The coded knock came. Priya’s heart hammered against her ribs as she flew to the door, her earlier poise dissolving into raw, desperate relief. She checked the peephole, saw Chance’s concerned face and the wary young woman behind him, and fumbled the locks open.The moment the door swung inward, Priya didn’t speak. The terror, the grief, the isolation of the last day crashed over her in a wave. She launched herself forward, throwing her arms around Chance’s neck and burying her face against his shoulder. It was less an embrace and more a collapse, a seeking of solid ground in a world that had turned to quicksand.Chance, startled, held her awkwardly for a second before returning the hug, a gesture of comfort. Over her shoulder, he saw Chloe’s expression freeze. A flicker of something hot and sharp—jealousy, possessiveness, hurt—crossed her face before she mastered it, her features settling into a carefully neutral mask. She looked away, studying the ornate molding on the ceiling.Chlo

The drive back to the O’Connor Banks estate was a journey through a world that had subtly, irrevocably changed. Priya sat motionless in the passenger seat, her father’s journal pressed so tightly to her chest it seemed she was trying to merge with it, to absorb its knowledge and its warnings through her skin. She stared out the window, but Chance could tell she wasn’t seeing the city. Chance’s own mind, usually a whirlwind of legal strategy and tactical planning, was a still, cold pool. The monstrous picture was complete, and its scale was paralyzing. The words transformed the case from a desperate defense into a frontline in a war he hadn’t known existed. Saving Julia meant engaging with forces that played with human will like clay and threatened reality itself. The weight of it pressed on his sternum, making it hard to breathe.He pulled up to Chloe’s apartment building. The goodbye was terse, and functional. “Gerald needs to see that journal. First thing.” She had said as she b

Gerald arrived first at the small cafe in one of the hidden neighbourhood, a baseball cap pulled low, the collar of his jacket turned up. Ava followed minutes later, looking like any other exhausted professional with a late-night load of washing. They took adjacent machines, not looking at each other.They had taken the risks of coming out into the public despite everything that was going on around them because they needed clarity and answers to some of the questions that had been bothering Gerald.When the pictures of him and Ava kissing first began to circulate, he didn’t have any insider in mind who could have done something like that to leak those photos until it dawned on him that asides from him, the other person within the CSSA who had access to those photos too was Flynn.Flynn was the one he had paid to take those photos and deliver the pictures to him. So,it could have only been him who had decided to use those pictures against him But on a second thought, he believed Flynn

"Pack a bag," Flynn said, his voice flat with urgency. "One bag. Right now.""Flynn—""Now, Janelle! They could already be coming!" He grabbed his own go-bag, the one he kept for emergencies, and started shoving his laptop and hard drives into it.As she rushed to her room, he pulled out the burner phone Gerald had given him. His hands trembled as he dialed.Gerald answered on the second ring, his voice a low, guarded rasp. "Flynn.""It was Janelle." The words were a punch to his own gut. "She did it. She leaked the photos."A beat of heavy silence on the other end."But listen," Flynn rushed on, his words tumbling over each other. "She didn't do it for herself. She was manipulated and played. Someone got to her, made her believe she was helping, making a difference. She's not a traitor, Gerald. She's a victim who got used."He could hear Ava's voice in the background, a questioning murmur."Who?" Gerald's single word was like ice.Flynn swallowed, the name feeling absurd even now. "C

Chance arrived within forty-five minutes, a hood pulled over his head, his face etched with a new, hardened vigilance. The reunion in the dusty safe house was grim but purposeful. After quick, tense introductions to Flynn and a still-shaken Janelle, Gerald laid out everything.Chance listened, his initial spark of hope solidifying into a cold, focused understanding. “So we have the ‘how’ of the frame,” he summarized. “We have a witness to the digital manipulation,” he nodded to Janelle, who flinched. But to get this in front of a judge, to force a dismissal or even a new investigation…” He trailed off, the old, fundamental problem resurfacing.“We need a lawyer,” he said, the frustration clear in his voice. “A bulldog who can take this pile of… unconventional evidence and make a court eat it. I’ve been trying Clifford Hills. His office says he’s out of the country, unreachable. The old family firm is useless. They’re more worried about their reputation than the truth.”Gerald exhaled