Sarah's smile didn't fade. "Then I suppose you'll get to see how expensive defiance can be." She reached across the desk, collected the flash drive again, and slipped it back into her folder. "Two weeks. If I don't hear from you by then, I send the files to the board, the SEC, and a few very curious journalists I've been drinking with."

"You're bluffing," I said.

She met my eyes. "Try me."

The room went still. Rain ticked against the glass again, faint and rhythmic. I could feel my pulse in my throat.

Finally, Sarah stood, smoothing her skirt. "I do hope we find common ground, Ms. Nolin. I always preferred cooperation over chaos." She gave a tight smile. "Pleasure seeing you again, Evan."

I didn't answer. Just stared as she turned and walked to the door, heels echoing against the marble floor.

When the door clicked shut behind her, the air finally moved again. I got up, hands in my pockets, pacing once before stopping by the window. I pressed a hand against the glass, watched the city through the streaks of rain.

"Damn it," I muttered. "She's not bluffing."

Nala stayed silent for a moment, eyes on the desk. Then, in that same even tone: "What did you learn from Eleanor?"

I turned. "That Guy used to spend a lot of time with two women. Charlotte and someone named Emilia. Might be something."

Nala nodded slowly. "I know the place. It's underground. Private security runs it like a vault. Be careful."

"I'll manage."

"Do more than manage," she said, finally looking at me. "If Guy left anything behind, it'll be through people who thought they were disposable."

I nodded once. "Got it."

❤︎‬‪‪❤︎‬‪‪❤︎

Stingy Ladies.

The place looked half-asleep under the morning sun. A faded pink neon sign buzzed above the double doors, the "S" flickering like it was on its last breath. The remnants of last night's glitter still sparkled on the floor.

No line. No bouncer. Just a cracked sidewalk and the faint smell of spilled vodka and lemon cleaner.

I pushed through the doors.

Inside was a ghost town. Tables wiped down, chairs stacked. A janitor in gray coveralls pushed a mop in lazy circles, humming off-key. Bass-heavy music leaked from hidden speakers at low volume. The stage lights were off; only the bar's under-counter LEDs glowed purple and blue.

I walked straight to the bar.

Behind it, a woman with fire-engine-red hair tied in a messy knot wiped the counter with a gray rag. Tank top, black, cut high enough to show smooth, shaved armpits that flexed every time she scrubbed. Mean green eyes flicked up and locked on me.

"We're closed," she said, voice flat. "Open at six, man."

"I know," I said. "I'm looking for Charlotte and Emilia. You know them?"

"Char and Em?" She tossed the rag aside, leaned both palms on the counter. Her tank gaped just enough to flash the edge of a black lace bra. "What for?"

"Business."

"What kind?"

"The kind where all three of us walk away smiling," I said. "Important."

She studied me, lips pursed. "Mm. Don't know them."

╭────────────────────╮

- Quest Available

==========================

- Title: Char and Em

- Task: Persuade her into talking.

- Reward: 1 Mastery Point

==========================

- Accept Quest? [Yes] [No]

╰────────────────────╯

I accepted mentally. Honeyed Words, again, huh? She had to be one of them—Charlotte or Emilia. No way a random bartender stonewalled this hard.

╭────────────────────╮

Persuasion Attempt: Stranger

==========================

☐☐☐☐☐

==========================

Remaining Chances: 0/2

╰────────────────────╯

Damn, this one had more boxes to fill, and only two chances to get it right. I had to take the riskier options in each dialogue, but if I'd leveled up my charm, maybe it would've been easier… ah, fuck it, no regrets. Honestly, I was happy with my Pleasure skill hitting level twenty

╭────────────────────╮

Attempting Persuasion

==========================

"Something tells me you are either

Char or Em. Which one?

==========================

Base Chance: 20%

Honeyed Words: +30%

==========================

Final Chance: 50%

Upon Succeeding: ☑☑

▶ Proceed with Persuasion? [Y/N]

╰────────────────────╯

"Something tells me you're either Char or Em. Which one?"

"No idea what you're talking about."

╭────────────────────╮

Persuasion Attempt: Stranger

==========================

☒☐☐☐☐

==========================

Remaining Chances: Failure

╰────────────────────╯

Shit. Base chance too low. Needed more Charm to juice Honeyed Words. The system auto-failed the attempt. Five boxes, two shots, and the riskiest option only filled two. Fuck.

"I think you should leave," she said.

"Hmm…" I nodded, locking eyes. "Your loss. Don't come crying when Guy comes crashing down on you."

"What?"

"Have a nice day."

I turned and walked toward the exit. Three steps in, she exhaled hard.

"Stop."

I paused, glanced back. She looked cornered, towel clenched in her fist.

"I'm Charlotte," she muttered. "What happened with Guy?"

I walked back, slid onto a stool. "Bad things."

"What kind of bad things?"

"What do you know about the Meridian deal?" I countered.

"Meridian?" Her eyes narrowed. "How do you know about that? You work at TechForge?"

"No questions with questions. Meridian deal. Talk."

She rubbed her face, sighed. "It was rotten from the start. He bragged he forced his sister to sign. Said she had no choice."

"Hmm." I nodded. "What else did he tell you?"

"About Meridian?"

"In general. I need dirt on Guy. I was told you or Emilia had it."

She stared, lips tight, then shook her head and grabbed the towel again, scrubbing the same spot. Something was eating her alive.

"Tell me, Char. You won't regret it."

"No way. He'd actually kill me."

"Come on. Nothing like that'll happen."

"You don't know Guy, friend. He'd end your life for stepping on his shoe. No way."

"Come on…" I muttered. "Guy's not even here. Haven't you heard the news?"

"Nala's the new CEO, yeah," she said. "But I don't know where he is. He won't pick up. Changed his numbers, probably."

"Just tell me. What do you know about Guy Nolin?"

"Jesus, just… who the hell even are you?"

"No one," I said. "Talk."

"No way. Get out. I'm done."

"Cha—"

"No. Get out."

╭────────────────────╮

- Quest Failed

- Title: Char and Em

- Reward: 1 Mastery Point

╰────────────────────╯

Damn it. If I had a few more points in Charm, maybe I could've convinced her to talk. But... whatever. It wasn't a total loss. At least I learned she had something on him. That was a lead, at least. Now I just needed to figure out what it was—and get my hands on some evidence. I'd have to circle back here later and try again. Hopefully, I'd be better prepared next time.

"Fine," I said. "Your loss, Charlotte."

"Fuck off."

I nodded, hopped off the stool, and headed for the exit. Shit—when was I finally going to get rid of this idiot? I still had that video—the body cam footage from the officer, the one showing how they found the USB stick in his safe, full of those vile recordings. It was enough to bury him. But that damn woman, Anotta, wasn't letting me use it as leverage. She enjoyed watching me struggle. Watching me crawl.

Rich people. Freaking weirdos.

Outside, I pulled my phone. Two texts from Ivy.

'Hey, come to breakfast today.'

Another one.

'Ten thirty. You have thirty minutes or I'll eat your egg and bacon. Chop chop.'

I grinned, pocketed it. Already ate, but I could eat again.

❤︎‬‪‪❤︎‬‪‪❤︎

I knocked twice. The door opened almost immediately.

Delilah stood there in a soft gray sundress that hugged her curves just right, hair loose and wavy, cheeks flushed from the stove. "Hey, stranger," she murmured, stepping aside with a playful smile. "Come in."

I slipped past her, close enough to catch the scent of vanilla on her skin and the faint heat radiating from her body. Ivy was already in the kitchen, stretching up to grab plates from the top shelf, her back turned to us. Perfect.

I hooked an arm around Delilah's waist, yanked her flush against me, and kissed her hard—deep, hungry, one hand sliding down to grab a firm handful of her ass through the thin fabric. She squeaked into my mouth, a surprised little sound that turned into a muffled laugh. She swatted my chest lightly, pulling back just enough to whisper, "Evan, stop—Ivy's right there," her eyes sparkling with mischief and warning.

"Evan?" Ivy called, plates clattering as she turned around, oblivious. "Welcome."

"Hey, morning," I said, strolling into the kitchen like I hadn't just groped her mom. "How are you?"

"I'm good." She set the plates down with a soft clink, glancing at Delilah, who was calmly arranging forks on the table. "Thanks for checking on her last night. Really."

"No problem," I said, sliding into a chair. "Always."

We settled at the small round table—me on one side, Ivy directly opposite, Delilah between us like a referee in a game neither of us knew we were playing. Sunlight streamed through the window, casting golden patches on the checkered tablecloth. Bacon sizzled faintly in the background, coffee steamed in mismatched mugs, and the whole scene screamed domestic. Normal. Safe.

Dangerous as hell.

Delilah's bare foot brushed my ankle under the table.

I froze mid-sip of orange juice.

She didn't.

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