Anna gripped the edge of the linen-draped table so hard the silver rings on her fingers bit into her skin. She couldn’t believe it. Of all people, Elias... Elias, the spare, the quiet one she’d left behind like an old coat, had just walked past her as if she were invisible. He hadn’t even slowed.
Heat rushed up her neck, blotching the expensive powder at her throat. She had married a man who could bend entire boards to his will, a man that ascended to be a god. She was carrying his child. And still she had to sit here and argue with waiters about a nu while her own brother, her useless, spineless brother, was ushered through a private door on the arm of Victor Nun like so untouchable prince.
Victor Nun. She’d heard the na. Everyone had. The crippled heir who’d barely survived the crash, who’d been whispered about as finished, washed up, and bound to a wheelchair for the rest of his life. And yet there he was, striding across the restaurant, burgundy suit catching the light, walking as if nothing had ever been wrong, and Elias... Elias at his side, looking expensive and unbothered.
Her nails dug deeper into the tablecloth. ’How?’ How had the boy who could never do anything right ended up with a seat in the restricted dining room, a hand at his back, and a godling smiling down at him as if he were sothing precious? And she, Anna Clarke Adler, was left standing in a corner with a plate she couldn’t eat and a room full of people pretending not to watch her.
The humiliation burned as much as the disbelief. She pressed a palm to her stomach, the gesture as practiced as breathing, and forced her voice back into a purr. ’He can’t ignore . He can’t.’ She wasn’t just so sister anymore. She was Mrs. Adler. She was carrying a legacy. And if Elias thought he could walk past her without consequence, he was about to be reminded of exactly what she could do.
Anna forced a shallow, asured breath through her nose, the way she’d been taught for interviews and fund-raisers. She would not scream. She would not let them see her seethe. Without another word to the trembling waiters, she plucked her clutch from the back of her chair and turned on her heel.
"Handle it," she murmured to the woman waiting just behind her.
"Yes, ma’am." The alpha’s tone was flat and efficient; she was already reaching for a black card and speaking to the manager, the very picture of damage control. Anna didn’t bother to look back. She let the murmurs wash over her as she swept out of the dining room, the click of her heels cutting through the muted music.
By the ti she slid into the back of her limousine, the mask was back in place, all pale silk and controlled gestures. She closed the door, shut out the flashbulb glare of the restaurant windows, and only then allowed her fingers to tighten on the phone.
Elias. Useless, soft-spoken Elias, walking past her like she was a stranger, like she was beneath him. She stared at her own reflection in the darkened glass, pulse drumming in her temples. He had always been easy to overlook, easy to dismiss. But now he was on Victor Nun’s arm. And Victor Nun had made even worse n disappear.
Fine. If her brother wanted to play at being untouchable, she would remind him how fragile he really was.
She scrolled to the familiar number and pressed call. It rang once before her father’s voice ca on, clipped and cold. "Anna?"
"I need to talk," she said, her voice sweet as poison. "About Elias."
A pause. "What about him?"
She turned her head toward the window, watching the city sar past in streaks of light and glass, a smile ghosting at the corner of her mouth. "I’ve just had a thought," she murmured into the phone. "If people can be made to believe he’s not who they think he is... if soone were to tie him to Matteo Weller’s death..."
Another pause, heavier this ti.
"Yes," Anna said softly, eyes narrowing at her reflection. "Let’s talk about that..."
"No." Jonathan Clarke’s voice cut in, cold and emotionless. "We don’t have to do anything."
Anna’s grip on the phone tightened. "But he humiliated !" she hissed, her composure cracking. "In public."
"It doesn’t matter," Jonathan said, still flat. "He’s already being handled by Stone. We don’t need any other interference."
For a heartbeat she couldn’t breathe. Her own father was telling her, her, the wife of a god, that she couldn’t act? That she had to sit quietly while Elias was paraded through a private dining room like so prize?
"Fine," she said at last, voice clipped. She ended the call with a swipe of her thumb, the reflection of her own furious eyes still staring back from the glass.
If Jonathan wouldn’t help, she would do it herself.
Anna scrolled to another number, this one saved under an innocuous label. The phone rang twice before a man answered, voice pitched low and wary. "Mrs. Adler?"
"Marco," Anna said, her tone honeyed but firm. "You still owe for getting your brother’s case buried."
A beat of silence. "I... I do. Of course. Is this about—"
"It’s what you know to do best," she cut in smoothly. "Nothing more than gossip. My brother is the youngest son of the Nun family."
There was a shift on the other end of the line, the faint scrape of a pen against a desk. "Nun?" Marco asked, now more awake, interest sharpening his voice. "As in Victor Nun?"
"Yes," Anna purred. "The sa Victor who was bound to a wheelchair just a few months ago and is now walking fine. Nun Corp hasn’t addressed that miracle yet. And..." she let the pause drag, "he also has a mate. My brother."
Marco gave a low whistle. "That’s... a headline. You’re saying the invalid heir is walking again and secretly bonded to soone no one knew about?"
"Not secretly," Anna said, her smile ghosting in the dark glass of the limo window. "Just unannounced. The photographs will be in your inbox within the hour. Make sure you run them. Speculative captions, questions, nothing you can be sued for yet."
He hesitated. "Mrs. Adler, that’s going to blow up. Nun Corp has claws."
"They won’t scratch you," Anna said softly, steel under the sugar. "You’ll only be echoing what everyone’s already whispering. Pictures, a question mark, nothing more. And when the speculation is properly warm, you’ll get the next part."
"The next part..." he repeated carefully.
"Nas," Anna murmured. "So allegations with sufficient evidence to keep anyone discussing them safe. The kind of story that turns a quiet man into a headline."
On the other end Marco exhaled slowly, torn between nerves and the scent of a scoop. "All right," he said at last. "Send what you have. I’ll draft the first piece as a blind item and let the pictures carry it."
Anna’s smile sharpened like a blade. "Good. And rember, Marco... your brother still owes . Don’t forget which side you’re on."
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