"Of course, sir."
Perfect. Everything about tomorrow must be perfect. The suit, the location, the words I'll use to finally reveal myself. I've spent years preparing for this moment—I won't allow a single detail to be wrong.
Giovanni steps back, examining his work. "The suit will be ready by morning, Mr. Hale. Delivered to your residence by eight."
"Excellent." I meet my reflection's eyes, seeing the determination there, the dark hunger I've kept carefully controlled for so long. Tomorrow, I think. Tomorrow, she'll finally see me. Really see me.
And then she'll understand that she was always meant to be mine.
Or she'll see exactly what I am—a monster taught by monsters.
I push the doubt away. It doesn't matter. She's mine regardless of what she sees.
***
Back in the observation room, I watch the courier approach Eve's office building. He's one of Bjorn's men, dressed in the uniform of an exclusive delivery service, carrying a single envelope on a silver tray.
I switch to the camera in Eve's office. She's at her desk, reviewing fabric samples with that crease of concentration between her brows that I find utterly endearing. She has no idea her world is about to tilt on its axis.
The knock on her door makes her look up. I watch her surprise as her assistant shows in the courier, watch her confusion as he presents the envelope with a formal bow.
She takes it slowly, her fingers trembling slightly as she breaks the black wax seal embossed with my crest—a detail she won't recognize yet, but will understand soon enough.
I lean forward, my breath catching as she opens the invitation. Heavy card stock, hand-lettered in elegant script:
"Miss Sinclair,
Your presence is requested tomorrow evening at eight o'clock at the Elysian Club. Come alone. All your questions will be answered.
Yours, N.H."
I watch the color drain from her face as she reads it once, twice, three times. She knows. Of course she knows. Those initials, the formality of the invitation, the sheer audacity of summoning her—it can only be from one person.
Her stalker. Her ghost. Me.
She sets the card down with shaking hands, and I see the war playing out across her expressive face. Fear, yes. Confusion. Anger at the presumption of it. But underneath all of that, I see what I've been carefully cultivating for years.
Curiosity. The desperate, reckless need to finally know who's been haunting her life.
She picks up her phone, probably to call Lucy, to tell her friend about this insane development. But then she pauses, and I see the moment she makes the decision. This is hers. This confrontation, this revelation, this terrifying step into the unknown.
She's coming. I knew she would, but seeing the determination settle over her features fills me with dark satisfaction.
My queen is about to meet her king.
I sit back in my chair, allowing myself a smile. The game is over. Tomorrow begins something new—something that will bind us together forever, whether she understands it yet or not.
"Soon," I whisper to her image on the screen. "Soon, my beautiful Eve, you'll understand that everything I've done has been for this. For us."
She tucks the invitation into her purse, her hands still trembling. I watch her sit there for a long moment, staring at nothing, her mind clearly racing.
Tomorrow, those questions stop. Tomorrow, she gets her answers.
Tomorrow, I claim what's mine.
Chapter 11 - Eve
Lucy's voice is frantic on the other end of the line, high-pitched with panic that mirrors the terror I'm trying desperately to suppress.
