The morning briefing felt like a courtroom.
Dominic stood at the head of the table in his private office, sunlight cutting sharp lines across the glass walls. Elara sat to his right, calm on the surface, pulse steady from habit rather than peace. Two aides waited silently, tablets in hand.
"We move quietly," Dominic said. "No public accusations. No leaks. We document."
One aide nodded. "Bianca's calls last night traced to a shell firm tied to a private investigator."
Elara's fingers tightened once, then relaxed. "She's building a narrative."
"Then we dismantle it," Dominic replied. "Piece by piece."
---
Bianca chose that moment to appear.
She leaned against the doorway, impeccably dressed, eyes bright with something reckless. "Am I interrupting?"
"Yes," Dominic said without looking at her.
Bianca smiled anyway. "I brought breakfast."
Elara noticed the detail immediately: only one cup of coffee. Dominic's brand. A message wrapped in foam.
Dominic's gaze finally lifted. "You'll leave it outside."
Bianca's smile thinned. She set the tray down, eyes sliding to Elara. "You're quiet today, sister."
Elara met her look. "I'm listening."
Bianca laughed softly. "To what? His instructions?"
"To patterns," Elara said evenly. "You always talk when you think you're ahead."
A flicker—there, then gone.
Dominic stood. "We're done here."
Bianca pushed off the doorframe, stepping closer. "Careful," she said lightly. "People are starting to ask questions."
"Good," Elara replied. "We're ready with answers."
Bianca's gaze sharpened. "About your past?"
Elara didn't blink. "About yours."
Silence hit like a dropped glass.
Dominic opened the door. "Out."
Bianca left smiling—but the smile didn't reach her eyes.
---
By afternoon, the first test arrived.
A gossip site posted a vague teaser—Billionaire Bride with a Hidden History?—no names, no proof. Just enough smoke to invite fire.
Elara read it once. Then closed the page.
Dominic watched her carefully. "Say the word and I shut it down."
"No," she said. "Let it breathe."
He tilted his head. "Explain."
"Bianca wants me frantic," Elara said. "If we react, we confirm there's something to hide."
Dominic studied her—then nodded. "You're right."
He reached out, a brief squeeze of her hand. Steady. Publicly invisible. Privately everything.
---
That evening, Elara received a message from an unknown number.
You don't have to do this. Walk away.
She deleted it without replying.
Across the mansion, Bianca paced, phone pressed to her ear. "It's not landing," she hissed. "She's not panicking."
A voice on the other end murmured reassurances that didn't reassure.
Bianca stopped at the window, watching Elara cross the courtyard with Dominic, their silhouettes aligned.
"Fine," Bianca said softly. "Then we escalate."
She hung up.
---
Later, in the quiet of the study, Dominic poured tea instead of whiskey.
"You handled today," he said. "You didn't flinch."
Elara leaned back in the chair. "I used to flinch all the time. Bianca taught me not to."
He considered that. "Tomorrow, we release the timeline."
"The truth," Elara said.
"The truth," he confirmed. "Clean. Verifiable. Boring enough to be unbeatable."
She smiled faintly. "Boring saves lives."
He returned the smile—small, real. "And wins wars."
Outside, thunder rolled—distant, promising.
The smoke had risen.
The fire was coming.