“No? How so?” I asked through gritted teeth, giving the zip ties a small yank.
He sat down in the chair Jack had dragged over, his eyes still stuck on me.
“More ruthless than I would have liked. Still smart at least, and I’ve learned you turned out to be the computer genius we hoped you would be. I only wish it came with more... class.”
“Wow, sorry for the disappointment that I’m not more classy and sophisticated, as I’m here bound and tied to a chair.”
He shrugged. “It really has nothing to do with now. You haven’t really had any class or sophistication ever, from what Jack has told us.”
“How would Jack know?”
“Didn’t he tell you? Or was he just blabbering his mouth about how obsessed he is with you? I am sorry, by the way, when he came to us we thought his obsession with stopping you and being protected would drive him to do the job. We didn’t realize he was going to lose his mind and fall in love with you.”
I didn’t hide my disgust. Jack Anderson was at least twenty years older than me, and those years had not been kind to him.
“I know, I know,” the man said. “I find it repulsive. For you, I mean. I do understand what the appeal is on his end.” He looked me over again, the glint in his eye a little closer to the one Jack had before. “Don’t worry, I don’t get obsessed like that. I prefer the woman obsessed.”
“Could we speed this up?” I asked. “I’d like to know why I’m here in the first place and what you want.”
“Right, right. Of course.” He leaned back in his chair, foldingone ankle over his knee. The casualness of it set my teeth on edge.
“You’re here, Evie, because you’ve been asking too many questions,” he said, like it was obvious. “Sticking your nose where it doesn’t belong.”
I could only shake my head. “Yeah, I’ve heard it before. Should I be honored? You all seem very concerned with me lately. Could we skip to why I’m actually here?”
His lips curved, amused. “That’s because you’ve been digging around your parents, and unfortunately for you, that’s something the Order does care about.”
“But why would the Order care about my parents?”
“You really have no idea, do you?” he mused, shaking his head with a slow, smug grin. “You’ve spent all this time digging, prying into things that should have stayed buried, but you never once thought to turn that little hacker brain of yours on yourself. On your past.”
I didn’t move, didn’t speak. I was too busy trying to keep my pulse steady, my expression unreadable, but I knew—he could see right through me.
“You think you’re some ordinary girl and that’s why we care about you? That your parents were in the wrong place at the wrong time? No, Evie.” His voice dipped lower, crueler. “You were always part of this. From the very beginning.”
I swallowed, forcing the words out. “What are you talking about?”
He sighed, slow and deliberate, like he was dealing with a child. Like I was too naïve to understand. “Your parents came to us. They needed something only we could provide.” He leaned forward, elbows on his knees, eyes locked on me, savoring everysecond. “They wanted a child. After your brother, they couldn’t have more. So we made that happen.”
My stomach twisted. “You’re lying.”
He chuckled, shaking his head. “Why would I lie? You need to know this to understand why I require your help. Your parents didn’t have you. They adopted you. Theystoleyou.”
I felt the words hit me, sharp as a blade to my ribs, but I didn’t let it show.
“I’m not adopted. I’ve seen my birth certificate.”
“The fake one we made? It was done well,” he said proudly. “It wasn’t legal. Not even close. You were orphaned. Left like trash at an orphanage, your name scrubbed, your past erased. No one even wanted you, but your parents didn’t want to wait years for another child. Do you think it was a coincidence that no one ever asked too many questions? That your parents always seemed... on edge? Paranoid?” His grin widened. “It wasn’t paranoia. It was guilt.”
I bit down on my cheek, refusing to give him the reaction he wanted. My mind buzzed, part of me trying to block out the words he was saying and the other part of me knowing it was true.
The way my parents always tensed when someone asked about my childhood, how their smiles tightened, their answers vague and rehearsed. The way they never spoke about their pregnancy with me, brushing past any mention of it like it was something best left buried. The way they constantly looked over their shoulders, always cautious, always watching.
“But guilt only gets you so far,” he continued. “Eventually, the cracks started to show. Loose ends. People looking in places they shouldn’t. Someone may have tipped off authorities that your parents had a child from an illegal adoption. And your parents?They panicked. They knew they were at risk of losing you.” He tilted his head, studying me. “So they came back to us. And we cut them another deal.”
“You did it?”
He smiled, almost proud. “I did. The Order needed more international connections, and your parents could provide that through the art brokerage business.”
