The street outside Cecile’s studio was quiet, the golden glow of streetlights stretching shadows along the pavement. Emily pulled her coat tighter around her shoulders as she stepped outside, her mind still spinning from everything she had just uncovered. The truth about Julian’s father, the ties to Devereux—it was more than she had expected. More than she knew how to process.
Her phone vibrated in her pocket. She frowned, glancing down at the screen. Unknown Number.
She hesitated, then answered. “Hello?”
A low, steady voice came through the line. “Miss Wilson.”
Her stomach tightened. “Who is this?”
“A friend. Someone who knows what you’re walking into.” The voice was calm, deliberate. “If you want the truth about Julian Blackwood, I suggest you meet me.”
Emily swallowed hard. “I don
