Chapter Eight: Secrets
1133 Words
London · Clerkenwell
16:45
Eva arrived at the bar called The Blind Pig—the very place where they had first met.
“Lovely dress today,” Leo said. He had already been waiting at the bar. “It suits you.”
“Though I’m wondering… should I call you Ella, or—Eva?”
A smile lingered on his face, though there seemed to be something else behind it.
“You may call me whatever you like,” Eva replied. “Let’s not waste time. Why exactly did you ask me here?”
“Another gin and tonic?”
Eva did not refuse. She deliberately let her gaze drift elsewhere.
“Let’s exchange a secret.”
“What? I have no interest in your secrets.”
“I never said it was mine.” Leo slid the glass toward her. “It’s about Liam’s fiancée. Aren’t you curious?”
Eva’s fingers paused on the rim of the glass for a single second.
She was curious. Far too curious. Over the past month she had asked herself the question countless times, only to swallow it back just as often. She wanted to hear it from Liam himself. If he chose not to tell her, perhaps they simply did not know each other well enough yet. Or perhaps he had other thoughts—other plans.
“All right,” she said at last. “Deal.”
“Liam knows where she is,” Leo said, watching her closely. “He found out.”
Eva stared at him.
“And?” she said coolly. “Did you bring me here to sow discord between us—so that I might fall in love with you instead?”
She was always like this, able to see through a man’s petty schemes with effortless clarity. She knew that was not Leo’s true intention.
Leo laughed. Lifting his glass, he drained it in a single swallow.
The bar lights were dim and seductive, just as they had been on the night they first met. He wore a floral shirt, only two buttons fastened, his chest faintly visible beneath the open fabric. The soft clink of liquor swirling in the glass kept Eva clear-headed.
Men and women of every sort lingered here—flirting, chasing one-night stands, even betraying their partners.
Any one of them might be some housewife’s pitiful husband, some girl’s devoted boyfriend, some lawyer’s secret lover.
Yet here they vanished into smoke and shadow, drunk beneath swirling skirts and dim light.
“You only need to answer one question,” Leo said after finishing his drink, much of the frivolity gone from his voice. “What we had… was it truly nothing more than a test?”
Eva looked at him.
“When you cried and told me you loved me—was that all a lie?”
She did not even pause to think.
“A lie.”
Leo nodded and poured himself another drink.
“I appreciate that you didn’t humiliate me,” he said quietly. “But Liam’s past—I want him to tell me about it himself. And if he doesn’t wish to, I won’t force him.”
“It seems you’ve truly fallen for him.” Leo smiled faintly this time, the gesture light and soundless. “Very well. I’ll admit it—I asked you here today simply because I wanted to see you. I still haven’t forgotten the girl named Ella. I thought, for a moment, that she had truly come back.”
“It seems I overestimated my importance.”
Eva stood.
“Stop drinking. This isn’t the sort of place you should bring girls. Next time, come to my café—I’ll treat you.”
Leo idly spun the bottle on the table with one hand, watching her walk away.
“Ella,” he murmured, “you’re still as ruthless as ever. Not even a farewell kiss before you leave.”
Eva did not turn back.
As she pushed open the door, she heard him greeting another girl behind her.
“Hey, Lisa—how have you been lately? Long time no see. You’re looking more charming than ever.”
The door closed behind her.
London · Shoreditch
19:30
Eva did not go straight to Liam’s apartment.
Instead, she returned home and opened the black notebook. For six years, every assignment had been recorded within its pages—the target’s name, the role she had assumed, the duration of the operation, the outcome, and the contact information of the client who had placed the order.
She turned to the relevant page.
Case No.: 119
Target: Chris Banks, 35, contractor
Assumed Identity: Independent curator (Ella)
Client: Mia Banks (wife)
Notes: Suspects husband of infidelity. Evidence required. Scheduled meeting: December 7, 19:30, Amber Bar.
December 7.
That was the night Chris never appeared.
Instead, it was Liam who had arrived.
Eva stared at the date, her mind beginning to reconstruct the timeline piece by piece.
She dialed Cherry’s number.
“Do you remember much about the Chris case?”
“What’s going on?” Cherry’s voice sharpened with suspicion. “Why are you suddenly asking about this?”
“I need to know everything. How did the client contact you? And when?”
There was a brief silence on the other end. Then came the rustling sound of Cherry searching through papers.
“Found it,” Cherry said. “Mia Banks. She sent an email on the evening of December 5. Said her husband had been coming home late for the past six months, had put a password on his phone, and she suspected he was having an affair. She wanted proof—as soon as possible. Her lawyer told her that if she could prove infidelity, she’d get thirty percent more in the divorce settlement.”
“December 5,” Eva repeated softly.
“Right. I replied that you were already working on another case and wouldn’t be available until after December 7 at the earliest. She said that was fine—sooner the better. She would make sure he went to the Amber Bar on the evening of December 7.”
Eva tightened her grip on the phone, her heartbeat quickening.
“And then?”
“And then, on the afternoon of December 7, she suddenly sent a message canceling,” Cherry said. “Said her husband had something come up and couldn’t make it. I even swore at the time—cases like that are the worst, blocking your schedule for nothing.”
“She didn’t explain why she canceled?”
“No. Just said, ‘Circumstances have changed. Let’s postpone for now.’” Cherry paused. “Eva… what exactly are you investigating?”
Eva did not answer.
Because, quite suddenly, she remembered something else.
- Writer
