The day after the home invasion served more purposes than just allowing Cassidy to ready herself for her confrontation with Andrea. Alban, equipped with Cassidy’s suspicions about Edward, reached out to Lilah for everything he’d need to break into The Belmont Estate. From her, he received a roster of the staff and then set his infiltration in motion while she acquired everything else requested.

 

Alban’s first move was to clone the phone of Benedict Hargrove, the head butler. As he sifted through the data in search of leverage, he stumbled upon an unexpected bonus: Benedict’s deep-seated dissatisfaction. Complaints about Andrea’s dismissiveness and Edward’s tight grip on every decision painted the picture of a man on the edge. With this insight, Alban crafted his approach with confidence he’d secure Benedict’s cooperation.

 

Heads up, Alban texted, I’m ringing you soon. Pick up and there’s a fat paycheck waiting. Blow me off and your bank account shrinks from 25,500 crowns to… well, just don’t blow me off.

 

Benedict responded promptly once called.

 

The exchange that followed was textbook. Alban dangled an enticing incentive – ten thousand crowns – while simultaneously brandishing the metaphorical stick: a series of threats were he to refuse. Caught between the promise of reward and repercussions, Benedict agreed.

 

Having secured an insider, Alban moved on to the next phase. He retrieved a container from Lilah, cleverly disguised as a book and teeming with cockroaches, then headed to a local library. There, he discreetly placed the container among other books on a shelf. Benedict, fulfilling his role, retrieved it just before the library closed for the day. As evening fell, every element of the scheme was in place.

 

The following morning, as per the plan, Alban got the call to assemble an emergency pest control team. Decked out in official gear, and driving a van branded with the appropriate logos – all courtesy of Lilah – he and his three-person team made their way to The Belmont Estate. Their mission was straightforward: clear the literal bugs that infested the estate and plant their electronic cousins.

 

Alban and his team wrapped things up with plenty of time to spare. After returning all the assets to Lilah, Alban made his way back to his safehouse in the Mural Quarter.

 

To the outside world, Alban’s safehouse was a warehouse repurposed into an artist’s reclusive abode. Sunlight streamed through the large, unadorned windows, but few ever saw inside, thanks to the frosted window film.

 

After the narrow alley and a quick retina scan, Alban emerged into the expansive interior. Perched above a quaint art studio, it was his one true solace in the world.

 

To one side, a minimalist living area boasted a sleek sofa set against a backdrop of abstract paintings – their bold strokes and vibrant hues a stark contrast to the neutral palette of the room. The open floor plan led seamlessly to a compact, well-equipped kitchen. Its stainless-steel appliances glinted under the subtle lighting.

 

The remainder of the room served as his workshop in one manner or another.

 

In one corner, the loft transformed into a personal gym. Weights and dumbbells were methodically arranged alongside a sleek, black treadmill. In another, tech haven buzzed with life. A sprawling desktop, littered with an array of computer monitors, each flickering with clandestine data and surveillance feeds, stood as a command center. Wires snaked across the surface and connected to various devices.

 

After grabbing some yogurt from the fridge, Alban made himself comfortable at the desktop and waited for Andrea and Edward's return home, which, as it turned out, wouldn't be until later that evening.

 

As they made their way inside The Belmont Estate, their interactions were minimal but telling. Edward seemed preoccupied and retreated to his study, where he drew up information on the manhunt for Hugo Stein on his computer.

 

Andrea, meanwhile, commanded the household staff, her voice firm with authority. She requested a carb-rich dinner and a check on her tennis gear before retreating to the privacy of her bedroom. Once inside, she meditated for a short while before discussing tennis strategies with her coach while eating. Finally, she adhered to a disciplined evening routine, complete with skincare and stretching before an early bedtime.

 

This is like watching a screensaver, Alban bemoaned as she snoozed.

 

He was about two seconds from snoring when a ping on another screen caught his attention. He shifted his attention to Edward, who had received a message on the PriviChat app.

 

“Hello there, Ed!” a jaunty voice said. “Hope I didn’t keep you waiting too long. Having a life away from all these screens can be so taxing.”

 

Alban tapped a designated key and his screen switched to a live view of Edward’s monitor. A familiar face – with deep-set blue eyes, blonde wavy hair, and a white suit – materialized on the screen and paused Alban’s finger over the key.

 

Vincent’s part of this now?

 

“Much obliged for answering, Mr. Sharpe,” Edward said. “I assure you, I’ll just take a moment of your time.”

 

“Alright,” Vincent said, “let’s hear it. What’s our club’s next big, bold move?”

 

“This is a bit more of a private matter I need help with. There’s a young girl, Mariposa Ramos, who needs a bit of watching and looking into, if you catch my drift.”

 

“A girl is on your radar!? Good to hear you’re finally getting back in the game!”

 

“No, no,” Edward said, flailing his hands, “it’s not like that at all. Mariposa’s going to be teaming up with my Andrea for a charity match.”

 

“…And why am I needed here?”

 

“This whole idea was Cassidy Cain’s brainchild.”

 

“Cassidy’s in the fray?!” Vincent clapped his hands together while a grin stretched his lips. “This just took a delightful turn! Give me all the juicy details.”

 

A chuckle rumbled from Alban’s throat. Cassidy was going to have a hard time griping when she realized that his shadow work saved her skin.

 

“How acquainted are you with Sam Wells?” Edward asked.

 

“It tickles my memory…” Vincent’s fingers snapped as his face lit with the spark of remembrance. “Oh! He’s the one who knifed that poor girl then ratted on your—”

 

“Andrea had no part in that sordid affair!”

 

Vincent’s eyebrows vaulted skyward as he slapped a hand to his dropped jaw. “Oh, of course! After all, Andrea’s as pure as snow.”

 

“She absolutely did not orchestrate any of it.”

 

“If she’s clean,” Vincent said as he leaned back in his chair and propped his head up against his hand, “who’s the real puppeteer?”

 

“I’m in the dark about that.”

 

“Not even a suspicion? That’s hard to swallow Ed. Unless…” A calculating squint formed in Vincent’s eyes. “Did you have a role in that nasty little stabbing?”

 

“Goodness, no! I’m appalled you’d even suggest it!”

 

“But you’ve got to admit, it’s a pretty juicy tale to chew on.”

 

Edward’s brow furrowed. “Let’s stay on track, Mr. Sharpe. You do want to know Cassidy’s part in this matter, right?”

 

“Tell me, don’t tell me – I’ll sniff out what’s going on either way. If you don’t want me snooping around myself, get to the meat already.”

 

“Sam was the one who pointed fingers at Andrea. More recently, he was found deceased in his cell, under circumstances that have shifted from suicide to murder. Edan Cain is unraveling this mystery, which led to a conversation with my daughter about Sam. Cassidy, towards the end, recommended the charity match to help with Andrea’s image.”

 

“Was Cassidy’s pitch too polished?” Vincent asked. “Like it was set up beforehand?”

 

“Unquestionably! There’s no doubt in my mind that Cassidy’s up to something underhanded. And I wouldn’t be surprised if Mariposa is complicit!”

 

“If Mariposa is as you believe, maybe you should chat with Andrea about the people she surrounds herself with.”

 

“You think I haven’t tried? I cautioned her about Sam, advised against meeting with Cassidy, and spent a considerable amount of time during our ride home trying to persuade her to choose a different partner. And yet, despite all that, she proceeds as she wishes.”

 

“Willful, huh?” A sly smile surfaced on Vincent’s face. “That’s the kind of spirit I…admire.”

 

“I strongly advise you to steer clear of any such considerations regarding my daughter.”

 

“Racking up the favors now, aren’t we? But don’t forget, my help has its price.”

 

“Well then, Mr. Sharpe, what is it that you desire in return?”

 

“Someday,” Vincent said as his playful demeanor faded, “I’ll ask you for a favor. And when I do, you’ll oblige, no questions asked.”

 

“How could you possibly expect me to agree to something so outlandish?”

 

“Have it your way then. And have fun with Cassidy.”

 

“Let’s not be hasty, Mr. Sharpe. While I can’t agree with what you’ve asked, I am prepared to—”

 

“We’re not at a bazaar, Ed. I want a favor – your favor – and that’s it.”

 

Edward’s mouth opened then closed before a frown of indecision etched itself across his face.

 

“You’re on the clock now,” Vincent said. “You’ve thirty seconds to—”

 

“That won’t be necessary. You’ve got yourself a deal. Just ensure Cassidy and Mariposa aren’t conspiring. And even if they aren’t, do uncover whatever Cassidy is plotting. I’m sure she’s involved in something underhanded.”

 

“If Cassidy’s playing dirty, I’ll catch her. I’ve got just the right person for this job. Ever bump into Gianna Rizzo, the private detective?”

 

Alban stiffened.

 

“You have her on board?!” Edward asked. “How did you pull that off?!”

 

“You should know by now that the world tends to bend around my finger. I simply extended an invitation to Miss Rizzo, and naturally, she found the prospect of working with someone of my caliber too enticing to resist. Anyway, I’ll drop her a message and she’ll be on this in no time.”

 

“I expect consistent communication. Even the smallest piece of information could be valuable, so please, keep me in the loop.”

 

“I’ll let you know the moment there’s even a hint of trouble. For now, though, I have other engagements to tend to. Until then!”

 

Vincent ended the call, and in the quiet that followed, Alban retrieved himself a bottle and glass of whiskey. As he poured, his mind wrestled with a single question: was this the kind of intel he should be sharing?

 

There was no way Cassidy wouldn’t like hearing the news. It kept her girlfriend safe. That’s what obviously mattered most to her.

 

It wasn’t, however, what mattered most to him.

 

Uncovering Ozonnole’s true face was his mission. To figure that out, he had to be ruthless – use any strategy that gave him an edge.

 

Maybe I can twist this to work out for me, he thought as he stirred the whiskey in his hand.

 

Sure, he could just tell Cassidy… but why not go big and be the hero? Pulling Rebecca out of a Gianna-induced jam would surely score him more points. Plus, it spared him the trouble of revealing his spy game to Cassidy. It was a win-win – provided nothing went sideways.

 

With Gianna in the picture, there was always a shot at things not going smoothly…

 

Cassidy’s not exactly helpless, he noted as his thoughts rewound to the blackmail Cassidy held. She could keep Gianna in check if things got dicey. Theoretically. Still, it was risky business. In fact, bringing in Grandmaster stuff could backfire – or even be what Gianna or Vincent were angling for.

 

A sharp pain lanced through Alban’s head, forcing him to pause and wince. Then, in one fluid motion, he knocked back the whiskey. The spirit burned a path down his throat and momentarily drowned out the pounding in his head.

 

To hell with this! he decided as he clanged the glass against his desk. First, he needed to grab a smoke and clear out his head. After that, he’d consult with Lilah and take it from there.