Alexandra stopped reacting.
That was how Andre knew something had changed.
She didn't pace. Didn't scan every shadow with frantic precision. Instead, she grew deliberate—quiet in a way that meant calculation, not fear.
"They want movement," she said, standing at the kitchen island with Andre's tablet open. "So we give them structure."
Andre folded his arms. "You're suggesting we let them see us."
"I'm suggesting we control what they see."
She pulled up a city map, fingers gliding across streets and landmarks. "Luca doesn't strike blind. He studies patterns. He waits for comfort."
Andre watched her work, impressed despite himself. "You sound like you've done this before."
"I have," she said. "Just never from this side."
She marked a location: a charity foundation Andre was publicly tied to. High visibility. Controlled access. Familiar territory.
"They'll assume I wouldn't risk you in public again," Alexandra said. "That's exactly why we go."
Andre frowned. "You're baiting him."
"No," she corrected. "I'm baiting his ego."
He studied her face. "And what if he bites?"
"Then we learn," she said simply.
The event was smaller than the gala. Intimate. Influential. The kind of place where secrets hid behind smiles.
Andre entered first, exactly on schedule.
Alexandra followed two steps behind, dressed plainly, hair tied back, expression forgettable by design. She felt eyes on her immediately—not from the crowd, but from somewhere quieter.
Good.
They moved through the room slowly. Andre shook hands. Alexandra watched reflections. Glass told truths people didn't.
At 8:41 p.m., she spotted the signal.
A man near the bar adjusted his cufflink twice.
Alexandra's pulse didn't change.
At 8:43, another guest brushed Andre's shoulder—too deliberate, too controlled.
"Left," Alexandra murmured.
Andre obeyed without hesitation.
That mattered more than she expected.
They reached the balcony doors when a voice drifted through the hum of conversation.
"You always did like exits."
Alexandra turned.
Luca stood near the shadows, hands visible, smile perfectly practiced. Older than she remembered. Thinner. Sharper.
"Hello, Alex," he said.
Andre stiffened beside her.
"You're trespassing," Alexandra replied calmly.
Luca chuckled. "You taught me better than that. I was invited."
"You're not welcome."
"Neither were you," he said gently. "Yet you stayed."
Andre stepped forward. "This ends tonight."
Luca's gaze flicked to him, assessing. "You're not what I expected."
"No," Andre said. "But I'm paying attention."
Luca smiled wider. "That's dangerous."
Security began to shift—Alexandra had arranged that too.
"Why now?" Alexandra asked. "Why him?"
Luca tilted his head. "Because you needed a reason to come back."
"And you needed leverage."
"Correction," Luca said softly. "I needed to see if you'd protect him the way you never protected your father."
The words hit harder than any weapon.
Alexandra didn't move. Didn't blink.
Andre glanced at her sharply—but she didn't give him anything to read.
"You're done," she said.
Luca's eyes gleamed. "No. This is only the first correction."
Security closed in at last. Luca stepped back, retreating into the crowd without resistance.
As he passed Alexandra, he leaned in just enough for her alone to hear.
"You were never meant to inherit," he whispered. "You were meant to absorb the fall."
Then he was gone.
The room resumed breathing. Music swelled. Laughter returned, unaware it had been paused.
Andre turned to her. "What did he mean?"
Alexandra stared at the place Luca had stood.
"He means," she said quietly, "that everything I believed about my past was designed."
Andre felt the weight of that settle between them.
"And now?" he asked.
Alexandra finally looked at him—really looked at him—and something resolute burned behind her eyes.
"Now," she said, "we stop pretending this is just about protecting you."
Because somewhere in the city, Luca was already smiling.
The trap had worked.
Just not the way Alexandra had planned.