The silence on the jet back from Boston was heavy—not cold, but calculated. Wolfe didn't speak, didn't look at her. But Evelyn could feel his mind racing, planning, restructuring entire futures in real time.
She watched him, curious. Not about his power—she understood that now. She was curious about his fear.
Because beneath all the precision, something in him had cracked.
Back at the tower, the lobby was deserted, the hour creeping toward midnight. Still, Wolfe led her into the elevator like nothing had changed. When they reached the top floor, he paused with his keycard, then turned to her.
"I need to know something," he said.
Evelyn nodded once. "Ask."
"If this burns down—if Rhys turns the board, if I fall—would you stay?"
The question hit harder than it should have. She swallowed.
"Why would you ask that?"
"Because people love the throne," he said. "Until it shakes."
She stepped forward. "I didn't come for the throne."
His eyes flickered. "Then what?"
"The man who built it."
A silence followed—dense, charged, fragile.
But Wolfe only nodded and opened the doors.
---
The next morning, Evelyn was back at her desk before sunrise. She didn't know what last night meant. Not really. But she knew the stakes had changed.
Malik met her in the glass-walled strategy room.
"I found something," he said. "Buried in the communications from Legal. A subdomain routed through Luxembourg. Dead now—but it was active six days ago."
"Who accessed it?"
Malik looked grim. "Wolfe's head of compliance."
Evelyn froze. "Kendra Holt?"
He nodded. "And she wiped her terminal this morning."
Evelyn stood. "She knows we're close."
"She knows you're close."
That's when Evelyn's phone buzzed.
"Meeting. 10 a.m. Boardroom."
She stared at the message.
"Guess I'm not the only one being tested anymore."