The Phantom Heiress And Her Fake Lover

"Come in," a deep, resonant male voice echoed from inside the room.

Elodie pushed the heavy door open and stepped inside.

The Onyx room was darker than the hallway. The walls were painted a matte black. The only source of light was a single, harsh spotlight shining down on a round obsidian table in the center of the room.

A man sat in a leather armchair on the far side of the table, his broad back facing her.

A crystal glass of whiskey sat on the table next to a smoldering cigar.

Elodie let the door click shut behind her. The automatic locks engaged with a heavy thud. The silence in the room was absolute.

She activated the micro-modulator hidden in her throat choker.

"Mr. Bryan," Elodie said. Her voice came out lower, slightly metallic, stripping away her natural cadence. "I am Surety."

The man in the chair went perfectly still.

Elwyn's fingers, which had been resting on the armrest, slowly curled inward.

The voice was altered. He knew tech well enough to hear the modulation. But the underlying tone, the absolute lack of fear in the delivery... it sent a jolt of electricity straight down his spine.

It felt exactly like the phantom presence in his bedroom.

He didn't turn around immediately. He picked up his whiskey glass.

"Scrap briefed you on my requirements?" Elwyn asked, his voice a low rumble.

Elodie walked forward. Her movements were fluid, predatory. She pulled out the chair opposite him and sat down, placing her hands flat on the cold obsidian table.

"He did," Elodie said. "You need a mistress to blow up a marriage contract. I need to hear the details from you."

Her bluntness surprised him. Most people who walked into this room trembled. She sounded bored.

Elwyn slowly turned his chair around.

He leaned forward, resting his forearms on the table. The spotlight illuminated the space between them, leaving both of their faces cast in heavy shadows.

Elodie looked at him.

Her heart violently slammed against her ribs.

Even in the shadows, she recognized the sharp jawline. The intense, dark eyes.

It was Elwyn Lyons IV.

The man she had scanned last night. The boy she had saved ten years ago. Her legal fiancé.

A wave of pure shock crashed over her, threatening to break her composure. Her fingers dug into the edge of the table, her nails biting into the stone.

She forced her breathing to remain steady. She couldn't let him see her panic. She was in the shadows. He couldn't see her face clearly.

Elwyn stared back at her. He saw a woman with flawless pale skin and a sharp, beautiful profile. No birthmark.

A fleeting thought crossed his mind: the Evans daughter could never be someone like this. The dossiers claimed his arranged bride was plain and unremarkable, while the woman sitting before him screamed danger from every perfectly styled strand of hair.

He pushed his suspicion down. It couldn't be the Evans girl. But the energy radiating off this woman was intoxicating.

"My fiancée," Elwyn started, his voice dripping with venom, "is from the Evans family. They are parasites. They sell their own blood for a profit."

Elodie's stomach twisted into a painful knot.

He was talking about her. He was paying ten million dollars to destroy her.

The irony was so sharp it physically hurt. She was sitting across from her fiancé, negotiating the terms of her own public execution.

"I see," Elodie managed to say, her modulated voice hiding the tremor in her throat. "And what exactly do you want me to do?"

Elwyn slid a thick manila folder across the table.

"This is the contract," Elwyn said. "Sign it, and the money is yours. The first installment transfers tonight."

Elodie didn't look at the folder. She kept her eyes locked on his.

"Money isn't the issue," Elodie said coldly. "Why me? There are a hundred women in this city who would gladly play your whore for free."

Elwyn leaned back, a slow, dangerous smile spreading across his face.

"Because Scrap said you never fail," Elwyn murmured. He tilted his head, his eyes burning into hers through the dark. "And because I have a weakness for mysteries. I want to see what you're capable of."

He was testing her. The job wasn't just a transaction; it was a game.

Elodie's blood ran cold. She was playing a very dangerous game with a man who was already hunting her.