———
By the time Evelyn reached her apartment, the sky had already darkened into evening.
She shut the car door and leaned briefly against it, closing her eyes.
The echo of Mrs. Hayes' voice still rang inside her head.
You killed my husband.
The words clung to her like smoke.
Evelyn pushed herself upright and walked inside the building, her heels clicking sharply against the marble lobby floor. The security guard greeted her with a respectful nod.
"Good evening, Agent Ashford."
She smiled politely.
"Evening."
The elevator ride felt longer than usual.
When the doors finally slid open to her floor, she walked straight into her apartment without turning on the lights. The familiar quiet wrapped around her like a blanket.
She dropped her bag on the couch.
For a moment she simply stood there.
Then she walked toward the bathroom.
The bathtub filled slowly with steaming water, soft white vapor rising into the air.
Evelyn stepped out of her clothes and lowered herself into the bath.
The heat wrapped around her body instantly, loosening the tension in her shoulders.
For the first time that day, she allowed herself to breathe.
She sank deeper into the water, resting her head against the edge of the tub.
Silas Montclair's voice echoed again in her memory.
"Tell me, Miss Evelyn… if you find evidence that could destroy someone's life, what would you do with it?"
Her fingers curled slightly under the water.
"I would take it to court," she had said.
The lie still tasted bitter.
Minutes passed.
Finally she rose from the tub and stepped onto the bathroom tiles, wrapping a towel around herself.
The mirror above the sink reflected her damp hair and pale skin.
Evelyn studied her reflection quietly.
Then slowly, she smiled, a fake one.
"You're beautiful," she murmured to herself.
The words sounded almost rehearsed.
Her smile widened slightly, polished and perfect.
The same smile that had appeared on award stages, television screens, and press photographs.
But the moment lingered too long.
Her smile faded.
She sighed and wiped the steam from the mirror with her palm.
That was when a memory surfaced.
Morales.
Her former partner during the Hayes investigation.
He had been brilliant with computers — a man who could pull secrets from the internet the way surgeons removed bullets.
After the Hayes case… he had transferred to another city.
A new job.
A new family.
A new life.
Unlike her.
Evelyn stepped out of the bathroom, tying the towel tighter around her body as she reached for her phone.
She dialed his number.
It rang twice.
"Evelyn?" Morales' voice came through, surprised but warm.
"Still alive, I see," he added lightly.
Evelyn smiled faintly.
"Barely."
"Did the bureau finally decide to give you a break?"
"Not exactly."
A brief silence passed between them — the unspoken memory of the Hayes investigation hanging quietly in the space between their words.
Morales cleared his throat.
"So… what do you need?"
Evelyn walked toward the window, staring down at the city lights below.
"I need you to dig into someone for me."
Morales chuckled softly.
"You always did go straight to the point."
"His name is Silas Montclair."
There was a pause on the other end.
"Montclair?" Morales repeated slowly.
"Yes."
"You're stepping into a dangerous pool, Ev."
"I know."
Another pause.
Then Morales sighed.
"Give me a few minutes."
The call ended.
Evelyn placed the phone on the coffee table and leaned back into the couch.
The apartment was quiet except for the faint hum of the city outside.
Ten minutes passed.
Then the phone rang again.
She picked it up immediately.
"Tell me you found something."
Morales' voice came through.
"Oh, I found something."
Evelyn sat up.
"Silas Montclair just purchased a new mansion last week."
Her eyes narrowed slightly.
"And tonight?"
Morales continued,
"He's hosting a grand opening party."
Evelyn smiled slowly.
The kind of smile that usually meant trouble for someone.
"Address?" she asked.
Morales sighed worriedly then gave it to her.
When the call ended, Evelyn stood up immediately.
"Well," she murmured to the empty room.
"Let's meet properly, Mr. Montclair."
She walked into her bedroom and opened the wardrobe.
Her fingers slid across several outfits before stopping.
A black glittering off-shoulder dress.
Elegant.
Dangerous.
Perfect.
She slipped into it slowly, adjusting the fabric carefully around her body. The neckline revealed just enough cleavage to attract attention without appearing desperate.
Her hair was dried and styled into a smooth bob that framed her face sharply.
Then she applied a bold red lipstick.
The final touch.
Evelyn stepped into a pair of black heels and picked up a small glittering evening bag.
Before leaving, she stood once more before the mirror.
The woman staring back at her looked flawless.
Confident.
Untouchable.
Evelyn tilted her head slightly, studying herself.
Then she smiled.
A smile filled with quiet challenge.
"Let's see how you beat this," she whispered softly.
"Mr. Silas Montclair."
And with that, she walked out into the night.
******
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?"