Chapter 6
1009 Words
“He spoke like Shakespeare dipped in honey, but Olivia only heard alarm bells ringing behind his eyes.”
The first time Simeon Leclerc walked into the lecture hall, every pair of eyes turned, some out of admiration, others with suspicion. He was impossibly polished: crisp navy blazer, tortoiseshell glasses he didn’t need, a French accent that danced like candlelight, and a smile so perfectly timed it felt rehearsed.
“Bonjour,” he greeted, stepping behind the lectern like he belonged there. “I am Dr. Simeon Leclerc, visiting from the University of Lyon. I specialize in literature of war, resistance, and the human cost of silence.”
The word “silence” made Olivia shift uncomfortably in her seat near the back.
Elicia, however, was all but floating. She’d dragged Olivia to the literature seminar as a distraction. “You need something soft after all that murder and money,” she’d whispered.
Olivia had agreed, until the angel-faced con artist started talking.
Simeon’s lecture was mesmerizing. He quoted Camus and Baldwin in the same breath, spoke of freedom as a fragile glass always near shattering. But Olivia wasn’t listening to the content, she was watching the way his gaze skimmed the audience, resting too long on those who didn’t look away.
Predators know their prey.
At the end, Elicia all but melted as she approached him. “Your analysis of resistance as poetic structure, God, that was... stunning.”
He smiled, stepping closer, offering his hand. “Merci. But it is your attention that made it worth sharing.”
Olivia joined reluctantly. Simeon turned his smile on her, extending his hand.
“Miss?”
“Olivia Castillo,” she replied coolly, not taking it. “My father’s a pastor. I’m used to charismatic men who love the sound of their own voice.”
His smile flickered, just for a second. “A rare gift, skepticism.”
“Usually comes from experience.”
Elicia nudged her. “Be nice.”
Simeon’s eyes glinted. “Perhaps she is right to question me. The world is full of men who hide behind charm.”
“And you’re not one of them?”
“No,” he said simply. “I am far more dangerous.”
*
Later that night, Olivia stood outside the literature building, the USB Juliet left now hidden in the lining of her bag. Simeon’s words echoed in her head.
I am far more dangerous.
Why would a French academic show up in the middle of an election scandal, a murder investigation, and Kingsley Rothschild’s growing reach?
“Too smooth,” she muttered.
As if summoned, Simeon stepped from the shadows.
“I believe I owe you an apology,” he said.
She jumped. “For what?”
“For being too... polished, perhaps. It is my curse. My mother said I entered the world like a butler ready to pour tea.”
Olivia smirked despite herself. “You really never drop character, do you?”
“I’m always myself, Miss Castillo. Just different shades.”
He lit a cigarette, offering her one. She declined.
“You didn’t come here for literature,” she said.
He didn’t pretend to be surprised. “What makes you say that?”
“You flinch when students mention Rothschild. You knew Juliet’s name before anyone said it. You watched Elicia like she was a code.”
He took a long drag. “Impressive. You should consider espionage.”
“Just give me the truth.”
Simeon tilted his head, the smile fading.
“I’m here because someone paid me to observe Kingsley’s influence on the campus,” he said softly. “Juliet contacted the wrong people, thinking they could help. They didn’t. They hired me too late.”
Olivia's blood chilled. “You’re a spy.”
“I prefer... information broker.”
“And you’re seducing Elicia for what, access?”
“No,” he said quietly. “That part wasn’t planned.”
She wasn’t sure she believed him.
“Stay away from her,” she warned.
“She’s not your possession.”
“No, but she’s not your tool either.”
He nodded, taking another puff. “You’re dangerous too, Olivia. Juliet saw it in you.”
That struck her. “You knew her?”
He looked away. “Not the way Michael did. But enough to mourn her.”
She stepped closer. “Then help me. I have proof. Files. Bank records. Audio.”
“Show me.”
She hesitated. “Why should I trust you?”
“Because the walls are closing in on all of us. And you don’t want to be alone when they do.”
*
Back in her dorm, Olivia pulled out a secondary USB with a decoy set of Juliet’s files, just in case. She plugged it in, handed it to Simeon.
As he clicked through the folders, his expression shifted from detached to razor-sharp focus.
“This... this is serious,” he muttered. “If this gets out, Kingsley’s empire will bleed.”
“And Juliet’s death won’t be for nothing.”
He looked up. “If you really want justice, you’ll need someone who can outplay them. Kingsley, Michael’s father, even your own dad.”
“Why Michael’s father?” she asked.
Simeon raised an eyebrow. “You don’t know?”
“Know what?”
“Michael’s father runs the boxing circuit that funds Rothschild’s private security. They’re not rivals. They’re partners. And Juliet found the link.”
The room spun.
“She didn’t just die because she pushed too far,” he said. “She died because she connected the wrong dots.”
Olivia backed away, voice trembling. “My father pushed me toward Kingsley. My best friend is dating you. The man I’m beginning to trust is possibly entangled in Juliet’s death. And now you say Michael’s family is part of this?”
Simeon looked up at her, no longer charming.
“This isn’t a war of right and wrong, Olivia. It’s a chessboard. And the game’s already begun.”
- Writer
