Elise's POV
The invitation had been vague—by design.
A single embossed card. No return address. No public listing. Just a date, a time, and the location: The Garden Pavilion, one of Tokyo's most exclusive art venues. She hadn't even known it still operated. It had been closed for years. Renovated. Reimagined. Now, it belonged to the Delacroix family.
Roxanne Delacroix's name wasn't on the invitation. But Elise didn't need confirmation. She knew a summons when she saw one.
And she intended to show up dressed for war.
The car Jessica arranged dropped her at a private side entrance just after 9 p.m. The front of the venue was packed with Tokyo's elite—celebrities, diplomats, and investors all sipping champagne and murmuring about the mysterious curator of tonight's event.
But Elise didn't step into the crowd.
She entered through shadows.
Her red dress shimmered like blood under the moonlight—fitted silk, slit high enough to demand attention, low enough at the back to remind anyone watching that she didn't care if she caused a scene.
She wasn't here to blend in.
She was here to be seen.
A staff member met her in the hallway and said nothing, simply leading her through a back corridor and into a smaller private viewing room. Inside, the lights were low and dramatic, casting long shadows across a series of oil paintings.
One painting in particular made Elise stop cold.
A woman in red.
Standing on the edge of a cliff. Wind in her hair. Hands bleeding.
Her face?
Unmistakably similar to Elise.
Too similar.
"Elise Carter," a voice purred behind her. "In the flesh."
Elise turned slowly.
There she was.
Roxanne Delacroix.
Older than the photograph Elise had seen. Elegant. Striking. Her hair was silver now, but the sharp cheekbones and calculating eyes were the same.
"Ms. Delacroix," Elise said coolly. "Or do you prefer queenmaker?"
Roxanne smiled. "Only on weekends."
They stood in silence for a beat—two wolves circling.
Then Roxanne gestured to the painting. "She's modeled after your grandmother, you know. Evelyn Carter. Back when she still belonged to us."
Elise's blood turned cold. "She was never yours."
"Wasn't she?" Roxanne's tone was light. "We owned the land. The contracts. The votes. Everything but the name."
"And now you want it back?"
"No, darling." Roxanne stepped closer. "Now I want you."
Elise didn't flinch. "To do what?"
"To finish what your grandfather ruined." Roxanne's voice dipped. "To burn Liam Holloway from the inside. And to take your rightful place before Adrian decides he's tired of your rebellion and replaces you."
Elise narrowed her eyes. "I'm not a pawn."
"No," Roxanne agreed. "You're a bomb. The question is—whose fuse is burning faster?"
Adrian's POV
He knew something was wrong the moment he arrived.
The Garden Pavilion was alive with curated opulence. Gold-tier security. Dozens of luxury vehicles lined the front. But the energy? Too curated. Too quiet.
He didn't need an invitation. One word to the valet, and he was inside, moving through the crowds with lethal calm.
"Elise Carter," he asked a staffer quietly.
The man blinked. "Private showing. West Wing."
Adrian's jaw clenched.
By the time he reached the west corridor, he caught the final exchange through the half-open doors:
Roxanne's voice—smooth, dangerous.
"…you're a bomb. The question is—whose fuse is burning faster?"
Then Elise: "I light my own fuses."
Adrian pushed the door open.
"Elise."
Both women turned.
Elise didn't look surprised.
Roxanne looked amused.
"Ah," she said. "The prodigal wolf arrives. A little late to leash your favorite girl, hmm?"
"Elise," Adrian repeated, ignoring Roxanne. "Come with me."
Elise didn't move. Not yet. Her spine was straight, her gaze cool. "Are you here as my partner, or my handler?"
Adrian stepped toward her. "I'm here because you're walking into a firestorm with no exit plan."
"Maybe I am the firestorm."
Roxanne clapped her hands softly. "Beautiful. Tragic. Self-immolating. You two really are well-matched."
"Elise," Adrian said again, softer now. "Don't let her use you to rewrite your past."
"I don't care about my past," Elise said. "I care about the future I've already promised myself."
A beat passed.
Then—finally—Elise stepped back.
She walked toward Adrian, slowly, every movement graceful and defiant. When she reached him, she didn't touch him.
But her eyes did.
And it shook him.
They left together, under the weight of a thousand unsaid things.
Behind them, Roxanne only smiled.
The real game had just begun.