She removed the flash drive and closed her laptop.
Just then, there was a knock on the door.
Her secretary peeked inside.
"Miss Ashford, the boss is around. Don't be curious—he's just here to see you," she teased.
Evelyn looked up.
She knew he would be coming into the office, and she didn't want him seeing everything she had been working on.
Quickly, she gathered the papers on her desk and packed them away one by one.
Just as she finished, there was another knock.
"Come in, sir," she said, standing straight.
Mr. Tyler stepped inside.
His eyes scanned the office. Everything looked unusually neat, but the sight of Evelyn's polite smile distracted him.
"Evelyn," he said. "How have you been?"
Evelyn nodded as she pulled a chair out for him.
"Very well, sir. I'm trying to put in my best."
Mr. Tyler sighed and leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table while pressing his fingers against his temples.
"I've been trying to pull something out of the Montclair empire," he admitted. "But it's proving futile… and honestly, it's draining me."
Evelyn paused for a moment before sitting down across from him.
"Mr. Tyler," she said calmly, leaning slightly forward.
"I have this under control. I only need your permission."
She smiled faintly.
"I need you to approve my trip to Cortland Town within a week. And send backup if necessary."
Her eyes sharpened with determination.
"I think I know where to start."
Mr. Tyler suddenly leaned forward.
"Good. Good," he said quickly. "Evelyn, I trust you. Do everything in your power to bring the Montclair empire to their knees."
Evelyn smirked slightly.
After he left, she walked to the door and locked it behind him, nodding to herself.
She checked her watch.
1:33 PM.
Her stomach growled. She was starving.
And she still had a meeting with the unknown man at 3 PM.
Evelyn stepped out of her office, locking the door behind her. As she passed the reception desk, she dipped her head slightly to acknowledge Tiffany, who was still busy informing others of the boss's arrival.
Evelyn headed across the street to a small store.
Inside, she looked around for something quick to eat before settling on a salad and a small pack of rice. She paid and stepped back outside.
As she walked, something caught her attention.
A car.
Parked across the street.
Watching.
Evelyn kept her eyes forward, pretending not to notice. She continued walking slowly as if nothing was wrong.
Then the car window began sliding down.
She waited.
Patient.
When it lowered enough, she turned her head slightly.
A man sat inside wearing a mask and dark glasses.
Their eyes met.
The man quickly looked away and raised the window again.
Evelyn's eyes narrowed.
She recognized him.
The man from the party.
The spy.
Her pace quickened. Then she broke into a run, clutching her food packet.
The man sensed the danger immediately.
The engine roared to life.
The car reversed quickly, turned, and sped off down the street, leaving Evelyn standing in the dust.
She quickly pulled out her phone and snapped a picture of the license plate just before the car disappeared.
A satisfied smile appeared on her lips.
"I'll deal with you later," she murmured.
She returned to the building with her food.
Inside, the office was busy. As she walked past the lobby, she noticed a man speaking with the staff. Apparently, he had returned a missing child he had found wandering near his house earlier, and the station was compensating him.
1:54 PM.
She sat down and began eating quickly, her mind already focused on the upcoming meeting.
What would she say to him?
Was he connected to Silas… or just another victim?
Either way, she intended to find out.
She finished her water and tossed the empty plate into a drawer.
Then she stood up.
Evelyn grabbed her ID card and opened the cabinet.
From one shelf, she took a small pocket knife.
Calmly, she placed the weapon into her bag.
She grabbed her handbag and her phone.
Then she left the building and headed toward her car.
She was driving to Marylin Café.
Evelyn's drive to Marilyn Cafe had taken her forty minutes. She glanced at her watch—2:20 p.m.—leaving her forty minutes to spare before the 3:00 meeting.
----
The cafe was almost empty. Evelyn frowned at the quiet atmosphere. Too quiet… too clean. Something in the back of her mind screamed unease. She shoved the thought aside and pushed the glass door open.
"Hello? Is anyone here?" she called, trying to steady her racing heart.
The only response was the echo of her own voice. Evelyn's eyes scanned the shadows, instinct prickling at her neck. She was too early. Too anxious. This isn't good.
Then a figure emerged from behind the counter.
Before she could react, he pulled her close, pressing her shoulder into him. His arms wrapped around her neck and shoulders, holding her down firmly—but he didn't cover her mouth.
Evelyn froze for a moment, her bag slipping to the floor.
"You're the lady from the phone, huh?" the man said, his voice low and steady, his grip reminding her of the danger.
Evelyn exhaled slowly, closing her eyes for a brief moment. Think, Evelyn… think.
"Drop the goddamn gun," she said evenly, her voice calm but commanding. "We need to talk."
He didn't drop the gun. Instead, he tightened his grip, pressing it closer to his side. Evelyn's hands stayed raised, calm but alert.
"You can't get away with it if you kill me," she said, her voice steady. "Your kids will suffer.
They'll find out. And then it's over for you."
He scoffed, releasing her just enough to push her forward onto the counter. Evelyn adjusted her hair, straightened her jacket, and looked him square in the eyes.
"Sit down. Let's talk," she said.
He stared at her, anger still simmering in his dark eyes, but the raw, impulsive fury had begun to cool, replaced by a grudging calculation. She was a cop, after all. Even if she was alone now, backup wouldn't be far behind if he made a move.
Killing her here would only escalate things beyond repair. Listening, at least, offered a slim chance of a different outcome. With a frustrated grunt, he slipped the pistol back into his trousers. He dragged a chair toward the table, sat heavily, and began tapping his fingers, each beat sharp and impatient, a restless energy still thrumming beneath his skin.
"Fine," he muttered. "I'm sitting. What do you want to say?"
Evelyn straightened in her chair, a calm smile spreading across her face.
"What do I call you?" she asked lightly. "I'm Detective Evelyn… you can call me Eve. Let's not be too formal."
He looked at her once, then away, shaking his head.
Evelyn leaned forward slightly, resting her elbows on the table. Her eyes pinned him with quiet determination.
"I could have you arrested right now," she said. "But that's not why I'm here."
She reached into her bag, retrieved her phone, and tapped the screen, sliding it across the table.
Silas Montclair's face stared back.
"Do you know this man?" she asked, still smiling, calm as ever.
His eyes dropped to the screen. His jaw tightened, and he looked away, down at the table.
Evelyn raised her chin, letting a small, knowing smirk creep onto her lips.
"Hmm. Are you two familiar?" she prodded.
He didn't meet her gaze.
"No… I don't know him. And don't ask again," he said sharply.
Evelyn nodded slowly, reading the tension in his posture. "Ah. He's threatened your life… and your family, I see."
"I told you to stop," he muttered, standing abruptly. He slammed his fist onto the table, leaning in so close that Evelyn could feel the heat radiating from him.
She looked away, unshaken. A faint smile lingered. "I did guess right. Tell me… who hasn't this man tortured before?"
"He's tortured the city. The market…" he said bitterly, rubbing his temple.
Evelyn leaned in, lowering her voice just enough to draw him in.
"He's a threat to my job. If I don't get something from this… I risk everything. And you… you risk your life and your family."
He sank back into his chair, running a hand through his hair.
"He's dangerous," he said. "You don't understand. Everything I've been through—you have no idea."
He stood again, slow, deliberate, fury in every motion.
"He duped me. He offered me a contract… I spent my own money to secure it. I gave him my number… he never called. I was promised a fortune. A fake fortune. I took it to court… he had money, influence, everything. I wasted my time, my resources…" His voice cracked with frustration.
Evelyn sighed, suppressing her impatience. Time was slipping. "So you're scared," she said. "Even when I assure you… protection, free residence, security, if you comply."
He glared at her, standing and dragging his chair back.
"I have no business with the Montclair empire," he said sharply. "Those people… they're more than you know." He laughed bitterly. "And also… I don't have kids. I only said that to test you. To study you."
He pivoted, ready to leave.
Evelyn's voice cut through the air like steel.
"If you help… the sum of the money he took from you will be doubled," she said without looking at him. "Only if you work this out with me."
Her confidence, her calm, her unwavering tone… it held him in place. Something about her made him hesitate. She didn't threaten, she didn't plead. She simply made the solution irresistible.
He paused. His jaw clenched. His mind ran through calculations, risks, possibilities. And for the first time in the conversation, he felt… cornered.
Evelyn smiled just enough to let him see that she had already won a small piece of this battle.
Michael slammed his fist against the wall, the sharp thud echoing through the small café. He groaned, jaw tight. "Fine… fine! Goddammit… what kind of woman have I met?"
Evelyn let a faint, amused smile play across her lips. "One who turns tables," she said softly, letting the words linger.
Evelyn adjusted the chair behind her and rose to her full height, the smooth confidence in her stride betraying none of the nerves coiling in her chest. "Tell me… do we have a deal?"
Michael's shoulders slumped, and he pressed his forehead into the wall, palm flat against the cold surface. "I'll do everything in my power to make that bastard pay for what he did to me" He clenched his fight tighter.