinished business.”

“That’s what bothers me.”

Ava’s eyes reading the screen, but her mind was elsewhere. A memory surfaced—Anna’s voice from a few days ago.

“She’s different, Ava. I saw it the first day she got here. When Georgia handed her the credit cards and keys Elliot left for her—she barely looked at them. Most women would’ve checked the balance, tested the waters. She didn’t. She just tossed them on the counter like they were receipts. It wasn’t carelessness. It was detachment.”

Anna had been right. Alexia wasn’t like the women who hovered around Elliot, trying to weave themselves into his world through money and influence. She had her own world.

Ava spoke, still processing. “She’s nothing like Stacie.”

The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

“You think she noticed something off about her?”

Ava turned to him. “Noticed? No. But she felt it. She knew something wasn’t right.”

“Tomorrow, we get a name. The real one.”

Ava’s gaze returned to the screen. She pulled up past visitor logs, narrowing the search to five years ago. The system began loading.

“If she was here before,” Ava murmured, watching the records flash across the screen, “she left breadcrumbs. We’ll find them.”

The next morning at 9 am, Elliot sat at the conference table waiting for everyone. This wasn’t a casual morning meeting. This was about control, security, and the unanswered question that had just landed at their doorstep.

Ben and Ava entered and took their seats first. Alexia came in next and sat beside Elliot, her arms resting on the table, but her thoughts elsewhere. Though quiet since last night, she sensed Elliot’s troubled mind from his restless sleep.

Harris and Sarah entered next, followed by Stephen and Anna. Sheila and Taylor arrived, rounding out the trusted circle. No outsiders. No untested loyalties.

Ava spoke first. “Let’s start with the obvious. We have two problems. One is Myra and Edward. The other?” She glanced at Ben, then Elliot. “We might have been focusing on the wrong threat.”

“Explain,” said Elliot.

Ava pulled up the file on the monitor. “Stacie Keystone doesn’t exist. But Stacie Thompson does.”

The room went still.

“She’s a high-end scam artist,” Ava continued. “Well-documented but never convicted. Changes identities, infiltrates high-profile social circles, then disappears when the job is done.”

Elliot didn’t react. Alexia, however, felt the weight of that statement.

Ben glanced at Ava. “And she just showed up last night?”

“That’s the question. Did she show up because of Myra and Edward? Or is she an entirely separate problem?”

Alexia, quiet until now, turned to Elliot. “She tried to get close to you before.” It wasn’t a question.

Elliot’s voice was flat. “She failed.”

“She wasn’t just after your money,” Ben said. “She was after you.”

Elliot exhaled, looking at the screen. “If she’s resurfacing now, it’s not about me. It’s about leverage.”

“She’s testing the waters,” Ava muttered. “Seeing if she can still insert herself somewhere. The timing is too specific.”

“And we still don’t know if she’s working with Myra and Edward, or if they’re two separate betrayals,” said Anna.

No one answered.

Harris cleared his throat, shifting the room’s focus. “Then there’s this.”

He placed the small package on the table. Harris opened it, revealing the simple silver bracelet resting inside.

“That’s mine,” said Alexia.

All eyes turned to her.

“I lost it two weeks ago before moving here.”

Ava leaned forward, picking it up. She pulled out her advanced prototype tracker—a device more sophisticated than the standard model the team already carried. Running it over the bracelet, a soft beep echoed throughout the room.

Ava’s lips pressed into a thin line. “Tracker.”

A pause.

“Well,” Anna said. “That’s interesting.”

“Someone had access to Alexia before she ever set foot in this house,” said Ben.

“Someone has been watching her longer than we realized,” said Ava.

Alexia’s grip tightened around the chair’s edge. “This wasn’t Myra or Edward.”

Anna’s voice was steady. “No. This was something else.”

Ava placed the bracelet inside a signal-blocking case before looking at Elliot. “We need to scan everyone. Every agent, every visitor. Past and present.”

“Start.”

Ben glanced at Alexia before standing. “And we start with the ones who had access to her before she moved in.”

Elliot’s voice cut through the tension, sharp and unwavering. “No more surprises.”

Alexia met his gaze. “I don’t think we have that luxury.”

Ava looked up from her tablet as a light knock sounded on her door. She hadn’t expected company, not after the tense security meeting that morning. Setting the device aside, she called out, “Come in.”

Alexia pushed open the door, hesitating only a fraction before stepping inside. Her expression guarded, but Ava noticed a subtle difference, enough to tell her this wasn’t a casual visit.

Ava motioned toward the chair across from her. “Didn’t expect you to come knocking.”

Alexia didn’t sit right away. She seemed to weigh the space between them, as if testing an invisible line before lowering herself onto the chair. “I need to ask you something.”

“Yes.”

Alexia didn’t dance around it. “How do you and Ben do it? The trust?”

Ava leaned back, letting the question settle. Trust. Not a simple thing to explain, even harder to define. Ava observed Alexia, noticing the tension on her shoulders and how her hands, though loosely clasped, were not relaxed.

“You’re asking the wrong question,” Ava said.

“Then what’s the right one?”

“Are you actually asking about trust, or are you asking how to stop being afraid of it?”

Alexia inhaled, just enough to give her away. She looked down, exhaling before muttering, “Maybe both.”

“Trust isn’t given. It’s tested, broken, and rebuilt. You have to be willing to risk it first.”

Alexia’s fingers tightened. “And if you don’t know how?”

“Then you start by being honest with yourself.” Ava’s voice was steady and unruffled. “What’s holding you back?”

Alexia wanted to say nothing. That she was fine, and it didn’t matter. But those were all lies, and Ava wouldn’t buy them. She exhaled. “Elliot… he makes it impossible to be logical.”

Ava’s lips twitched, but not in amusement. “Then maybe logic isn’t what you need.”

Alexia scoffed. “You sound like Ben.”

Ava shrugged. “He’s right more often than people realize.”

Silence stretched between them, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. She spoke, her voice quieter now.

“Five years ago, he hurt me. And I told myself I didn’t care. That I could hate him if I needed to. But I never could.”

Ava nodded. “You don’t get to rewrite what’s real just because it’s inconvenient.”

Alexia let out a small, frustrated breath. “Then how do I move forward?”

Ava leaned forward. “By deciding if it’s worth it. Not if it’s easy, not if it’s safe—just if it’s worth it.”

Alexia stared at her, and for the first time, she let the truth settle in her chest.

Ava’s voice softened, but there was no pity in it. “Elliot isn’t Ben. Ben and I have a lot in common. We both lost our families early and have no extended families. We developed our trust in different ways. You earn trust, but you must constantly fight to maintain it because it impacts a relationship, as you’re discovering.”

Alexia swallowed, not arguing.

Ava continued, eyes sharp. “Elliot isn’t someone who trusts easily, and neither are you. Trust isn’t the issue here, is it?”

Alexia met her gaze, her voice above a whisper. “No. The problem is, I don’t know if I’m strong enough to risk it.”

Ava studied her for a moment before answering. “Then you have your answer. Because if you weren’t strong enough, you wouldn’t even be asking the question.”

Alexia let out a slow breath, one that carried more than just air.

“You and I are going to get along just fine.”

Alexia let out a small huff of laughter, shaking her head. “That’s what I’m afraid of.”

And just like that, something shifted between them—not formed, but solid enough to hold. Establishing something unspoken. A beginning of a friendship that would alter them both.

Alexia stood in the center of her studio, brush in hand, lost in the rhythm of movement. The canvas before her was alive, not just a painting. The strokes carried weight, emotion, a barely contained electricity beneath the surface.

She was working on the fifth piece for the exhibition, but this one felt different.

Across the estate, in the security room, Ava stood next to Elliot, arms folded as she watched the screen. The screen captured Alexia’s every precise movement of her brush.

“She doesn’t realize how much she says without speaking,” Ava murmured.

Elliot didn’t respond. His eyes remained fixed on the screen.

“You think you know her,” Ava continued, “but you’re still watching from the outside. Always analyzing, always deciding what’s best. But maybe the truth is… she’s stronger than you think.”

Ava turned to leave, stopping just at the door. “Stay a while, Elliot. Watch. Really watch.”

He didn’t answer.

Ava left, her footsteps fading down the hall.

Elliot exhaled and leaned forward, his fingers pressing against the edge of the console. The room was silent except for the soft scratch of bristles on canvas through the speaker feed.

Alexia hadn’t hesitated once. Every stroke of paint was deliberate, intentional.

There was no hesitation. There was no fear. Only her.

And for the first time, Elliot wasn’t sure if he had ever truly seen her.

His fingers hovered over the console. He could turn the feed off. He could walk away.

He didn’t. Instead, he watched with his eyes wide opened.

“The truth is Alexia, you are…” he murmured to himself.