Chapter 5: The First Move
The message from Levi wasn't a threat. It was an invitation. A summons to the chessboard. Silas Sullivan had made his opening move, a subtle testing of my defenses. It was my turn.
I didn't go home. I went shopping.
The modest funds I'd "appropriated" from Kaelen's account bought me a single, powerful weapon: a uniform. Not a nurse's scrubs or a doctor's coat, but the armor of the elite. A sleek, black dress of impeccable cut and understated luxury. A pair of heels that were both elegant and formidable. Simple jewelry that whispered old money, not new flash. I had it delivered to a boutique hotel, where I rented a room for a single night using a fake name paid for with cash. Paranoia was now my most valuable ally.
As the sun began to set, painting the city skyline in hues of orange and gold, I stood before the mirror. The woman who looked back was a stranger. Cool, composed, her eyes holding a depth of resolve that the old Elara Vance had never possessed. She looked like she belonged in the world of the Sullivans. She looked like she could win.
My destination was the Museum of Modern Art. The opening night of a new exhibition, sponsored by Sullivan Holdings. It was the kind of event Silas would attend out of corporate duty, Kaelen would avoid, and Liana would cling to like a lifeline.
The entrance was a swirl of champagne flutes, designer gowns, and the low, privileged hum of conversation. I moved through the crowd like a ghost, unseen. My target wasn't Silas. Not directly. My target was the ecosystem that surrounded him.
I found my opening near a towering, confusing sculpture of twisted metal. A group of older, sharp-eyed women, the kind who sat on the boards of charities and knew every skeleton in every city family's closet. They were gossiping, their voices a delightful, venomous murmur.
"…poor John Atwater, his third wife is already shopping for a divorce lawyer, can you imagine?" "I heard the Croft girl is practically moved into the Sullivan mansion. Nursing Kaelen back to health, or so she says." A snort. "Nursing her way to a pre-nup, more like. Ambitious little thing, isn't she? Though I suppose someone has to manage that boy."
I glided into their circle, a faint, apologetic smile on my lips. "Excuse me, I couldn't help but overhear. Did you say Liana Croft?" I injected just the right amount of concerned professionalism into my voice. "I'm Dr. Elara Vance. I was the attending physician at the Sullivan estate during Kaelen's… birthday incident."
The women turned to me, their eyes lighting up with the gleam of fresh meat. A doctor? With firsthand knowledge? I was instantly the most interesting person in the room.
"Oh, my dear! How dreadful for you," one of them cooed, patting my arm. "Is it true he was raving?"
"Patient confidentiality, of course," I said, lowering my voice conspiratorially. "But it was a very serious situation. It required immediate, specialized intervention. I'm just relieved Miss Croft had the… fortitude to handle it. Her new certification was certainly put to the test."
I let the statement hang, then offered a slight, worried frown. "It's a tremendous burden for someone so young. I do hope the family is providing her with adequate… support. Professional support. The emotional toll of caring for an addict can be devastating."
The women exchanged glances, their minds whirring. I hadn't said anything slanderous. I had painted a picture of medical gravity, positioned Liana not as a devoted lover, but as a caregiver, and subtly questioned the Sullivans' ethics in allowing it. I had handed them a shiny, new piece of gossip wrapped in a veil of medical concern.
"A certification, you say?" one asked, her eyes narrowed. "Well, I never…" "It does seem rather… convenient, doesn't it?"
Mission accomplished. The rumor would spread through the city's upper echelons before the night was over: Liana Croft wasn't a future Mrs. Sullivan; she was a hired nurse. A paid companion. The slight would be a thousand tiny cuts to her social standing.
I excused myself, melting back into the crowd, a sense of cold satisfaction settling in my stomach. One move made.
I needed a drink. I made my way to the open bar, asking for a mineral water with lime. As I turned, I almost collided with a solid, familiar chest.
Silas Sullivan.
He stood holding a glass of whiskey, his expression unreadable. He was flanked by associates but his attention was entirely on me. His gaze swept over my dress, my transformed appearance, and a faint, almost imperceptible eyebrow twitched upwards. He hadn't expected to see me here. And he certainly hadn't expected me to look like I belonged.
"Dr. Vance," he said, his voice a low rumble that seemed to vibrate through the floor. "A surprise."
"Mr. Sullivan," I replied, my tone matching his cool professionalism. "I appreciate culture. And it's a well-sponsored exhibit."
One of the men beside him, portly and balding, chuckled. "Silas, aren't you going to introduce us to your… friend?"
Silas's eyes never left mine. "Dr. Vance is the physician who assisted during my son's recent illness." The word "assisted" was laden with unspoken meaning.
"A doctor! How impressive," the man said, clearly losing interest.
"If you'll excuse us, gentlemen," Silas said, his tone leaving no room for argument. They dispersed instantly. He took a step closer, invading my space. The scent of him—sandaloak and power—was unnerving. "I trust you've recovered from your… hectic night?" he asked, his voice dropping so only I could hear.
"Perfectly," I said, taking a sip of my water. "I trust you found your missing ring?"
A ghost of a smile touched his lips. "It turned up. In an unexpected place." His eyes bored into me, and for a heartbeat, the noise of the gallery faded away. It was just us, surrounded by modern art, replaying our own twisted masterpiece from the night before. "You're full of surprises, Doctor."
Before I could respond, a flash of crimson silk cut between us. Liana Croft materialized at Silas's side, slipping her arm through his with a proprietary air. Her smile toward me was all teeth.
"Silas, darling, they're waiting for you to say a few words," she purred, then her eyes flicked to me. The triumph in them dimmed slightly as she took in my appearance, the calm authority with which I stood beside him. "Oh. Dr. Vance. What a… coincidence."
"Miss Croft," I nodded. "You look… recovered. It must be rewarding, putting your certification to such good use." I emphasized the word, watching her smile tighten.
Silas watched our exchange like a spectator at a tennis match, a faint look of amusement on his face. He enjoyed the tension. He was studying how I handled myself.
"Indeed," Liana said coldly. She tugged on his arm. "Silas, we really must go."
He allowed himself to be led away, but he cast one last look over his shoulder at me. It wasn't a look of anger or dismissal. It was a look of recalculating interest.
I had come here to subtly undermine Liana. I had ended up facing down the patriarch himself. And I hadn't flinched.
As I left the gallery, the night air felt different. Lighter. I had stopped being a piece on his board. I had stepped up to the table and made my move.
And for the first time, I saw a flicker in Silas Sullivan's eyes that wasn't calculation or cold command.
It was respect.