The press conference setup transformed Blackwood's main hall into a theater of lies. Cameras clustered like mechanical flowers, their black eyes hungry for tragedy they could package into thirty-second segments. Akira stood beside Liam, letting his bulk dwarf her carefully. Five months pregnant with triplets, she'd dressed in soft pastels that Lyra insisted made her look "vulnerable." The word tasted strange—vulnerability as costume rather than weakness.
"Remember," Caleb murmured, adjusting the microphone height. "Let them see what they expect. Small. Pregnant. Harmless."
"Is game?" She kept her voice low, but satisfaction threaded through the words. "Like Trickster from old stories?"
"Exactly like that."
The leopard lawyer's smile held sharp appreciation. He understood performance, h
