Evelyn’s POV
The morning after the pact smelled like thunder and ink. Contracts printed, encrypted drives sealed, new security protocols spinning online; the mansion felt more like a corporate bunker than a home.
But beneath the rush of logistics and power cables, something quieter hummed—an awareness that the war we’d agreed to fight together was now officially real.
Elias briefed us in the glass conference room. “The annual SilverHarbor Charity Gala is tonight. Crane Industries is its largest sponsor this year. Charlotte Reed will be there. Victor won’t show in person…he never does but every one of his investors will attend. We use it.”
Damian slid a tablet across the table: a list of names, seating charts, security feeds. “We leak enough to make Crane nervous,” he said. “While he lo
