Maria's apartment was the exact opposite of the Sterling mansion. It was all warm light, mismatched furniture, and the smell of coffee and baked bread. It should have felt safe. To Eva, it felt like a waiting room.
She'd slept for twelve hours straight, a dead, dreamless sleep that felt like being underwater. When she woke up on the second day, the quiet peace of the place was starting to itch under her skin. The giddy high of escape was gone, replaced by a grinding, restless energy. Every minute spent on Maria's comfortable couch felt like a minute her family was getting stronger.
"You're pacing," Maria said from the kitchen table, not looking up from her laptop. "You're gonna wear a hole in my rug. Then I'll have to add it to your tab."
Eva forced herself to stop, leaning against the doorframe. "Sorry. I just feel… I don't know. Useless."
"You're not useless. You're gathering intel." Maria finally looked up, pushing her glasses up on her head. "You can't charge into a dragon's lair without a map. You'll just get roasted. So. We map."
She gestured for Eva to sit. On the screen was a complex web of names, companies, and financial data. It looked like chaos.
"This," Maria said, pointing at the screen, "is what we know. The public face of Leonard Cruz. Cruz Tech. The charity work. The boring stuff."
Eva stared at the screen, her heart sinking. "This is impossible. He's a ghost. How are we supposed to find a way in?"
"We don't find a way in," Maria said, a sly smile touching her lips. She closed the window, opening a new, much simpler file. It was a list of names, addresses, and dates. "We will get an invitation."
Eva leaned closer. "What is this?"
"The guest list for the Vandergriff gala. The one your family was so desperate to take you to." Maria's smile turned sharp. "Turns out, I have a friend who does their floral arrangements. And their friend does the seating charts. Leonard Cruz is confirmed. Table one, of course."
The air left Eva's lungs in a rush. The gala. It was in three days. The event that had started all this. The irony was so thick she could taste it.
"I can't go there," Eva breathed. "My parents… Tyler… they'll be there. They'll have me thrown out."
"They can't throw you out if you have an invite," Maria said smoothly. "My friend got us two. We're her plus-ones. We're 'industry colleagues.'" She made air quotes with her fingers. "We'll be invisible. Catering staff. Nobody looks at the help."
The plan was insane. Audacious. To walk right back into the lion's den, disguised as a mouse.
"And then what?" Eva asked, her voice barely a whisper. "I just… walk up to him? During dinner?"
"God, no," Maria laughed. "That's a great way to get tackled by a security detail that's smoother than butter. No. We watch. We learn his rhythms. We find a crack. A moment when he's alone. In a hallway. On a balcony. Somewhere semi-private. That's when you make your move. You get sixty seconds. That's it. You have one minute to say something so interesting he doesn't immediately call security."
Sixty seconds. To change her entire life. The pressure was a physical weight on her chest.
"What do I even say?" The old fear, the feeling of being stupid and small, crept back in. "Hi, I'm Eva Sterling, my family sucks, wanna be besties?"
Maria didn't laugh. She got up and went to a drawer, pulling out a small, black notebook and tossing it on the table in front of Eva.
"You don't talk about your family," Maria said, her voice low and serious. "You talk about his. You open that."
Eva picked up the notebook. The pages were filled with Maria's tight, neat handwriting. It was a dossier. On Alexander Cruz.
It wasn't gossip. It was a timeline. Dates, names of women, amounts of money paid to them, links to shady business deals that had been quietly settled. It was a detailed, ugly picture of the boy she'd almost married, painted in cold, hard facts.
"He's his uncle's biggest weakness," Maria said, watching her. "His biggest embarrassment. The spoiled heir who's a walking, talking liability. Leonard has spent a fortune cleaning up his messes. You offer him the one thing he can't buy: a permanent solution to his nephew's problem. You offer to be the reason Alexander loses all his power and gets cut off for good."
Eva looked from the damning pages in her hand to her aunt's fierce, determined face. This wasn't a theory anymore. This was a weapon. A real, tangible thing she could hold.
She wasn't just an angry girl with a plan anymore. She was holding the first bullet.
"We have three days," Maria said, sitting back down. "We need to get you a uniform. And you need to memorize every single word of that book. Your sixty seconds have to be perfect."
The restless energy was gone. Now, there was only a cold, sharp focus. The quiet apartment was no longer a waiting room. It was a war room.
Eva opened the notebook and began to read.
Three days later, she stood in a cramped staff bathroom at the Vandergriff estate, staring at her reflection in the mirror. She was wearing a stark black-and-white server's uniform. It itched. Her hair was pulled back in a severe bun that gave her a headache.
She looked nothing like herself. She looked invisible.
Through the door, she could hear the muffled sounds of the party. The clink of glasses, the swell of orchestra music, the low hum of wealthy, powerful people talking about nothing. Her people. Just on the other side of the door.
Her hands were ice-cold. She felt like she might be sick.
You've already died once. What's the worst that can happen?
The thought was a jolt. Right. This was nothing.
She took a deep breath, squaring her shoulders. She met her own eyes in the mirror. The eyes of the girl who had died. The eyes of the weapon being forged.
She pushed the bathroom door open and stepped into the hallway, immediately blending into the flow of other staff carrying trays of champagne.
The ballroom was a glittering nightmare of everything she'd hated about her old life. And there, at the center of it all, holding court at Table One, was her family. Her mother's tinkling laugh cut through the air. Her father's proud smile. Tyler, dazzling and sharp, already working the room.
And then she saw him.
Leonard Cruz.
He wasn't what she expected. He wasn't a cartoon villain. He was… quiet. Still. He sat at the head of the table, not speaking much, just watching. His eyes scanned the room, missing nothing. He was like a rock in a rushing river, letting the chaos flow around him. He was younger than her father, but he had an old power that made everyone else seem like children playing dress-up.
Her mouth went dry. This was a mistake. He was too much. She was a fool to think—
Her eyes landed on Alexander, sitting to his uncle's right. He was laughing too loud, slapping a friend on the back, already drunk. He looked exactly like the boy in the notebook. A handsome, empty shell.
The fear evaporated, burned away by a fresh wave of that cold, dead rage.
She knew what she had to do.
She waited. She served drinks. She kept her head down. She watched Leonard Cruz like a hawk. She saw him finally excuse himself, nodding to his security detail to stay put as he walked toward a secluded balcony for a moment of quiet.
This was it. Her crack.
Her sixty seconds started now.
She picked up a tray of empty champagne flutes—a perfect excuse to be heading toward the kitchen—and followed him.
The hallway to the balcony was dim and empty. He was standing with his back to her, looking out at the city lights, his shoulders tense.
Eva let the kitchen door swing shut behind her, the sound making him turn around.
His eyes, a cool, piercing gaze landed on her. They held no recognition. Just the mild impatience of a man interrupted.
She opened her mouth, her heart hammering against her ribs so hard she was sure he could hear it.
The first words of her perfectly rehearsed speech vanished from her brain.
All that came out was a shaky, raw whisper.
"I can give you Alexander."
Of course. Here is Chapter 6, picking up from the cliffhanger of Chapter 5 and diving into the first, crucial interaction.