Alexander didn't trust easily.
That was by design.
He was raised in a world where kindness was a tactic and truth wore disguises. But somehow, Yuna had slipped through his defenses—not with softness, but with fire. With her refusal to break.
But now?
Now he stared at a file.
Delivered anonymously to the Wolfe Tower's encrypted inbox.
Flagged URGENT.
It bore one title:
> OPERATION GLASS DOVE
– Confidential Memorandum –
Requested by Yuna Eastin to Victor Eastin
Subject: Elimination of Alexander Wolfe
He read it three times.
The date was seven years ago.
A week after his mother's company collapsed.
The language was clinical. Cold. Precise.
> "Subject is emotionally volatile, publicly disruptive, and threatening to the Eastin investment portfolio via exposure of financial crimes. Recommended response: neutralize through legal pressure or character defamation. As a last resort, eliminate."
At the bottom:
Yuna's signature.
Slanted. Sharp.
Alexander's chest felt tight.
He set the file down.
Stood.
And for the first time since this war began, he didn't know what to feel.
Yuna sat in the private sunroom, scanning press coverage of their fake Italy wedding.
The internet was spiralling.
Fan accounts. Hashtags. Tabloid analysis.
For the first time in weeks, she felt one step ahead.
Then Alexander walked in.
Face like granite. Eyes unreadable.
She looked up. Smiled.
The smile died instantly.
"What happened?" she asked.
He tossed the file onto the coffee table.
"I got a wedding present."
She picked it up, brows furrowed
Read the title.
And froze.
Every cell in her body turned to ice.
"No," she whispered. "No, this isn't real—this is doctored—"
"I thought so too," Alexander said. "But the metadata checks out. The encryption matches Eastin Holdings' archived systems. And the signature? Yours."
Yuna's voice trembled. "I never signed this. I don't even remember—"
"You requested a hit on me?" he asked, voice low. "When we were kids?"
"No," she said again, louder. "You need to believe me—this isn't what it looks like—"
"Then what is it, Yuna?"
She opened her mouth.
Closed it.
Because the memory was foggy.
Seven years ago, everything shattered. Her mind, her body, her sense of time. There were blank spaces in her memory. Missing hours. Missing days.
"I don't know," she admitted. "But this isn't me."
"Then who is it?"
Across the city, in a private luxury suite, Elsa watched the surveillance feed from Wolfe Tower.
Audio tapped. Zoomed in.
Yuna's voice trembled. Alexander is growing edge.
Perfect.
She sipped her wine, legs crossed on a satin chaise lounge, flanked by David and Austin.
"Phase two is complete," Austin said, his tablet blinking.
David looked up. "You're really sure about burning your sister to the ground?"
Elsa turned slowly.
"There's no ground left. She took it all when she embarrassed me in front of the world."
Austin nodded. "The file traced directly to Yuna's private hospital archive. We dropped it where Wolfe's team would find it. Even if she didn't sign it, the damage is done."
David added, "You do realize Wolfe might retaliate, right? If he doesn't believe it."
"Oh," Elsa smiled coldly, "he will. Because it's not just the file that ruins her."
She tapped her phone and played a recorded clip.
Yuna. Crying. Desperate.
> "I hate him. I wish he'd disappear. I wish someone would just—just make him vanish…"
David arched an eyebrow. "That's… convincing."
"It's real," Elsa said. "From a psychiatric evaluation. Drugged and unstable. She doesn't even remember saying it."
Austin leaned back, quiet.
"Good work," Elsa said.
He nodded slowly.
But behind his eyes, a seed of doubt flickered.
Back at Wolfe Tower, Yuna sat on the edge of the sofa, head in her hands.
"I was drugged back then," she mumbled. "After the hospital. My father had doctors on his payroll. I was slipping in and out of consciousness for days. I don't even remember what I signed."
Alexander stood at the far window.
Silent.
Still.
Not angry—just unreadable.
"I didn't want you dead," she said, standing. "I didn't even know you yet."
"Then why is your name on the request?"
"I don't know."
"That's not enough, Yuna."
She stepped forward. "I need you to believe me."
He turned finally. Eyes dark. "I want to. But I've lived my life reading lies. And right now, you look exactly like one."
Her heart cracked.
But she didn't cry.
Instead, she took a breath, voice steel.
"Then look harder."
That night, Yuna locked herself in the study and began pulling every piece of her father's old records—files, passwords, contacts—from the dark corners of Eastin Holdings.
She was done playing defense.
If someone forged her name, they left fingerprints.
If her father used her, she'd expose it.
And if Elsa wanted war?
She'd learn what a true Eastin looked like when she stopped pretending to be one.
Across the street, Austin stood on the rooftop of an adjacent building, watching Wolfe Tower through a scope.
His phone buzzed.
> Elsa: "Report?"
He didn't respond.
Instead, he whispered to no one:
"I warned you both."
He pulled out a second phone.
Untraceable.
And sent a message:
> "Wolfe was never the actual target."
Inside Wolfe Tower, Alexander sat in his mother's former office, surrounded by old ledgers and encrypted notes.
One file lay open before him.
A forgotten diary entry from his mother.
> "Victor Eastin said he'd give me everything if I delivered Alexander. I told him my son is not a bargaining chip. But he laughed. Said he already had a way to get to the boy… through the girl."
Alexander's blood ran cold.
He didn't know what was worse:
That his mother might've tried to protect him.
Or that Yuna might've always been the plan.