Lucy calls before we've even left the airport.
"We need to talk," she says, her voice tight with urgency. "In person. Today."
My stomach drops. I agree to meet her at a discreet cafe in Midtown, the kind of place where no one pays attention to anyone else's conversations.
Nathan doesn't want me to go. I can see it in the tension of his jaw, the way his hand tightens on mine in the car, almost painful.
"I'll be fine," I assure him, though my heart is racing. "She's my friend."
"Former friend," he corrects quietly, and the words sting. "She's been working against me for weeks, Eve. Against us."
I don't argue because he would not understand. So I kiss Nathan goodbye outside the cafe, feeling his reluctance in every line of his body, tasting his fear on my lips. "I love you," I whisper, needing him to know.
"I love you," he says back, his voice rough with emotion, and then lets me go.
Lucy is already waiting inside, a thick file folder on the table in front of her. She looks exhausted, dark circles under her eyes, her usual polish dimmed. She looks like she's been crying.
"Eve," she says as I sit down. Not warm. Not welcoming. Just... sad. So unbearably sad.
"Lucy," I order coffee from the hovering barista, my hands trembling. "You wanted to talk."
She slides the folder across the table with shaking hands. "I hired a private investigator. He's very good."
My heart sinks. I don't open the folder. Just look at her, already knowing what's inside, already feeling the weight of it. "Why?"
"Because I love you," she says, her voice breaking, tears filling her eyes. "Because I've watched you disappear into Nathan Hale's world, and I had to know the truth. I had to know if I was crazy for thinking—"
She stops, swallows hard, a tear sliding down her cheek. "Open it. Please."
I flip open the folder with trembling hands.
The first page is a timeline. A detailed, damning timeline of Nathan's involvement in my life and my company. Not starting when we met at the club, but years before.
Five years before, to be exact.
My breath catches. My hands start shaking so badly that I can barely hold the pages.
Investments made through shell companies. Strategic business relationships cultivated. Competitors quietly discouraged. All the pieces falling into place to guide me, shape me, position me exactly where he wanted me.
"He orchestrated everything," Lucy says quietly, tears streaming down her face now. "The club, the takeover, everything. None of it was a coincidence, Eve. It was all him, planning and executing a years-long strategy to make you his."
I turn the pages slowly, each revelation hitting like a physical blow. Bank records. Communications. A web of manipulation so thorough, so complete, it's almost beautiful in its execution.
My vision blurs with tears.
"Say something," Lucy pleads, reaching for my hand. "Tell me you're angry. Tell me you're going to leave him. Tell me—"
"I knew," I say quietly, my voice breaking.
She stops. Stares. "What?"
"Not the details. Not this." I gesture to the folder, tears falling onto the pages. "But I knew he'd been watching me. Manipulating events. I'm not stupid, Lucy."
"Then why—" She leans forward desperately, gripping my hand. "Why are you still with him? Why are you letting him control you?"
I close the folder and meet her eyes, both of us crying now. "Because I choose to be."
The devastation on her face nearly breaks me. "Eve, that's not—you can't—"
