CHAPTER 15The Dinner Party
Fen declared a family dinner mandatory that evening—"to observe the new dynamics," she said, which Luna understood meant "to watch me struggle."
Sylas had returned from wherever he'd been—Berlin, Zara whispered—and his presence added another layer of tension. He was quieter than Leo, more observant, with eyes that missed nothing.
The meal was elaborate, course after course of exquisite, flavorless food. The conversation was worse.
"The Mòyǔs are expanding into virtual art forgery," Sylas said between bites. "Their authentication algorithms are getting better. We may need to adjust our countermeasures."
"Virtual forgery?" Luna asked before she could stop herself.
"Digital art with fabricated provenance," Leo explained. "Sold as unique NFTs. The Mòyǔs are... innovative in their corruption."
"Like Jett's sculptures?" The words were out before she could recall them.
All eyes turned to her.
"You're familiar with Jett Mòyǔ?" Ming asked, her voice cool.
"We're friends," Luna said, lifting her chin. "He's not like the rest of them."
Zara snorted. "He's the black sheep. Which, in that family, means he's only slightly less shady."
"He's an artist," Luna insisted.
"Art is just another currency here," Tao said, speaking for the first time. "Everything has a price. Even friendship."
The words hung in the air, a not-so-subtle warning.
After dinner, Fen summoned Luna to her private sitting room. The space was sparse, elegant, dominated by a large painting of a spiderweb so detailed it looked real.
"You defended the Mòyǔ boy," Fen said without preamble.
"I defended my friend."
"Friendship is a vulnerability." Fen turned from the painting. "But it can also be a tool. The boy is... disaffected with his family. That could be useful."
Luna's blood ran cold. "I won't use him."
"You will," Fen said calmly, "if it becomes necessary. That is your duty now. To this family." She stepped closer. "Your mother sold you to us, child. But understand this: we didn't buy a prisoner. We invested in an asset. And assets must appreciate in value."
She dismissed Luna with a wave.
Shaken, Luna wandered the gardens, the cool night air doing little to clear her head. She found herself at the koi pond, watching the orange and white shapes glide through the dark water.
"They're always watching," a voice said behind her.
She turned. Leo stood a few feet away, his hands in his pockets. "The koi. They see everything that happens here. Silent witnesses."
"Like you," she said.
"Like me." He came to stand beside her. "My grandmother threatened you."
"She reminded me of my position."
"She's testing your resilience." He paused. "You should know... there's a file. In the deepest archives. About your father's death."
Luna froze. "What about it?"
"It wasn't an accident." Leo's voice was quiet. "And my family knew. We have the evidence. Your mother doesn't know we have it."
The world tilted. "Who?"
"That's the question, isn't it?" He met her eyes. "The archives remember everything. Even what your family has tried to forget."
He left her there by the pond, the koi swimming in silent circles, holding secrets in their mute mouths.
Luna looked up at the estate, at the lights glowing behind the windows. A gilded cage. A web of secrets. A marriage of convenience.
And now, the first thread of a mystery that could unravel everything.
She had come here to be archived. Instead, she had become an archaeologist, digging through layers of deception.
And the first thing she had uncovered was that her father had been murdered.
And the Wǎngshās knew who did it.