Evelyn didn't drive her usual car.
Tonight required something less recognizable.
So she arrived in the Bureau's black SUV—clean, polished, and official. The kind of vehicle that made people straighten their backs and choose their words carefully.
She parked near the long curved driveway and stepped out, adjusting the rim of her dark sunshades as the door shut behind her with a quiet click.
Her gaze lifted.
The mansion stood before her like a monument to wealth—stone walls glowing under golden lights, balconies draped in red banners, luxury cars lining the front like trophies. Men in tailored suits and women in shimmering gowns moved across the entrance, laughter and music spilling through the open doors.
A celebration.
Or a performance.
Evelyn walked forward calmly.
A man at the entrance stepped into her path.
"Invitation card, please."
She smiled politely and reached into her coat.
Instead of a card, she held up her badge.
"FBI."
The effect was immediate.
The man stiffened, panic flickering across his face.
Before he could start stammering questions, Evelyn gently patted his shoulder.
"Relax," she said lightly. "I'm here to talk, not to investigate."
Her smile widened.
"It's okay."
The man quickly stepped aside.
"Y-Yes, ma'am."
Evelyn entered.
The grand hall opened before her like a scene from a luxury magazine—crystal chandeliers glittering above, champagne glasses clinking, voices rising and falling in polite conversation.
People were drinking.
Laughing.
Pretending.
A few guests noticed her immediately.
Recognition spread quickly through the crowd.
An FBI agent at a private gathering always attracted attention.
"Agent Evelyn!"
She lifted a graceful hand in greeting, offering polite smiles as a few women approached her, admiring her presence, asking small questions she barely listened to.
Her attention was elsewhere.
Her eyes kept drifting upward.
The upper floor.
A wide staircase draped in red carpet curved toward the balcony.
That was where she expected him to appear.
But Silas wasn't there.
Evelyn excused herself from the women with a small bow.
"Ladies."
She moved away smoothly, her posture relaxed, her smile still in place.
But beneath her dark shades, her eyes were sharp.
Observing.
Calculating.
Cameras.
There were several mounted around the room.
Small.
Almost invisible.
Someone was watching.
She continued walking, passing near the red-carpeted staircase.
A bodyguard stepped forward immediately.
"Sorry, ma'am. Upstairs is restricted."
Evelyn didn't argue.
She simply smiled.
"My mistake."
She turned casually and took a glass of wine from a passing waiter.
The red liquid swirled gently as she walked.
Then she saw him.
A man in a white-and-black striped work uniform.
Staff.
Perfect.
Evelyn adjusted her path and walked directly toward him.
Just before reaching him, she turned her head slightly—
And bumped into him.
The wine spilled across the front of her dress.
Gasps rippled through the nearby guests.
"Oh—!"
The worker froze in horror.
"I—I'm sorry, ma'am! I didn't—"
As he bent down nervously, his identification card slipped from his pocket and landed on the floor.
Evelyn's eyes flicked downward.
In one smooth motion, she shifted her heel over the card, pinning it beneath her shoe.
Then she brushed the wine from her dress and smiled calmly to the crowd.
"It's alright."
Her voice was gentle.
"Mistakes happen."
The crowd murmured in admiration.
So graceful.
So composed.
The worker stood there shaking.
Evelyn looked at him kindly.
"You should get a drink," she said. "I'll just use the restroom."
The man nodded quickly and hurried away.
As he turned, Evelyn "accidentally" dropped her purse.
"Oh."
She crouched down to gather the items, her fingers sliding under her heel to retrieve the worker's card.
By the time she stood again, the card was already hidden in her hand.
She walked toward the elevators.
No bodyguards nearby.
Perfect.
She slipped the card through the reader.
The elevator doors opened with a soft ding.
Inside, she pressed the button for the third floor.
The ride was silent.
When the doors opened, the hallway beyond was quiet—almost eerily so.
Only the sharp rhythm of her heels echoed against the marble floor.
She walked toward the front desk where a personal secretary sat typing.
Evelyn leaned slightly over the counter.
"Give me the spare key to Silas's room."
The woman blinked.
"I'm sorry, miss, we can't—"
Before she could finish, Evelyn placed her badge slowly on the counter.
The message was clear.
Authority.
Pressure.
The secretary's confidence melted instantly.
Without another word, she opened a drawer and handed over a key card.
Evelyn nodded.
"Thank you."
She walked past the desk.
Behind her, the secretary hesitated… then quietly picked up the phone.
Evelyn reached Room 406.
She stared at the door.
This was almost too easy.
She had expected traps.
Security.
Something.
Not… this.
She inserted the key.
The lock beeped.
Then another prompt appeared.
Fingerprint required.
Evelyn clenched her jaw.
"Of course."
She turned—
And spotted a man approaching down the hallway.
A butler.
Perfect.
"Excuse me," she said politely. "Mr. Silas asked me to deliver something to his room personally, but the lock needs his fingerprint. Is there a way around it?"
The man hesitated.
Clearly nervous.
But after a moment, he stepped forward.
"His password override should work."
He typed a short code.
The door clicked open.
"Thank you," Evelyn said sweetly.
The man nodded awkwardly and left.
As soon as he disappeared around the corner, Evelyn muttered under her breath.
"Password: black."
Too easy.
She stepped inside and shut the door.
The room was luxurious—dark wood furniture, expensive décor, floor-to-ceiling windows.
But Evelyn wasn't here to admire it.
She moved quickly.
Drawer.
Cabinet.
Desk.
She pulled everything open, searching.
His closet.
Inside, she spotted a small packet of condoms.
She rolled her eyes and turned away.
"Charming."
Where was it?
She searched again.
Then something caught her eye.
A small card tucked inside the wardrobe.
A number written on it.
She slipped it into her bag.
Next—his laptop.
Evelyn connected a flash drive and began extracting files.
The screen flickered as data transferred.
She glanced at her watch.
8:57 PM.
Too long.
She'd already spent too much time here.
Suddenly—
A red warning flashed across the screen.
Unauthorized access detected.
Evelyn immediately closed the laptop and placed it back exactly where it had been.
Her eyes scanned the room again.
Then she noticed something on the wall.
A framed picture.
Slightly tilted.
She walked over and lifted it carefully—
Behind it was a hidden panel.
Just as her fingers reached for it—
The door behind her burst open.
A calm voice filled the room.
"Looking for something…"
A pause.
"…Miss Evelyn Ashford?"
Evelyn slowly turned.
Silas stood in the doorway.
Watching her.
Evelyn didn't turn around immediately.
The flash drive in her hand tightened as she drew in a slow breath.
Then she turned, smiling.
"Mr. Montclair. How unexpected to see you. I'm glad you're here."
Silas chuckled softly as he stepped into the room.
His hand brushed against the wall before stopping beside the door.
"No, Miss Ashford," he said calmly. "Tell me you didn't go this far… just for a talk."
He tilted his head slightly, studying her.
Evelyn's smile widened politely.
"I should get going now."
Not a hint of panic in her voice.
Silas turned away from her and walked to the bedside table, picking up a bottle of wine. He uncorked it slowly, as if they had all the time in the world.
"Let's drink," he said casually. "You've earned it."
The wine flowed smoothly into two glasses.
"You bypassed my security cameras… my guards… even my door lock."
He glanced at her over his shoulder.
"How… impressive."
Evelyn's eyes drifted toward the painting on the wall.
"What a beautiful painting."
Silas paused.
Then he turned and walked toward her, holding the two glasses.
"Here," he said, handing one to her. "For the most persistent FBI agent I've met."
His gaze slid briefly toward the painting.
"Old piece," he murmured. "It's been hiding secrets longer than either of us has been alive."
By now he stood very close.
Too close.
Evelyn could feel the warmth radiating from him.
She took the glass, gulped the wine quickly, and stepped away.
"What makes you think I came here to be lectured?"
Silas smirked.
"Didn't you say you were glad to see me?"
Evelyn looked away, irritation flickering across her face.
He was wasting her time.
She turned back toward him.
"I know you planned this."
Her voice sharpened.
"You had someone watching the cameras and pretending not to notice me. You let me pass the guards. You made the lock easy enough for me to crack. You set this entire—"
Silas suddenly dropped his glass on the table and began clapping.
Slow.
Mocking.
"Perfect."
He walked across the room and settled into a swing chair, crossing one leg over the other as he studied her.
"Now I understand why the Bureau decorated you."
His lips curved slightly.
"You knew it was a trap… and yet you walked straight into the lion's den."
He leaned forward.
"I'm curious, Miss Ashford."
His eyes gleamed with amusement.
"What kind of grass convinces a sheep to wander into a wolf's lair?"
Evelyn sighed, setting her glass down.
"You're very complicated, Mr. Montclair."
She walked toward him, placed her bag on the bed, and slowly held up the flash drive.
"I have something to start with."
She tossed it lightly in her hand.
"You told me to find a clue before you'd talk."
Her gaze locked onto his.
"Well… here it is."
Silas stared at the flash drive.
Then he started laughing.
The laughter grew deeper, richer.
Finally he looked back at her.
"What makes you think it would be difficult for me to snap your neck right now and take that drive from you?"
Evelyn bit her lower lip slightly, then smirked.
"Threats?"
She tilted her head.
"That's all you've got?"
Her eyes hardened.
"The only reason you haven't done it is because I'm FBI. If anything happens to me, my people will make your life very complicated."
She folded her arms.
"So I suggest you start talking."
Before Silas could reply, a knock sounded at the door.
The butler's voice followed.
"Sire, it's time for your speech."
Silas stood slowly, adjusting his jacket.
A faint smirk returned to his lips.
"Looks like my attention is needed… somewhere that deserves it."
--------
Evelyn stepped outside with Silas beside her.
They walked through the hallway and back toward the grand hall where music and chatter filled the mansion once again. Guests turned as they passed, some greeting Evelyn politely.
Silas walked next to her with a faint smirk.
"I can't believe you actually went through all that trouble," he said mockingly. "Breaking into my room… just to talk."
Evelyn continued walking, offering brief waves to a few guests who greeted her. Then she stopped and turned slightly toward him.
"I'll be waiting, Mr. Montclair," she said calmly. "Waiting for the day you finally decide to start talking."
She swung the flash drive lightly between her fingers.
Just then, something caught her attention.
At the far corner of the house, near the edge of the courtyard, a man was walking slowly with his head lowered. His movements were careful.
Too careful.
Suspicious.
Evelyn narrowed her eyes, watching him.
But before she could focus longer, Silas spoke again.
"So that's a yes then."
His voice pulled her attention back.
Evelyn looked at him and nodded, though she clearly hadn't been listening.
"Yeah… yeah."
Her mouth was slightly open, her throat suddenly dry.
Silas noticed immediately.
It was the first time the calm mask she wore had slipped.
His eyes followed the direction she had been staring.
But the corner of the courtyard was empty now.
The man was gone.
Evelyn blinked and adjusted her bag, gripping it tightly.
"Have a good night, Mr. Montclair," she said before turning toward the exit.
She walked out of the mansion quickly without looking back.
Silas remained where he stood, watching her leave.
A slow smile formed on his face.
*******
Evelyn stormed into her bedroom and slammed the door behind her.
A frustrated groan escaped her lips.
She pulled off her coat and tossed it onto the bed before dropping onto the edge of the mattress, running both hands through her hair.
"This man… this man… this man—ugh!"
She bit her lip, anger burning in her chest.
Her eyes suddenly landed on the flash drive lying on the table.
Right.
The flash.
She quickly grabbed it.
Please don't tell me I went through all that trouble for nothing.
Evelyn opened her laptop and plugged the flash drive in. Her fingers began tapping quickly across the keyboard as the system started loading.
A progress bar appeared on the screen.
She leaned forward.
"Come on… come on…"
The percentage climbed slowly.
If this contains something useful, maybe I can finally understand what that man is hiding.
"Please work," she whispered.
The loading bar reached 100%.
"Yes!"
Hope flashed across her face as she opened the files.
But her expression changed almost immediately.
"What the…?"
She stared at the screen in confusion.
They were photographs.
Old photographs.
Silas… younger… standing beside a woman and a man who looked like his parents. More photos appeared as she scrolled—family gatherings, childhood moments, formal pictures.
"Great," she muttered sarcastically.
"So I risked my life for a family album."
She continued scrolling anyway.
Then one image caught her attention.
A man with grey hair stood beside a teenage Silas, his arm resting on the boy's shoulder.
Evelyn leaned closer.
"Uncle… maybe?"
She quickly took a screenshot and saved it.
Everyone connected to you matters, Mr. Montclair. Someone always slips.
She closed the laptop and stood up, pacing slowly around the room while biting the edge of her finger.
Thinking.
Planning.
You're careful… too careful.
Her eyes moved to her bag.
She walked over and pulled out the small card she had taken earlier.
The number written on it.
She saved it in her phone and sat down again.
Her thumb hovered over another contact.
Morales.
She hesitated.
He's probably busy. I shouldn't bother him right now.
Instead, she dialed the new number.
It rang.
And rang.
No answer.
She tried again.
Still nothing.
After several attempts, she sighed and dropped the phone on the bed.
"Fantastic."
Evelyn stood up and removed her gown before walking into the bathroom.
Moments later she stepped under the shower.
Warm water rushed over her body.
She tilted her head back, letting the water soak her hair.
For a moment she stayed like that, breathing heavily.
Silas Montclair…
She lifted her head, wiping water from her face.
"You think you're ten steps ahead of me."
She exhaled slowly.
"We'll see."
After finishing her shower, she dried herself and returned to the bedroom.
Her phone sat silently on the bed.
No missed calls.
No messages.
She frowned slightly and tossed it aside before climbing under the blanket.
The clock read 10:31 PM.
I need sleep. Tomorrow I'll figure out another way to crack you open, Mr. Montclair.
Just as she closed her eyes—
Beep.
Her phone lit up.
Evelyn immediately reached for it.
A message.
Hey.
She sat up and quickly replied.
Hey. Can we meet?
A few seconds passed before another message appeared.
Who are you? And why?
Evelyn typed quickly.
It doesn't matter. It's urgent and important… and it involves you.
She smirked slightly.
Curiosity always works.
Ten minutes passed.
She began to think she had scared him off.
Then—
Another message.
Let's meet at Marylin Café.
3:00 PM tomorrow.
Don't be late. I have to pick my kids up from school.
Evelyn stared at the screen for a moment before closing the phone.
She grabbed the edge of the blanket and pulled it tighter, biting her lip thoughtfully.
"Alright," she murmured.
A small determined smile formed on her face.
"Let's start somewhere, Mr. Montclair."
Her eyes slowly closed.
"This time… I won't miss."