Chapter 4: Tangled Stars
Luna Harper stood in the cramped back room of Stellar Insights, the air thick with the scent of sandalwood incense and the hum of Los Angeles traffic filtering through the open window. The velvet curtain separating the room from the shop swayed gently, catching the glow of a single candle on the table. She'd sent Maya home an hour ago, needing the quiet to focus. The tarot spread before her was a map of chaos: The Tower, The Seven of Swords, and The Moon. Upheaval, betrayal, hidden truths. The cards were screaming, and Luna's gut was screaming louder. Something big was coming for Ethan Caldwell's company, and she was running out of time to prove she could help him stop it.
Her phone buzzed, snapping her out of her trance. A text from Noah Bennett, Ethan's assistant: Caldwell wants you at the office. 10 a.m. tomorrow. Bring your A-game. No crystals. Luna smirked, typing back: No promises on the crystals. She leaned back, her auburn hair catching the candlelight, and traced the edge of The Moon card. Ethan was taking a risk inviting her into his world, but she wasn't naive. He wasn't sold on her gift—he was testing her. And she was ready to pass with flying colors.
The shop door chimed, and Luna tensed, her hand instinctively reaching for the dagger-shaped letter opener on her desk. It was past closing time, and Melrose Avenue wasn't exactly known for late-night stragglers. She parted the curtain, peering into the main room. A woman stood by the counter, her silhouette framed against the neon sign's pink glow. Jessica Lane, the LA Weekly reporter from yesterday, her sleek blazer swapped for a casual denim jacket, but her sharp eyes unmistakable.
"Late for a reading, don't you think?" Luna said, stepping out with a smile that didn't reach her eyes. "Or are you here for round two of your scoop?"
Jessica turned, her expression a mix of curiosity and caution. "No scoop tonight," she said, holding up her hands. "I'm off the clock. That reading you gave me… it hit a nerve. I want to know more." She hesitated, then added, "And maybe I can help you. I've got sources at TechTrend. If you're right about a leak at Caldwell's company, I might know something."
Luna's instincts pinged. Jessica could be an ally, but she could also be a plant—Samantha's posts had made it clear the Caldwell family wasn't above playing dirty. Still, Luna didn't back down from a challenge. "Alright," she said, gesturing to a chair. "Sit. Let's see what the stars say." She shuffled her deck, her movements deliberate, and laid out three cards: The Hermit, The Five of Wands, The Star. "Introspection, conflict, and hope," she said, her voice steady. "You're searching for truth, but you're caught in a fight you don't fully understand. Be careful who you trust, Jessica."
Jessica's eyes widened, but she nodded, scribbling in a small notebook. "Noted. Look, I heard TechTrend's got a mole in Caldwell's inner circle. No names yet, but they're moving fast. If you're meeting Ethan tomorrow, you might want to bring more than cards."
Luna's smile was tight. "Oh, I've got plenty to bring." She walked Jessica to the door, locking it behind her. The reporter's tip confirmed what the cards had shown, but it also raised the stakes. Someone was playing a dangerous game, and Luna was about to step into the lion's den.
Ethan Caldwell stood in his office, the floor-to-ceiling windows framing the Pacific Ocean like a painting he was too distracted to appreciate. The morning sun glinted off the glass, but his focus was on the tablet in his hand, displaying a encrypted email from an anonymous source. Your AI specs are compromised. TechTrend has the blueprint. Check your secure server logs. The timestamp was 2 a.m., and the message had bypassed his usual filters. Ethan's jaw clenched. A leak this big wasn't just a problem—it was a catastrophe. His team had spent two years developing the AI, a predictive model that could revolutionize energy grids. If TechTrend got their hands on it, Caldwell Innovations could lose billions.
He'd called Luna on a hunch, half-expecting her to flake, but her prediction about GreenWave had been too precise to ignore. The woman was either a genius or a grifter, and he needed to know which. His phone buzzed with a text from Samantha: You're really meeting that psychic? Be careful—she's trending for all the wrong reasons. Attached was a link to a new gossip blog post: Luna Harper: Fortune-Teller or Fame-Chaser? Ethan sighed, tossing the phone onto his desk. Samantha's vendetta was becoming a liability, but he couldn't deal with her now. He had a company to save.
Noah poked his head in, his tie still crooked despite Ethan's repeated hints to fix it. "Luna's here," he said, grinning like he was enjoying the chaos. "And, uh, she brought crystals. Big ones."
Ethan's lips twitched, but he kept his face neutral. "Send her in." He straightened his jacket, steeling himself for whatever Luna Harper had up her sleeve. He didn't trust her—not yet—but he couldn't afford to ignore her, either.
Luna walked in, her presence like a gust of wind in the sterile office. She wore a white blouse tucked into high-waisted jeans, her auburn hair loose, and a massive amethyst pendant dangling from her neck. In her hand was a velvet pouch, no doubt stuffed with more of her mystical props. "Nice view," she said, glancing at the ocean before settling her gaze on him. "But I'm guessing you're not here to admire the scenery."
Ethan gestured to a chair across from his desk. "Sit. And skip the theatrics. You said you could help me find a traitor. I'm listening."
Luna didn't sit. She leaned against the edge of his desk, her bangles clinking softly. "Straight to the point. I like that." She pulled a tarot card from her pouch and placed it face-down between them. "But let's get one thing clear: I'm not your employee, and I'm not your enemy. I'm here because we're tied together—by the pact, by fate, whatever you want to call it. You don't have to believe me, but you need to hear me."
Ethan's eyes narrowed, but he nodded. "Fine. Talk."
Luna flipped the card: The Seven of Swords. "Deception," she said, her voice low. "Someone's been accessing your secure servers. Not just once—multiple times. The cards showed me a shadow moving in your inner circle, someone with access to your top projects. They're not just leaking to TechTrend—they're setting you up to take the fall." She paused, watching his reaction. His face was a mask, but his fingers tapped the desk, a tell she didn't miss.
"You're talking about corporate espionage," he said, his tone clipped. "That's a serious accusation. You got names? Evidence? Or is this more of your cosmic guesswork?"
Luna's smile was sharp. "No names yet, but I'm close. The cards don't lie, but they don't spell it out like a PowerPoint slide, either. Let me into your server logs, your team meetings. I'll find your traitor. My gift sees what your firewalls can't."
Ethan leaned back, studying her. She was bold, he'd give her that. And infuriatingly confident, like she already knew the outcome of this chess game. "You're asking for access to proprietary data," he said. "That's not a small ask. Why should I trust you?"
Luna's eyes softened, just for a moment. "Because I'm risking as much as you are. The pact isn't just about your company—it's about my gift, my life. If I don't convince you, I lose everything." She slid the card closer to him. "Take a chance, Ethan. You're a Leo. You're built for bold moves."
He didn't touch the card, but his gaze held hers, the air between them crackling with something he couldn't name. Attraction, maybe, or just the thrill of a challenge. "One condition," he said. "You work with Noah, not me. He'll get you what you need, and you report to him. I don't have time for your… rituals."
Luna grinned, undeterred. "Deal. But don't be surprised if I grow on you." She stood, brushing past him as she headed for the door, her scent—lavender and something earthy—lingering in the air. "See you around, Caldwell."
Samantha Caldwell sat in a sleek coffee shop in Venice Beach, her laptop open to a private chat with her contact, "T." The ocean breeze drifted through the open windows, but her focus was razor-sharp. The leak's live, T typed. Server logs point to an external IP. Looks like Harper's doing if you squint. Samantha's lips curved into a cold smile. She'd paid good money to make sure the trail led to Luna, framing her as the source of the AI specs leak. By the time Ethan figured it out, Luna would be radioactive—untouchable.
Keep pushing, Samantha typed back. And get me dirt on her past. Anything we can use. She closed the laptop, sipping her matcha latte. Luna Harper was a problem, but problems could be solved. Samantha had built her brand on controlling the narrative, and she wasn't about to let a boho psychic steal her spotlight—or her cousin's attention.
That afternoon, Luna sat in a small conference room at Caldwell Innovations, Noah across from her, his tablet stacked with server logs. The room was all glass and chrome, a far cry from her cozy shop, but Luna felt oddly at home. She thrived in chaos, and this place was a pressure cooker. Noah was surprisingly chill for an assistant to a billionaire, his crooked tie and easy grin putting her at ease. "So," he said, sliding the tablet over. "You're supposed to find a traitor in this mess? No offense, but I'm not sure your cards are gonna cut it."
Luna laughed, pulling her deck from her pouch. "Oh, ye of little faith." She shuffled, her hands moving on instinct, and drew three cards: The King of Cups, The Nine of Swords, The Wheel of Fortune. "Emotion, anxiety, and change," she said, her voice steady. "Your traitor's someone who feels loyal but's acting out of fear. Maybe blackmail, maybe desperation. And the wheel's turning—whatever they're planning, it's happening soon."
Noah raised an eyebrow, scribbling notes. "Okay, that's… specific. But how do we narrow it down? We've got fifty people with server access, and Ethan's not exactly Mr. Trusting."
Luna leaned forward, her eyes glinting. "Start with the execs. The cards point to someone high up, someone with emotional ties to Ethan. Cross-check their logins with any unusual activity in the last month. I'll do the rest." She paused, then added, "And keep an eye on Samantha. She's not just throwing shade online—she's got skin in this game."
Noah's grin faded. "You're saying his cousin's involved? That's a bold call."
"Not saying she's the traitor," Luna clarified. "But she's not helping. Trust me."
That evening, Luna stood on her apartment's tiny balcony, the Silver Lake skyline twinkling below. She held a crystal in her hand, its cool weight grounding her as she closed her eyes and let her intuition roam. The pact was heavier now, its pull like a tide she couldn't ignore. She saw flashes—Ethan's face, shadowed by doubt; a document with Caldwell's logo; a woman's silhouette, sharp and calculating. Samantha? Someone else? The vision blurred, but the warning was clear: time was running out.
Her phone buzzed, and she glanced at the screen. An email from Jessica Lane: Found something. Meet me tomorrow, Griffith Park, noon. Come alone. Luna's heart raced. An ally, a trap, or both? She didn't know, but the stars were clear: the next move was hers.