“It’s changed,” I admit. “What started as protection became something else. She’s mine now—not as asset or strategy, but as deliberate choice. I won’t apologize for protecting what’s mine.”
Pavel studies me for a long moment, his expression unreadable. “You’re aware this makes her a permanent vulnerability. That enemies will use her to leverage you. That every decision you make from this point forward carries the weight of keeping her safe.”
“I’m aware.”
“So you’re willing to accept those consequences?”
“Yes.”
He exhales slowly, leaning back in his chair. “Then I hope she’s worth what this will cost. Because Sartore won’t stop escalating, and the council won’t tolerate indefinite resource allocation for personal attachment.”
“She’s worth it.” The certainty feels absolute. “I’ll handle the council.”
Pavel stands, moving toward the door. He pauses at the threshold, glancing back with something that might be concern or resignation.
“Don’t let devotion become blindness, Felix. Men who care too much make mistakes they can’t recover from.”
He leaves before I can respond.
Chapter Eighteen - Diana
Felix leaves for meetings just after nine, the black SUV disappearing through the estate gates while I watch from the bedroom window. The house settles into quiet routine—household staff moving through their schedules, guards rotating positions, the controlled rhythm of a world that operates according to Felix’s precise specifications.
I have full access now. The invitation lingers in my mind as I move through the morning. I spend an hour in the library, attempting to focus on a book I can’t absorb. The words blur together, my attention circling back to the filing cabinets in Felix’s office, the locked drawers I’ve seen him access with keys he keeps on a chain separate from everything else.
By eleven, I’ve abandoned pretense. I slip into his office, closing the door behind me with a soft click that feels too loud in the silence. The room smells like him—expensive cologne layered with the faint scent of whiskey and leather. His desk is precisely organized, dual monitors in sleep mode, papers stacked with edges aligned.
I move to the filing cabinets first, testing drawers I know will be locked. They are, unsurprisingly. Felix is methodical in ways that create patterns, and I’ve watched him long enough to recognize them. He keeps the key chain in his desk drawer—the one that requires a combination I’ve seen him enter three times.
Right 22. Left 15. Right 8.
The drawer opens.
Inside, beneath routine office supplies and a handgun I don’t touch, sits a small leather case containing keys organized by size. I try the third one on the filing cabinet lock.
It turns smoothly.
The drawer slides open, revealing folders organized with the same precision as everything else Felix controls. Coded labels, color-coded tabs, subdivisions that mean nothing to me without context. I pull the first folder and flip through—shipment manifests, tracking numbers, nothing immediately incriminating.
The second folder contains financial reports. The third, encrypted communications I can’t access without passwords.
The fourth folder sits at the back of the drawer, labeled only with a date range:March-May.
I recognize the timeline immediately. Ethan died in April. Whatever’s in this folder spans the weeks before and after his death.
My hands shake slightly as I pull it free and carry it to Felix’s desk. The folder is thicker than I expected, stuffed with printed emails, handwritten notes, and what looks like risk assessment reports.
I open it.
The first document is an email exchange between Felix and someone identified only as “LS”—Lorenzo Sartore, almost certainly. The date is three weeks before Ethan’s crash.
LS: Clarke is becoming problematic. His investigation has connected maritime logistics to campaign contributions in ways that threaten exposure for both organizations. We’ve offered substantial compensation for discontinuation. He refused.
FR: What’s your timeline for escalation?
LS: Immediate if he proceeds with publication. We can’t allow the routing maps to surface publicly. Too many connections to sitting senators.
FR: Understood. Keep me informed of developments.
