The meeting place was a forgotten observation deck on the roof of a mid-tier hotel, a location Silas had used for dead drops a decade ago. The night air was cool, the city's hum a distant blanket below. Mo Chen stood in the shadows, her heart a frantic drum against her ribs.
Silas materialized from the darkness as if stepping through a veil. He looked older under the weak light, the lines on his face deeper, but his eyes were the same sharp, assessing shards of obsidian.
He didn't speak. He simply held up the burner phone she'd left.
" It's true, Uncle Silas," Mo Chen whispered, the words tumbling out. "Every word. Julian. The Thornes. They're going to cause a gas leak and blow up the estate during the reception. They're going to kill everyone."
Silas's expression didn't change, but the air around him grew colder. "Explain how you know this."
She had prepared for this. She couldn't say she'd lived it. "I couldn't sleep. I was near the west wing two nights ago. I saw them. Julian's men, the ones he insisted on adding to our security detail. They were tampering with the gas pressure regulators. I heard them talking. They said 'the old man wants a clean sweep' and 'the Thornes will finally have the capital to crush their rivals.'"
It was a lie, but it was woven with threads of truth—the location, the method, the Thorne ambition.
Silas was silent for a long time, his gaze boring into her, weighing her story against the image of the "spend-crazy" heiress. "Your recent behavior… the destruction. This is your 'proof'? A nervous breakdown?"
" It's my armor!" she shot back, her voice cracking with a real desperation. "I had to do something, anything, to keep from screaming the truth! I thought if I acted erratically, no one would listen if I did talk, and it would throw them off their game! I'm not breaking down, Uncle Silas, I'm gearing up."
She saw the moment he believed her. It wasn't in a smile or a nod. It was a subtle shift in his stance, a minute relaxing of his jaw. The consummate professional was overriding the skeptical uncle.
" The Thornes have been moving significant capital," he said quietly, as if thinking aloud. "Liquidations. Unexplained wire transfers to shell companies. Your father and brother noted it. They assumed it was for the merger." He looked at her, his eyes now holding a grim respect. "You have your mother's instincts after all."
The relief that washed over her was so profound her knees nearly buckled. "What do we do? We have to tell my parents!"
" No," Silas said, his voice sharp. "If the Thornes have infiltrated us enough to plan this, they have ears everywhere. We tell no one. Not yet. Your parents and brother must act normally, or we spook the snakes and they simply choose another method, another day. We have the advantage of surprise."
" So what's the plan?" Mo Chen asked, her fists clenching.
" We let the wedding happen," Silas said, his voice like gravel. "But we will be ready. We will turn their trap into ours. You will be the bait that doesn't get eaten." He finally looked at the soot under her fingernails, at the new, hard light in her eyes. "And you, little dawn… you will tell me what else you've been doing to 'gear up.'"