“You,” he says with a thin smile. “I almost didn’t notice. Quiet. Polite. Efficient. The kind of person no one watches too closely.” He takes a step toward me. “But it’s always the ones we least expect.”
I say nothing. I don’t trust my voice not to shake.
“Lorenzo, leave her alone.” Mr. Edmond steps to my side. “She’s got nothing to do with this.”
It should make me feel safe. But there’s only one person here I’ve everwantedto trust—and naturally, he comes with alibis and a badge.
Ramirez waves him off. “Don’t insult me, Earl. I’ve known from the beginning that you’d try to protect your son. I even respected it at first. But that’s not why we’re here.” His gaze pierces me. “I expect betrayal from the loud ones. The obvious threats. But you? You were a surprise.”
Edmond turns to me, confused. “What’s he talking about, Cybil?”
Ramirez doesn’t wait. “Italy. You were in my office, going through my paperwork. Your mishap in the village. Maybe it was an innocent accident or maybe you were somewhere you weren’t supposed to be. The roads and traffic can be so dangerous. But then you decided to leave dinner early. And search my office.”
I feel the blood drain from my face.
“And let’s not forget the cocktail party.” His eyes narrow. “It was another surprise to see you talking with a member of the Russian military. Tell me, do you and Milosh Kamarov have a lot in common?”
I keep my eyes on him, my heartbeat loud enough to be its own soundtrack. But I don’t answer. I can’t. Because I don’t know which version of the lie he’ll kill me for first.
Ramirez waits a beat and then sighs. He pulls out a gun with the kind of nonchalance that tells me he’s used it before. “That’s disappointing.”
Nobody moves. The only sound is coming from the clicking of Rook at the laptop as he monitors the bids from criminals ready to buy a war weapon.
The barrel of the gun tilts toward me and I can barely swallow over the tightness in my throat. But I’m not going to let my fear keep me silent. I’m not going to be the victim of anyone else’s betrayal.
“You’re not wrong,” I say. Cool. Or as cool as someone who has a gun pointed at them by a man who thinks selling a mineral to warlords is totally awesome. “Sometimes it’s an unassuming pebble in your shoe that slows your step. A single spark that brings down the house. Or the tiniest tremble in the ocean that becomes a tsunami.”
Ramirez pauses, clearly caught off guard.
I step forward, slow and deliberate. “But you’re aiming at the wrong traitor.”
All eyes snap to me. Including Ben’s.
And I let my gaze slide to him like I’ve connected every last dot. Like I’ve been played—and now I’m done.
“I was trying to dig for information because I knew something was off,” I say, pitching my voice low. Bitter. “He was too perfect. Too polished. The kind of man who knows exactly what to say to make you feellike you’re the only one in the room—until you realize he’s been lying the whole time.”
Ben’s brows pinch. “Cybil—”
“It’s true,” I say, cutting off him off. “I was in your office in Italy. In the village I was following him to find out who he was meeting with, and at the cocktail party I spoke to Milosh Kamarov to find out why Craig Miller was meeting with Olek Radin.”
Mr. Edmond reaches into his pocket, causing Ramirez to swing the gun his direction. He holds up a hand while the other pulls out a folded printout from his coat and tosses it on the table next to the laptop. The photo is grainy, time-stamped, but clear enough.
Craig Miller—Ben—sitting across from Olek Radin.
“Olek Radin is a tech broker tied to dark-net financial platforms,” Mr. Edmond explains. “He’s got a knack for accessing and rerouting digital funds, making money in shell corporations disappear.”
Ramirez frowns and picks up the photo for closer inspection.
“That man”—Mr. Edmond points at the photo—“is talking to the one person standing here with direct access to your crypto wallet. The person who’s been betraying you the whole time.”
Ben looks between us, shock playing out on his features. “This is insane. You’re being fed lies—”
“Then why were you there?” I ask, eyes hard, voice low. “Why did you ask me to meet you in Mr. Ramirez’s office in Italy? You never showed up—because you wanted me to take the fall. You wanted a distraction. You set me up so Mr. Ramirez would watch me—while you slipped out the back with everything.”
A muscle in Ben’s jaw twitches. Just once. He doesn’t speak. Doesn’t defend himself.
But his eyes narrow just enough.
