Chapter Seven:

Elara’s POV

“Put it on speaker.” My voice is steady, but my pulse is not.

Lucien hesitates for half a second. Just enough for me to notice. Then he taps the screen. The voice returns, calm and distorted. “Miss Quinn. I assume you’re listening.”

“I am,” I say.

Lino doesn’t move, but his eyes sharpen. He looks almost curious. That unsettles me more than fear would. “You claim to have a recording,” I continue. “From the night of my crash.”

“Yes.”

“Proof?” A soft click echoes through the phone.

Then sound.

Wind. Distant traffic. My own voice, faint but clear. “If anything happens to me, release everything.”

My breath catches. Lucien’s head snaps toward me. The recording continues. Another voice overlaps mine. Male. Low. Controlled. “Are you sure you want to do this?”

Silence.

Then my voice again. Stronger this time. “I’m done protecting monsters.” The audio cuts. The room feels too small. “That’s enough for now,” the caller says. I swallow carefully. “That doesn’t prove anything.” “It proves you weren’t confused that night.”

I don’t answer. Because that part is true. “Who ordered it?” I ask. A pause.

“Meet me,” the voice replies. “Alone.” Lucien steps forward immediately. “No.” The caller chuckles softly. “Ah. The husband.” “Ex-husband,” I correct automatically. The word hangs heavier than it should.

“You have twenty-four hours,” the caller continues. “Or the full recording goes public.”

The line goes dead.

Silence.

Lucien lowers the phone slowly. Lino exhales once. “That complicates things.” I turn to him. “You knew.” His brows lift. “About the recording? No.”

“You sound disappointed.”

He smiles faintly. “I dislike unknown variables.” Lucien’s focus is on me. “You’re not going alone.” “I didn’t agree to anything yet.” “But you’re considering it.” I don’t deny that. Because I am.

The version of me in that recording wasn’t afraid. She was decisive. Angry, yes. But clear. I want to understand her. “You heard the tape,” I say quietly. “I knew something.”

“Yes,” Lucien replies.

“And you still won’t say his name.”

His jaw tightens.

Lino watches that exchange carefully. “Let’s assume the caller is telling the truth,” Lino says. “If a recording exists, someone preserved evidence after the crash.”

“That means someone wanted leverage,” I say. “Or protection,” Lucien adds. “Protection for who?” I ask. He doesn’t answer. That silence feels deliberate. “You know,” I say softly. “I suspect.” “Then say it.” His eyes flick briefly toward Lino.

Ah.

There it is. Jealousy rises unexpectedly, not romantic but territorial. I don’t like being discussed in coded glances. “Stop looking at each other like I’m not here,” I snap. Lino laughs under his breath. “She’s sharper when cornered.”

“I’m not cornered,” I reply. “You are,” Lucien says quietly.

That lands.

I turn to him slowly. “Explain.” “You’re named in an investigation. There’s a recording tying you to intent. If that tape surfaces without context, it looks like a conspiracy.”

“So I’m guilty either way.” “Unless we control the narrative.” I study him. “We?” I repeat. He holds my gaze. “Yes.” I search his face for manipulation. I find something else.

Worry.

Not corporate worry. Personal. Lino steps forward. “You’re assuming she still wants to stand beside you.” The air shifts.

Lucien doesn’t look away from me. “Do you?” The question is quiet, almost private. I hate that it affects me. “This isn’t about standing beside anyone,” I say. “It’s about surviving.” “Sometimes that requires alignment,” Lino replies. “With you?” I ask. He shrugs. “With whoever ensures stability.” Stability. That word again. “I nearly died for stability,” I say flatly. Silence follows. Lucien steps closer, lowering his voice. “You don’t have to carry this alone.”

“That sounds noble,” I reply. “But last time I trusted you, I ended up with amnesia.” The words cut sharper than I expected. He absorbs them without flinching. “You think I wanted that?” he asks. “I think you wanted control.”

“And you didn’t?”

The question stops me.

Because the recording proves something uncomfortable. I wasn’t passive, I was aggressive. “I wanted leverage,” I admit. Lino nods slightly. “Exactly.” Lucien’s eyes darken. “You wanted justice.” “Maybe both,” I say. An uneasy silence settles. Then my phone vibrates: Unknown number. All three of us freeze.

I answer.

“Yes.”

A different voice this time. Female. Breathless. “Miss Quinn?”

“Yes.”

“This is Detective Alvarez. We need you at the station immediately.” My pulse spikes. “Why?” “We’ve reopened the crash investigation.” I glance at Lucien. “What changed?” I ask. “A witness came forward.” The room goes completely still. “What witness?” I whisper. “Someone who claims the crash wasn’t accidental.”

My throat tightens.

“Who?” Lucien demands. “Your brother,” she says. Everything shatters; I slowly turn toward Lino. He doesn’t look shocked. He looks irritated. “That’s impossible,” Lucien says sharply.

“Is it?” I ask quietly.

The detective continues, “He requested immunity in exchange for testimony.”

The words echo, Immunity.

Like the caller demanded. Lino exhales slowly. “Interesting.” “Interesting?” Lucien snaps. Lino’s gaze shifts to me. Calm. Measured, “I didn’t contact them,” he says. “But you’re not surprised,” I reply. “I’m surprised at the timing.” My head spins. “You’re saying someone is impersonating you?” I ask. “Yes.” Lucien steps closer to him. “Or you made the first move.”

Lino’s composure cracks just slightly. “If I wanted you removed, I’d do it cleanly.” “Clean?” Lucien repeats. “Yes. Not with chaotic exposure.” The detective’s voice cuts through the tension. “Miss Quinn? Are you coming in?”

I force my thoughts into order.

“Yes,” I say. “I’ll be there.”

The call ends.

Silence returns, heavier than before.

“If he requested immunity,” I say slowly, looking at Lino, “then someone is using your name.”

“Or framing me,” he replies.

Lucien studies him carefully. “Why would anyone frame you?” “Because I’m the easiest villain.”

That’s true, too true. My mind races; the caller demands immunity. The detective claims Lino requested it, recording surfaces now. This isn’t random; this is orchestration. “Someone wants us divided,” I say quietly. Lucien nods once; Lino doesn’t argue.

“And if we turn on each other,” I continue, “we make it easy.” Lucien steps closer to me. “You can’t trust him.”

“I can’t fully trust you either.” That lands, and Lino’s gaze softens slightly. “Finally.” I ignore him. “If someone impersonated you,” I say to Lino, “they had access to your communication patterns.”

“Yes.”

“Which means internal access.”

Lucien’s eyes narrow.

“To what?” I ask, “To archive compliance logs?" He replies slowly. “Who controls those?” He doesn’t answer immediately, and then realization dawns across his face.

“Father,” he says. The word changes everything; I feel the air shift again. “He’s been quiet,” Lino murmurs. “Too quiet,” Lucien replies. My pulse steadies in a strange way.

Not calm.

Focus.

“If your father orchestrated this,” I say carefully, “then the crash wasn’t just about me.”

Lucien’s expression hardens. “It was about control,” he says. “And succession,” Lino adds, in silence. The pieces align too smoothly; I step toward the door. “Where are you going?” Lucien asks.

“To the station.” “You’re not going alone.” “I am.”

Lino speaks before Lucien can argue. If Father is involved, this is bigger than legal charges. “I know,” I reply.

Lucien catches my wrist gently. Not forceful. Just enough to stop me. “Elara.” I look at him. “If this is him,” he says quietly, “he won’t hesitate again.” The words sink slowly. “You think he ordered it,” I say. “I think he protects legacy above blood.”

Lino doesn’t deny it. That silence is loud. I pull my wrist free. “Then maybe it’s time the legacy answers.” I walk toward the exit.

Behind me, Lucien says sharply, “Elara, wait.” I pause but don’t turn.

“There’s something else,” he says.

“What?”

He hesitates. Then, finally, "The full recording, I've heard it before.”

My heart stops. Slowly, I turn around.

“You what?”

His eyes hold mine. “I was there when it was made.”