Monster In Silk

⚜️ Selene's Game

Julian Blackwood woke up with Selene Hart's red nails tracing his chest and a lie already half-formed in his mouth.

The SoHo loft she rented — paid for by Revolve, by Flat Tummy Tea, and, as of last week, by $`15,000 from Page Six — was all white fur and ring lights. Julian liked it here because it was the opposite of the Blackwood Estate. No oil paintings judging him. No mother asking about his P&L. Just a girl who told him he was smarter than Adrian.

"You're smarter than Adrian," Selene murmured now, as if reading his mind. She was naked under a silk robe that was also red, always red. "You just don't need to prove it every second. Adrian has to control everything because he's scared. You... you let things happen. That's power."

Julian smiled, sleepy, hungover. He believed her. He always believed the last pretty thing anyone said to him.

"Your sister doesn't see that," Selene continued, her fingers pausing over a faded scar on his shoulder — a rowing injury from college, he had told her. "Cassie. She always thought Adrian was the powerful one. She always wanted what was powerful. Even in college."

Julian frowned. "What do you mean?"

Selene sighed, perfectly timed, perfectly wounded. She sat up, letting the robe slip, as if the memory pained her.

"I shouldn't tell you. She's your sister-in-law now. But... you should know who you're defending. In college, I had this idea for an article — about fast fashion brands using unpaid interns. My idea. I told Cassie about it over dinner. Two weeks later, she published it in The Herald under her byline. Got her first award. She said she forgot it was my idea. She always forgot when it mattered."

It was a lie. Cassie had pitched that article a year before Selene even knew what an intern was. But Julian didn't know that. Julian only knew that Selene's eyes were wet.

"She does that," Selene whispered. "She takes. She took my dad, you know. My dad married her mom, and then he spent all his attention on Cassie because Cassie was 'the smart one.' And now she took Adrian. Do you think she loves him? A man she met three weeks ago?"

Julian sat up now, fully awake. The story fit too neatly with what he already suspected. Adrian's rushed City Hall wedding, the contract leak yesterday, the `$500K. Of course Cassie was after money. Everyone was after Adrian's money. Why would she be different?

"She told me she needed money for her mom," Julian said slowly.

"She always needs money for her mom," Selene said, her voice sweet with venom. "My mom — I mean, her mom — has been sick for three years. Cassie could have gotten a real job. She freelances because she likes to be the victim. It's her brand. Poor, noble journalist. And now poor, noble wife."

She leaned in, her lips brushing his ear. "I worry about Adrian. He thinks he's buying a wife who will be grateful. But she's just like me, Julian. Only better at pretending she's not."

Julian felt a flash of loyalty to his brother, strange and sour. Adrian, who had always bailed him out, who had paid his gambling debts twice, who had never once called him a failure to his face, only implied it with silence.

"I should tell him," Julian said.

"No," Selene said quickly. Too quickly. She recovered. "No, he won't believe you. He's... obsessed with her. Did you see how he looked at her at dinner? Like she was a thing he owned? That's not love. That's possession. If you tell him, he'll think you're jealous. Like he always thinks."

She stood, walked to her vanity, picked up her phone. On it, a photo of the black silk handkerchief with S.H. embroidered, the one from Marcus's drawer.

"Unless," she said, turning the phone so Julian could see, "we show him proof that she's not who she says she is. That she's been investigating him longer than she says. That she had photos of Marcus before he died and didn't go to police."

Julian stared at the handkerchief. "Where did you get that?"

Selene smiled, and for a second, her real face showed — cold, calculating.

"I found it," she said. "And I'm going to give it back to the rightful owner. For a price. And then Adrian will see that Cassie and I... we're not so different. We both take what we need to survive."

That afternoon, Cassie was at the penthouse, trying to work. The leak had made her unemployable for the day — every editor who would have taken her call was now asking for comment on her marriage.

The intercom buzzed.

"Ms. Hart — Mrs. Blackwood," Silas's voice, tight. "Julian is downstairs. He wants to see you. Alone. He says it's about Selene."

Cassie's stomach dropped. "Let him up."

Julian arrived looking worse than usual — pale, unshaved, eyes darting. He didn't hug her this time.

"Cassie, we need to talk," he said, pacing the living room. "About Selene. About you."

"Okay."

"Selene told me... she told me you stole her article idea in college. And that you only married Adrian for the hospital money. And that you had photos of Marcus before he died and didn't tell anyone."

Cassie stared. "Julian, that's not -"

"I saw the handkerchief!" Julian burst out. "She has a handkerchief with her initials, from Marcus's office. She said you knew about it. That you and she were working together to get money from Adrian. Is that true? Did you know about the $`47M?"

For a second, Cassie understood the whole game. Selene wasn't just trying to steal Adrian. She was trying to isolate Cassie, make Julian doubt her, so that when Adrian finally found the real ledger, Julian would already be on Selene's side.

She took a breath, journalist brain on.

"Julian," she said calmly, sitting down, making him sit too. "Look at me. Do you really think I would plan a fake marriage, leak my own contract for fifteen thousand dollars, and then stay in this penthouse being called a gold-digger on Page Six for fun?"

Julian frowned. "She said you leaked it -"

"Silas traced the leak to SoHo. To Selene's IP address. She sold our contract, Julian. Not me. I have the report. Do you want to see it?"

She pulled out her laptop. Silas had sent her the trace.

Julian read it. His face went white, then red.

"She... she told me you did it for sympathy..."

"Julian," Cassie said, softer now, because despite everything, he was Adrian's brother and he looked like a boy who had been conned. "Selene is good at stories. She told you I stole her idea. I didn't. I have the pitch email from a year before. She told you I only married for money. I married because my mom was dying and Adrian offered help. That's true. I'm not going to lie about that. But I didn't know about the `$47M until Adrian showed me. And neither did you."

Julian put his head in his hands. "f**k. f**k, Cassie, I'm so -"

"Don't apologize to me. Apologize to your brother. And stop giving Selene your mother's keycard."

Julian looked up, stricken. "How did you -"

"We were in the finance archive last night," Cassie said. "We saw you. We saw her."

Silence fell, heavy.

Then Julian whispered, "Does Adrian know I owe Van Alen money? That I borrowed from them to cover Singapore?"

Cassie's heart sank. So that was the missing link.

"How much?"

"Two million. They said if I got Adrian to marry Elise, they'd forgive it. Selene was supposed to help. She was supposed to... I don't know. Make Elise look good and Cassie look bad."

Cassie closed her laptop. She finally understood. Selene wasn't the mastermind. She was the middlewoman. Van Alen was using Selene to use Julian to force the merger.

"Julian," she said, "you need to tell Adrian. Today. Before Selene sells that handkerchief to Van Alen."

Julian nodded, tears in his eyes. For all his charm, he was just a kid who wanted his big brother to be proud of him.

At that moment, the elevator dinged. Adrian walked in, early from work, tie loosened, face thunderous. He saw Julian on his couch next to his wife.

"Julian," he said, voice glacial. "Why are you here?"

Julian stood, shaking. "Adrian, I need to tell you something. About Selene. About Van Alen. About the money I -"

Adrian looked at Cassie. Cassie gave a tiny nod: He's ready to tell the truth.

Adrian's shoulders dropped a fraction. "Sit down, Julian. Both of you. And someone pour me a whisky. A large one. It seems my family is even more f****d up than I thought."

In SoHo, Selene stared at her phone. Julian had not texted back in three hours. The Page Six money was already spent. And the photo of the silk handkerchief she had tried to sell to Richard Van Alen had bounced — his assistant said Mr. Van Alen did not negotiate with influencers.

She needed a new plan.

She opened i********: and typed a new message, this time to Eleanor Blackwood.

Mrs. Blackwood, it's Selene. I'm worried about Cassie. I think she's lying to Adrian about the money. Can we meet? I have proof.

Send.

The trap was set. Again.