Chapter 4

The lie settled over the room like a physical thing. The story of the runaway bride, a piece of gossip from five years ago, was now fresh again, given life by the very people it was about. I could feel the shift in the atmosphere, the mixture of pity and contempt directed at me. David and Bethany stood there, looking like the wronged parties, paragons of strength in the face of my supposed instability.

"Honestly, Amelia," Bethany said, dabbing at a non-existent tear with a manicured fingertip. "If you're having financial trouble, you only needed to ask. David is a very generous man. We could have helped you get back on your feet."

Her words were poison wrapped in feigned pity. She was casting me as a desperate failure, someone who had crawled back from obscurity to beg for scraps from their table.

David nodded in mock solemnity. "Of course. We hold no grudges. We could even offer you an entry-level position at OmniCorp. Something in marketing, perhaps. It would be a good, stable job for you."

The arrogance was breathtaking. They believed they were so far above me that they could offer me a menial job in the empire they built on my public shame. They had no idea who they were talking to.

My eyes drifted down for a moment. Pinned to the lapel of my black jacket was a small, discreet pin. It was a simple design, an eagle with a shield, but to the few people in the world who would recognize it, it was a symbol of immense authority. It was the insignia of Project Aegis, a silent testament to my real position.

I looked back at David, meeting his smug gaze.

"No, thank you," I said, my voice quiet but firm. "I'm not looking for a job."

My simple refusal seemed to annoy him. He was used to people fawning over him, desperate for his approval.

"Don't be proud, Amelia," he said, his tone sharpening. "There's no shame in admitting you made a mistake. We all know you weren't cut out for the pressures of my world."

"Is that what you think?" I asked, a genuine curiosity in my voice.

"I know it," he said, stepping closer. He reached out and grabbed my arm, his grip surprisingly tight. It was a gesture of dominance, a physical reminder of his power. "You should just leave. You're making a scene, and you're embarrassing yourself."

As he pulled on my arm, the lapel of my jacket was jostled. The small pin, the Eagle and Shield, caught the light.

At the same time, a man walking past stumbled, bumping hard into David. The sudden jolt caused David's hand to clench tighter on my arm, and he lurched forward. His other hand, holding a champagne flute, flew out to steady himself.

The champagne sloshed over the rim, cascading down the front of my jacket.

And directly onto the pin.

The liquid seemed to react instantly with the metal. There was a faint sizzle, and a tiny wisp of smoke, almost invisible, rose from the pin. A small, almost imperceptible red light on the shield began to blink.

It was a silent distress signal, hardwired into a secure government network. A signal I never intended to use.

David didn't notice. He was too busy being angry.

"Look what you made me do!" he hissed, looking at the stain on my jacket with disgust, as if I were the one who had spilled it.

The situation had just escalated, not because of words, but because of a clumsy accident. An accident that had just sent a high-priority alert to some of the most powerful people in the country.