Chapter Forty-Nine
Briella didn’t sleep.
The crumpled note lay on her nightstand, its words burning through her mind: You can’t trust the people closest to him.
She kept staring at it, replaying every interaction—Marcellus’s steady presence, Christopher’s loyalty, even Annabel’s teasing. And then there was Grace, Marcellus’s secretary, whose sharp eyes always seemed to linger on her a little too long.
By morning, her unease had deepened into something heavier. She forced herself into her blazer, smoothed her skirt, and fixed her expression in the mirror. No weakness. No hesitation.
At the office, she walked through the glass doors with her usual poise, but her thoughts were anything but steady.
Marcellus was already there, speaking with Grace. His tone was calm, clipped, the way he always handled business. Grace stood beside him, nodding at intervals, but when her eyes flicked toward Briella, her lips curled in the faintest sneer. Subtle. Quick. Almost invisible.
Briella caught it.
Marcellus turned at that moment, his expression softening slightly as he spotted her. “Good morning,” he greeted, stepping toward her. “I was just about to—”
“Good morning,” Briella cut in smoothly, though her voice held an edge. “Don’t let me interrupt.”
Grace’s smirk deepened just enough to be noticed before she slipped a file into Marcellus’s hand and walked away, heels clicking on the polished floor.
---
Later that afternoon, in the boardroom, Briella was leading a presentation when she noticed Grace whisper something to one of the junior staff members. The young man glanced nervously at Briella, then quickly looked away.
Her pulse quickened. There it is again.
She pushed through the meeting flawlessly, her voice steady, her points precise, but the unease grew heavier with each passing second.
---
By the end of the day, Briella retreated to her office. She had barely shut the door before Marcellus walked in, dropping a folder onto her desk.
“You’ve been quiet today,” he observed, studying her face.
She leaned back in her chair, folding her arms. “I’ve had a lot on my mind.”
His gaze lingered. “Something happen?”
Briella hesitated. Should she tell him about the note? About Grace’s subtle hostility? About the creeping sense that shadows were pressing in on them from all sides?
Not yet. She shook her head lightly. “Nothing I can’t handle.”
Marcellus stepped closer, resting his hands on the edge of her desk. His voice dropped, low and steady. “If something’s wrong, you tell me. Always. We don’t do secrets between us.”
Her throat tightened. But what if the secret is sitting right outside your office door?
Instead, she forced a small smile. “I’ll remember that.”
---
That night, as she packed up to leave, Grace brushed past her, deliberately bumping her shoulder.
“Oh—sorry, Ms. Tristan,” Grace said, her tone flat, unapologetic.
Briella’s eyes narrowed, but she said nothing. Not yet.
Because now, she was sure of one thing—Grace wasn’t just unfriendly. She was dangerous.
And whoever had written that note… was right.
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✨ End of Chapter Forty-Nine