The first winter snow dusted the city, turning the view from Vanessa's penthouse into something out of a painting. But despite the beauty, Ethan could feel the shift in the air—something unsettled, like a storm waiting to break.
It began with a phone call.
Vanessa was in her private study when it came, her voice dropping into that icy register Ethan had learned meant trouble. He lingered by the door, listening.
When she emerged, her face was unreadable.
"Who was it?" he asked.
She poured herself a drink. "An old friend."
"That sounded like more than a friendly call."
Her eyes met his. "It was Caroline."
Ethan's stomach tightened—the ex-lover, the one who had thrown the first dagger at the gala.
"What does she want?"
"She claims she has information that could… 'destroy' us. She wants to meet. Tonight."
Ethan stepped closer. "This is blackmail again."
"Not exactly. She says it's personal."
---
They met Caroline in a dimly lit lounge downtown. She was as poised as ever, in a deep emerald dress that caught the light like temptation itself.
"Vanessa," she purred. "And Ethan. You look… cozy."
"Get to the point," Vanessa said, her tone like cut glass.
Caroline smiled faintly. "The point is, I know what you've been hiding. And I think the world should know too."
Ethan leaned forward. "Everyone already knows."
"Not everything," Caroline said, her gaze locking on Vanessa. "Not about Paris. Not about what happened before you met Ethan."
Vanessa's hand twitched on the table, just enough for Ethan to notice.
"What happened in Paris?" he asked.
Vanessa stood abruptly. "We're leaving."
---
In the car, silence stretched between them. Ethan finally said, "You're keeping something from me."
Her jaw tightened. "We all have our shadows, Ethan."
"Not between us."
She looked out the window, the city lights sliding across her face. "Some truths," she whispered, "could make you hate me."
He reached for her hand. "Then tell me anyway."
But she didn't answer.