CHAPTER 18The Rescue
She lost count of the glasses. The world softened at the edges. The pain dulled to a numb ache.
When someone slid into the booth opposite her, she expected Leo. It wasn't.
It was Sylas, Leo's brother, his expression unreadable.
"Mrs. Wǎngshā," he said calmly. "My brother is… preoccupied. He sent me."
Luna laughed, a hollow sound. "Preoccupied? With Elara?"
Sylas didn't smile. "With containing a cyber-attack on our Berlin servers that began at 9:30 last night. The same time those photos were taken." He slid a tablet across the table. "Security footage. Uncropped."
On the screen, a video played. The hotel lobby. Elara rushing toward Leo, her expression anxious. Leo taking a step back, his hands up. His lips forming clear words: "I'm married. Don't touch me." Elara's face falling. Leo turning and walking away, alone, toward the elevators.
The footage continued, showing Leo entering the elevator by himself, the doors closing on his tired, solitary face.
"The photos were edited," Sylas said quietly. "Cropped to remove context. To create a narrative."
Luna stared at the screen, the alcohol haze clearing into cold, sharp horror. "Who…?"
"We're working on that." Sylas stood. "My car is outside. I'll take you home."
In the car, silence hung heavy between them. Luna watched the city lights blur past.
"He was angry," Sylas said suddenly. "When he realized you'd believed the photos over him. Then he was… hurt."
"I didn't—"
"You did." Sylas glanced at her. "You have trauma. I understand that. But my brother isn't your ex. He doesn't lie. He calculates, he withholds, he maneuvers. But he doesn't lie to those he considers his."
"And am I his?"
Sylas almost smiled. "He slept on a couch for you. Leo, who values efficiency above all things, chose physical discomfort to give you space. I've never seen him do that for anyone."
The car pulled into the estate. Leo was waiting on the front steps, illuminated by the porch light. His face was a mask of controlled tension.
Sylas helped Luna out. "She's had a lot to drink. And a lot to process."
Leo nodded to his brother, then took Luna's arm, his grip firm but not painful. "Thank you, Sylas."
Inside, he led her not to their suite, but to his study—a room she'd never entered. It was as sparse as the rest of him: a large desk, multiple screens, a single chair. And on the wall, framed, the original paper crane.
"Sit," he said, gesturing to the chair.
She sat, feeling like a child called to the principal's office.
He stood before her, arms crossed. "Show me the photos."
She handed him her phone. He studied them, his expression growing colder with each swipe.
"Elara came to the hotel because the Berlin attack required a physical handoff of encrypted keys. She was panicked. I told her to maintain professional distance. She attempted to hug me. I refused." He set the phone down. "The photos were taken by someone with access to the hotel's security feeds. Someone who knew to send them to you. Someone who knew it would hurt you."
"Who hates me that much?" Her voice was small.
"It's not about you," he said, softer now. "It's about us. The alliance. Someone wants to break it." He knelt before her, bringing them eye to eye. "Luna, you must understand. In this world, everything is a weapon. Even perceived betrayal."
Tears spilled over. "I'm sorry."
"Don't be." He brushed a tear away with his thumb. "Be smarter. Be harder. But don't be sorry for feeling." He stood, pulling her up with him. "Come. You need to sleep."
He led her to their suite, helped her into bed, and turned to leave.
"Leo," she whispered.
He paused.
"The couch… was uncomfortable."
A faint smile touched his lips. "Extremely."
He left, closing the door softly behind him.