Time: Friday morning – just minutes before ten
Location: One of the lavish corridors leading to the back gardens of the Palace of Versailles
The corridor is wide, bright, and bustling with refined activity.
Footsteps echo across the polished marble floor as servants pass by with small carts carrying tea or flowers. Nobles and noblewomen exchange smiles brimming with politeness—and diplomatic cunning.
In this well-orchestrated crowd, Bella walks between Amélie and Renier.
Her steps are steady, light, but they exude an authority that no one dares question.
She's dressed in a deep burgundy tailored suit, the buttons polished in rose gold. Her shoes gleam with custom craftsmanship.
Amélie walks beside her, wearing a sandy beige suit with a rosy accent, holding her phone in a seemingly casual grip.
Renier trails slightly behind, clad in a clean-cut dark jacket, walking with the watchful eye of a seasoned observer.
Bella (in a low yet clear voice, her tone calm but commanding):
"Renier, in a few minutes, you'll head to the western lounge.
You'll find Gérard and Edmond there… Tell them some ladies of the court wish to thank them for their contribution to the recent diplomatic dinner."
Renier (softly, hiding a smirk):
"So… we're rewarding them with half an hour of salon conversation. That's crueler than interrogation."
Bella (winking without looking at him):
"We all suffer for justice."
Amélie (leaning toward Bella, whispering curiously):
"And me? Do I just observe from a distance?"
Bella (turning to her gracefully):
"You… will exploit the silence."
Amélie (raising an eyebrow):
"Oh, lovely. How far do I exploit it?"
Bella (with calm professionalism):
"I want you to enter both their rooms again. One after the other.
Take pictures of the furniture details, layout, window placements, ceilings—even anything odd in the corners.
This time… we're not looking for clues. We're looking for leverage."
Renier (with a sideways smile):
"You mean… in case the rooms are being used for secret operations or something?"
Bella (shakes her head):
"No… I want those photos for other purposes—like a little reminder that their rooms in the palace are known. Are you ready?"
Amélie (twirling her phone):
"Absolutely, my lady. Camera's ready. Eyes are open."
Bella (lowering her voice slightly as they near the turn leading to the garden):
"We meet in half an hour… in my room. Each of you returns quietly."
Renier:
"Understood."
Amélie:
"Crystal clear—like the Hall of Mirrors."
Bella (smiling as she takes the lead):
"Good. Let the show begin."
•••
Time: Friday Morning – Ten o'clock
Place: The shaded pathways leading to the Jardin du Roi
Sunlight peeked shyly through rows of linden and perfectly manicured boxwood trees. The gravel path—clean and crisp—branched toward the rear garden, where the ladies of the court awaited their tea and luxury-dipped gossip.
Bella walked with composed steps—every movement precise, deliberate.
But… just before she reached the royal terrace where the noblewomen were gathered—
A voice rang out behind her, like a spoon tapping porcelain:
??? (from behind):
"Ah, Bella Leclair! Goodness… I thought you were in New York, or hiding away on one of those fashion crusades you host on islands no one's heard of!"
Bella turned slowly, the polite smile already fixed on her face before her eyes even met the source.
Standing there was Lady Léonie de Boisard.
In her late forties, wearing a wide hat decked in feathers that looked like they were plucked straight from a rebellious gypsy rooster. Her emerald green suit gave the impression the gemstone itself had suffocated. Her vivid lipstick tried valiantly to mask the wrinkles, buried under layers of powder.
Léonie (opening her arms theatrically):
"You look stunning as always, darling! But… hold on… you're alone?!
Where's Amory?! I mean, I've never seen you at an event without him. Even at the Golden Crocodile gala, he sat beside you like a shadow."
Bella (with diplomatic charm and a light smile):
"Ah, Amory… He couldn't make it this time. Some urgent business matters at his company.
You know how work can be—impatient and unyielding."
Léonie (sighing as though she'd lost a war comrade):
"Oh, what a shame… I didn't particularly like him, but he certainly stirred conversation.
Do you remember when he said Russian caviar was unfit for consumption—in front of four Russian ladies?
What a… candid man."
Bella (laughing gently, but without warmth):
"Amory has… opinions. They're hard to contain sometimes."
Léonie (leaning in, whispering like someone holding a delicious secret):
"Tell me the truth… is there something going on?
I mean, people don't just vanish from the social scene without a reason.
And you know me… I don't assume.
I just… observe."
Bella (with a kind but pointed look):
"A rare skill, Lady de Boisard… but I assure you, there's nothing worth printing in the society columns."
Léonie (smiling, unconvinced):
"Oh darling… I'll leave that to your judgment.
But if you ever need an ear… or a long cup of tea—I'm around."
Bella (giving a respectful nod):
"Thank you… I'll keep your offer in mind."
Léonie (gesturing toward the garden):
"I won't keep you—tea awaits me. And so do the ladies.
Oh, and… I'll be very close, should you wish to talk about… anything at all."
Bella (smiling steadily):
"Of course."
She resumed walking, her pace as composed as before—yet inside, she muttered:
Bella (internally):
"If I had a franc for every time someone tried to pry out my secrets or gossip in front of me… I'd have bought this palace instead of just visiting it."
But as she moved away, she noticed Lady Léonie's shadow had not disappeared.
She stopped, forcing a smile, then turned her head. Lady Léonie met her gaze with a slight look of surprise—then smiled sweetly.
Lady Léonie (with a laugh like crystal glasses wiped with sandpaper):
"Oh darling, it seems… we're headed in the same direction!"
Bella (with rehearsed calm):
"Indeed. I was just on my way to the court ladies' table."
Léonie (with a laugh straight from a dramatic opera ad):
"Same destination! My dear… what do you say we go together?"
Bella (without a real choice):
"It would be my pleasure."
Léonie walked two steps ahead, the feathers on her hat bouncing as if mocking Bella behind her back.
Bella extended her hand briefly, raised her middle finger (🖕🏻) in a half-hidden gesture, then returned her hand as though adjusting her sleeve.
Bella (internally):
"Everything is going according to plan.
She should be grateful I had to involve her in the mission.
If not for that… I wouldn't have turned around just to acknowledge her existence."
•••
Same location
Place: Jardin du Roi, the rear garden of the Palace of Versailles
Beneath a silky white canopy, a long round table had been set, surrounded by elegant chairs embroidered with the emblem of the golden eagle.
Silver teapots sparkled under the sunlight, and the soft clinking of teaspoons mixed with the light laughter and curious glances of the court ladies.
Their garments shimmered in a luxurious palette—burgundy red, royal blue, deep indigo, soft yellow with white, and the faintest shades of pink.
The conversation wasn't really about tea… but rather about who didn't attend—and who attended far too often.
Bella approached with measured steps, the sound of her graceful heels clicking softly.
At her side was Lady Léonie, who hadn't paused her chatter for even a second.
Some of the ladies turned at once upon seeing them.
Among them sat Lady Madeleine de Rochefort, well into her sixties, known as "the social memory of the court."
Madeleine (with a tone full of performative affection):
"Ah, look who's decided to brighten our morning… Now the day may officially begin, dear Bella."
Bella (bowing with polite grace):
"My lady, such kindness I don't deserve—but I shall treasure it nonetheless."
Éléonore de Saint-Claire, a noblewoman in her mid-thirties, wore delicate white lace gloves and pretended to jot something down in a small notebook.
She looked up at Bella with a testing smile:
Éléonore:
"Did you bring us the latest fashion secrets from Paris—or are you just here to eavesdrop?"
Bella (taking her seat with elegance, placing her teacup in front of her):
"I came to enjoy the ladies' company… and eavesdrop, naturally, from my far end of the table."
The group laughed lightly, in that high-society tone only the wealthy had perfected. The sound of gentle sipping followed.
A maid poured tea into Bella's cup, added a sugar cube, and stirred it with delicate precision.
Léonie (seated beside her, whispering):
"Try not to mention Amory too much—the curiosity here is contagious."
Bella (softly, without turning):
"I don't intend to. No one brings their ghosts to a tea party."
Éléonore (raising an eyebrow):
"By the way, weren't you with a tall, handsome gentleman yesterday?
On the stairs? Or am I imagining things?"
Bella (placing a hand on her cheek with a mischievous smile):
"Sometimes, the stairs at Versailles carry handsome men… and sometimes, they carry stories."
Light chuckles echoed.
Madeleine (sipping her tea):
"I don't think I've seen you this lively since your last runway in Milan…
Is there something new afoot?"
Bella (looking warmly at all of them):
"In my life? Nothing new. Just me, relearning how to sip tea slowly… and survive fast questions."
Laughter, followed by another round of synchronized sipping.
Yet Bella's eyes never stopped scanning.
Her face was kind—but she was watching.
Éléonore's glances. Madeleine's tone. Léonie's method of sliding from one topic to the next.
Bella (internally):
"Each one is a master of deflection. But I only need time…
Until the two men arrive—and the real performance begins."
•••
Time: Friday – 10:30 a.m.
Place: Jardin du Roi – edge of the garden, near the court ladies' table
The sun had risen a little higher, and the garden's colors glowed gently in harmony with the daffodils and lavender sprigs.
Baroque music drifted from afar, played by an unseen musician near the fountains.
The women's voices softened—blurred by tea and layers of politeness.
Bella sat at the center of the table, pretending to listen to a lady's tale about a concert she'd once attended in Rome… ten years ago.
But her ears were attuned—discreetly tense.
And suddenly…
Men's footsteps.
Two of them.
Elegant gray suits. Confident, deliberate stride.
Edmond came first—broad-shouldered, nose slightly raised, as if he owned the ground beneath him.
Two steps behind was Gérard—quieter, but with sharp eyes that searched like a man who suspects a trap.
Éléonore was the first to notice.
Éléonore (with a sharp smile):
"Ah, at last—men have graced our little tea party.
We didn't know tea could attract this… variety of guests."
Bella (without turning, whispering to herself):
"The foxes have entered. Let's see who bites first."
Madeleine (eyeing Edmond):
"Monsieur Edmond, what a delight to see you on this side of the palace.
Weren't you always more fond of the closed halls?"
Edmond (bowing slightly):
"What can I do when the jewel of the court herself requests our presence? The honor is mine, madam."
Gérard (softly, addressing Bella):
"Lady Leclair… good morning.
We were told some of the ladies wished to see us?"
Bella (with a gentle smile, gesturing to the seats across):
"Indeed. Someone told me that Parisian elegance had been missing a touch of masculine fragrance lately…
So I thought we might restore the balance—just a little."
Light laughter followed. Some genuine, some as artificial as the powder on Léonie's face.
Edmond sat down. Gérard followed.
And in the moment they were both settled—
Bella turned to her cup, and took a slow, measured sip.
Bella (internally):
"Now that you're here… let's see where your loyalties lie—with just a few words."
•••
Time: Friday – 10:40 a.m.
Place: Jardin du Roi – central table in the rear garden of Versailles
The breeze weaved through the folds of gowns and ivory-toned parasols, carrying with it the delicate scent of lavender and narcissus…
Edmond and Gérard were seated now, their initial tension having faded. They'd begun to join the ladies' conversation—light jokes, casual compliments, and tea sips that vanished like smoke.
Bella watched the scene with a half-smile.
She didn't listen to the words—but to the intentions left unsaid.
Their glances. The way they sat. The timing of their laughter.
The hand that held the teacup… and the eyes that scanned the surroundings more than the speaker.
Bella (internally):
"You're laughing… thinking the game is over. But really, it's only just begun."
Then, with deliberate grace, she leaned slightly toward Léonie—the noblewoman who could turn any rumor into an epic.
Bella (gently, as if making polite conversation):
"Lady Léonie… I think we should exchange numbers, don't you?
Every time I try to find you for the latest palace whispers, I discover you've already outrun everyone."
Léonie (chuckling softly):
"Oh, darling Bella, you know I don't seek fame…
But the news just… finds me!"
Bella (calmly):
"Then let's share them—and invite the other ladies, too.
A little group chat to coordinate our tea invitations would be lovely."
The women responded quickly.
Phones emerged. Names were saved. Laughter rose.
Then—
One of the ladies (gesturing toward the two men):
"Oh! Why not add the gentlemen too? A little masculine perspective could be fun!"
Edmond (with mild hesitation and a polite chuckle):
"Ah, I'm not too good at women's chat, but… if you insist."
Gérard (glancing at Bella, then down to his phone):
"Sure… as long as the group isn't just about dresses."
Bella (smiling as if uninvolved):
"I promise a dedicated segment for cigars and politics."
Laughter. Numbers exchanged.
And Bella got exactly what she wanted—without ever asking directly.
Then—
She turned to Léonie again, her tone quieter, like sharing a small secret:
Bella:
"By the way… have you heard anything about a possible incident at one of the ports?
I don't know if it's just gossip… but there are whispers about an upcoming explosion."
Léonie (eyes widening, voice lowered):
"Oh! Saint-Nazaire Port?
I heard they found a suspicious shipment—barrels, black ones.
Someone said it's gas… or maybe something worse!
And what about that Dutch ship that docked there Tuesday night?
They say the captain hasn't been seen since!"
Bella (raising a brow, whispering internally):
"Now let's see… who gets nervous first."
In a heartbeat—
Edmond stopped mid-sip.
Gérard looked at him, and in a single flicker of eye contact, panic passed between them.
They hadn't expected this to be said—out loud.
Edmond (regaining composure, softly):
"Lady Léonie… where did you hear that?"
Léonie (waving a hand theatrically):
"Oh dear, my ears catch everything!
Some talk, some listen—I do both!"
Gérard (glancing around, then rising):
"I believe… we're late for a quick meeting.
Apologies, ladies—it was a pleasure."
Edmond (nodding gracefully):
"Let's continue this delightful conversation another time… It's been an intriguing morning."
And they left—
Their steps much quicker than when they arrived.
As soon as they vanished down the green corridor,
Bella closed the lid of her teacup and gazed at the fading steam.
Bella (internally, with the faintest smile):
"Now… they're finally starting to feel the pressure."
•••
Time: Friday – 10:55 a.m.
Place: Second floor – western wing of the Palace of Versailles, nobles' hallway
The silence here wasn't a blessing… but a mask.
The faint sound of elegant heels kissed the polished marble floor—
Émilie walked like a trained butterfly, weightless and swift.
She opened Gérard's room door gently, slipping inside like a bad idea creeping into a good man's mind.
The room was large, decorated in loud aristocratic taste.
A massive four-poster bed with gilded columns.
A wardrobe partially ajar. A leather chair before a small bookshelf.
The air was thick with heavy cologne, and a trace of tobacco clung to the curtains.
She pulled out her phone and began taking pictures:
📸
Left corner—shelves and vanity table.
📸
Right angle—window placement and dimensions.
📸
Distance from the bed to the door.
📸
Curtain style, chair count, floor lamp beside the wardrobe.
Finally, she looked up at the painting above the bed…
A landscape that looked nothing like France.
Émilie (internally, with dry humor):
"A fine room for a bad man. Perfect."
She closed her phone, restored everything—
Even the pillow's tilt.
She slipped out silently, ensuring the hall was empty.
To the right… nothing.
To the left… not a sound.
She walked steadily. But as she turned at the corridor intersection—
A shadow.
A man.
Not far… standing at the far end of the other hallway,
half his body hidden in shadow.
Watching.
Waiting.
But in the blink of an eye—
He was gone.
Émilie (pausing for just a second, lowering her eyes before walking again):
"So… we're not alone."
She didn't run. Didn't turn back.
As if she'd seen nothing.
But now, she knew.
Someone was watching.
And the game had just taken a sharper, far more dangerous turn.
•••
Time: Friday – exactly 11:15 a.m.
Place: Bella's Bedroom – curtains partially drawn, soft natural light bathing the room, the scent of fresh coffee filling the air.
Bella sat behind her desk, an open notebook before her and a pencil spinning between her fingers.
Renier stood beside the table, putting his phone on silent, his eyes fixed on Bella.
Émilie sat on the edge of the sofa, phone in hand, album open—but her mind was far from what everyone else could see.
Bella (calmly, analytical):
"Everything is moving faster than expected… that's clear.
Émilie, did you start photographing?"
Émilie (raising her phone, showing the first image):
"Every angle of Gérard's room… floor, ceiling, furniture layout—even the mark his shoe left on the rug."
Renier (studying the photo):
"The bed's close to the window… if he wanted to escape, that's the fastest way out."
Bella (nodding):
"A spacious room… more than a man of his rank would need.
But no documents, no direct evidence—right?"
Émilie (voice slightly tense):
"Yes… except for one thing."
Both Bella and Renier exchanged glances, then focused all attention on Émilie, who spoke with uncertainty:
Émilie:
"When I left… I felt like I was being watched.
And when I turned the corner, there was… a man's shadow.
He didn't move. Didn't make a sound…
Then he was gone."
Renier (frowning slightly):
"Someone watching the room… either one of theirs—or a third player."
Bella (smiling, without warmth):
"Oh… so there are other players on the board. Excellent."
(She flipped her notebook to a fresh page, sketching a quick map: nobles' wing – Gérard's room – line of sight – Émilie's location.)
Bella (thinking aloud):
"If it were just a guard… he wouldn't disappear.
If it was a spy from another side… then maybe he's not with them at all."
Renier (looking at her drawing):
"Or… he's been tasked to watch both sides. For reasons we don't know yet."
Émilie (staring into space):
"The question is… was he watching us?
Or them?"
Bella (studying her):
"It makes no difference.
Either way, it means our time to act is now counted by the minute."
(She paused, lifted her coffee cup, took a delicate sip, and set it down.)
Bella (with confidence):
"What happened in the garden today pulled us partly out of the shadows.
The men are on edge now.
Their faces looked like fear disguised as casual concern."
Renier:
"Like they heard a forbidden word… one that's not in polite society's dictionary."
Bella (smiling slightly, jotting down a note):
"Which means we struck a nerve…
The port. That's our first key."
(She set the pencil aside and looked at them.)
Bella:
"Tonight… we will continue surveillance. From a distance.
No more confrontations.
I want to see who contacts whom,
who leaves late,
who breaks routine first."
Émilie:
"And if they move?"
Bella (quietly, but with sharp precision):
"Then we'll already be two steps ahead. Not one."
•••
Time: Friday night – 9:00 p.m.
Place: Side corridors leading to guest rooms – Palace of Versailles
Lighting: Dim, old wall lamps cast a soft golden glow—not enough to reveal corners… or who might be standing in them.
Émilie's steps were quiet, unhurried—but her head tilted slightly… as if listening to what could not be heard.
The corridor was nearly empty, with distant sounds of laughter drifting from one of the balconies… but it offered no comfort.
She was returning from the ladies' wing, after enduring a long, meaningless conversation with her mother and noblewomen of the court.
Adjusting the collar of her tailored suit calmly, her fingertips felt cold.
Émilie (internally, whispering):
"No one's there… don't be silly."
But the whisper didn't calm her heart.
There was a presence.
No sound. No scent.
But it breathed with her.
It was behind her.
From the bend in the corridor behind Émilie, something watched.
Not just saw—hungered.
Like it wanted to drink her blood more than simply observe.
---
In the reflection of one of the gilded wall paintings' glass, she saw… a movement?
A trick of light?
A figure?
Her eyes widened—but her face stayed still.
She pretended. Ignored.
Then I changed direction.
Not to her room.
To Bella's.
She walked straight. Then faster.
Faster—
And with every step, the sense of danger in her ears intensified.
The steps behind her… weren't steps.
They were a soft drag. Like someone walking on their toes.
Or… not touching the floor at all.
The corridor shadows were shifting.
Some corners weren't as empty as they should've been.
The air… grew heavier.
Émilie (internally, trembling):
"If I turn around now…
I may not see you.
But you'll see me."
She neared the last bend.
There it was—Bella's door.
Finally,
But the presence—
It was right behind her now.
Something inside her screamed:
"RUN."
So she ran.
Ran with a speed unfitting for a couture suit.
Her heels hit the marble hard, sharp, panicked.
She reached the door.
Her hand trembled at the handle… she opened it.
Shoved it shut behind her.
Back pressed against it—
Breathing like she'd escaped death itself.
Inside the room…
Silence.
Renier was sitting on the floor, laptop open, staring at her like she was a ghost from a horror film.
Bella stood near the wall, Émilie's phone in hand—scrolling through room photos—then stopped.
Bella (coolly, with caution):
"…Is something chasing you?"
Émilie (panting, hand over her chest):
"I don't know… but something…
It wasn't imaginary. It wasn't."
Renier (rising, eyes narrowing):
"Did you see it?"
Émilie (shaking her head):
"No… I didn't look.
But I felt it.
Like it was standing there…
Just waiting for me to be weak enough to turn around."
Bella (walking over slowly, placing a hand on Émilie's shoulder):
"Anyone who plays the game of shadows…
Eventually plays with the real ghost."
(She walked to the door, opened it gently, looked into the corridor… empty.)
Bella (softly):
"The real monsters… leave no trace.
But they're always felt."
Émilie sat on the sofa, hands clasped between her knees, eyes scanning the room like the shadows had followed her inside.
Her breathing was still audible, but her pulse was slowly calming.
Bella quietly shut the door after confirming the hallway was clear.
She cast a quick glance at Renier, who had already set aside his tablet and moved closer in silence.
Bella (gently but firmly):
"Did you sense something specific?
Or was it just… a presence?"
Émilie (slowly, staring into space):
"No… no, it wasn't just a feeling. It was a presence. Heavy… like someone was standing behind me, holding their breath with mine. I didn't hear footsteps—it was more like… when your body warns you something's behind you."
Renier (kneeling in front of her, eyes sharp):
"Did you stop at any corner? Pass by a balcony? A mirror? Any blind spots in the hallway?"
Émilie:
"I walked past a tall mirror… one with a gold frame. I felt like it wasn't just me in the reflection."
Bella (turning her back, heading toward a painting of Mount Fuji):
"It was a test. Tonight wasn't about hurting you… it was about watching you."
Renier (returns to his laptop, typing quickly):
"If someone's watching her… then it's either one of the men—or a third party.
A player we haven't seen yet."
Bella (tone quiet, but laced with danger):
"We're searching for those who want to hide…
But someone else is searching for those who want to reveal."
Émilie (smiling nervously despite herself):
"Nice. Like a math equation—except instead of numbers, it's people who could literally kill you."
Renier (with a small smile, not looking up):
"Émilie, you've officially become a chess piece under surveillance."
Bella (turning to them, leaning back against the desk):
"And that's why… we're changing the plan.
We won't just be the hunters anymore.
We'll be the bait, too."
Émilie (raising an eyebrow):
"Oh… great. Always dreamed of being bait for a mystery man in a 400-year-old palace."
Bella (calmly):
"But don't worry—this bait knows how to bite."
(A moment of silence.)
Bella moves closer to Émilie and sits beside her. She gently places her hand over Émilie's.
Bella (softly):
"Were you afraid?"
Émilie (meeting her eyes):
"Yes...
(then looks away, her expression darkening)
But only because I was alone."
Bella (smiling gently, with seriousness):
"Now… you won't be alone."
Renier (standing, pulling a page from the small printer):
"The data's in. I hacked both of their phones—but the messages are encrypted.
Mostly codes and time formats."
Bella:
"We'll crack them. But first…
We need to prepare each one of them for a special party.
Starting tomorrow."
Émilie (sighing):
"Alright then… let's light hell on a simmer."
---
Time: Friday, 9:34 PM
Location: Separate rooms – West Wing, Palace of Versailles
Lighting: Dim. The palace's noise has begun to die down… but the threat has started to whisper.
---
🔹 Mr. Gérard's Room
The room is bathed in the warmth of a bedside lamp.
Curtains are half-drawn, and the balcony window overlooks a dark, quiet courtyard.
Gérard stands in front of the mirror, slowly adjusting the buttons of his fine white shirt—just sleepwear, yet he looks focused and relaxed.
On the table behind him:
A pistol, half-covered by a white handkerchief.
Next to it, a slim leather folder—filled with printed documents and handwritten notes.
In his other hand: a glass of cognac, which he sips without taking his eyes off his reflection.
Gérard (muttering to himself with smug satisfaction):
"It all ends tomorrow."
He glances at the door—sensing something. But no sound. Just a suspicious stillness.
---
🔹 Mr. Edmond's Room
The room is darker.
Edmond sits on the edge of his bed.
His jacket and tie are off, sleeves rolled up. His face is marked with exhaustion and tension.
Before him:
A miniature map of the palace spread on the table, red circles drawn over specific locations: the eastern garden, the back cellar entrance, the main storage room.
Beside the map: a small transmitter—currently off—and a notebook with small, tight handwriting:
> "Saturday – 22:00 – Zero Point"
Edmond (whispering):
"The plan won't wait any longer…
If anyone catches wind of it,
Everyone will need to be silenced."
He glances toward the door. Then at his watch.
---
🔹 9:35 PM – At the exact same moment
📱 Suddenly…
In both rooms, the mobile phones buzz faintly.
A message appears—from an unknown number.
No sender name. No profile image.
No location.
Just the message:
> ❝You fool. No one runs from the shadows and thinks the light won't chase them.
Saturday—you won't escape.
I see you… and I know who you are.
One more crime… and I'll make sure the entire palace sees you in full light.❞
—
Gérard suddenly stood up, gripping his phone tightly, stepping back as if someone had slapped him.
Meanwhile, Edmond bit down on his lip, quickly flipped the message to delete it… but his finger hesitated.
Neither of them knew the other received the exact same message.
And at that moment, both of them began to sweat.
But Bella… had started this game long ago.
---
Time: Friday – 9:37 PM
Location: Bella's Bedroom
Curtains drawn, lighting dim, the air still—yet the minds in the room were on fire.
The room resembled a covert interrogation chamber more than the suite of a duchess's heiress.
Bella sat quietly on the edge of a velvet couch, her jacket off, now only in a shirt like the others. Her hair was pulled back tightly.
In her fingers, she held a small black phone—not her official one. The operations phone.
Her eyes were fixed on the screen. She barely blinked—waiting for the silence to crack.
Next to her, Émilie sat cross-legged on the couch, holding another phone—same size, same color.
A wicked little smile tugged at her lips.
On the floor in front of them, Renier sat cross-legged with his laptop. Two windows glowed on the screen:
One: Surveillance footage hacked from Gérard's phone camera
Two: A live image from Edmond's phone, showing him staring at his screen, suspicious
Renier (quietly, like a live commentator):
"They're both frozen. Eyes don't lie. That message hit… just as we planned."
Bella (without looking up):
"Time to light the first real spark."
With a simple flick of her fingers… she pressed send.
At the exact same moment, Émilie did the same.
📤
File Sent: Voice Record – Duration: 0:16 seconds
> Gérard's voice (sarcastic):
"...This royal charade will fall, whether we want it or not. The whole act is collapsing. If we don't strike first, we'll be buried with them."
Edmond's voice (with a bitter laugh):
"Exactly. Let them ramble on about honor and family… All we need is one moment."
---
The audio files were sent. The phones vibrated.
And on the laptop screen, the trio watched the instant reactions.
Gérard dropped his glass.
Edmond looked around wildly, then slammed his phone shut and leapt from his seat as if someone stood behind him.
Émilie (whispering, with a wide grin):
"I can hear their minds cracking."
Renier (typing quickly):
"The psychological storm has begun. Now let them wonder… who recorded this? Who sent it?"
Bella (watching them with a small, unreadable smile):
"And the best part… no one else in this palace has that voice.
Except them."
A pause, then she added, with chilling calm:
"Let them drown in their thoughts.
We'll just watch."
---
Time: Friday – 10:35 PM
Location: Bella's Bedroom
The lights still dim. Windows sealed. But the air… colder now, as if fear was leaking through the wires.
Bella leaned forward, one elbow on her knee, phone in hand like a final chess piece before checkmate.
On the screen in front of her:
Gérard: still on the edge of his bed, staring at his phone like the world was about to flip
Edmond: pacing in the center of his room, his eyes bouncing between the door and the screen
Émilie sat with her legs crossed on the couch, examining select photos from her earlier scouting.
Renier stayed silent, his eyes scanning every face. He knew… this wasn't time for analysis.
This was time for the second strike.
Bella (quietly, with commanding poise):
"The audio planted doubt.
But the image… plants fear."
Émilie (with a sly wink):
"Let's show them… that even in their own rooms, they're not hidden."
Bella (zooming in on one photo):
"This one."
It showed Edmond's room—crystal clear.
A small red dot marked the exact spot where he stood now.
Émilie (snickering, then selecting another):
"And this… Gérard's bed, violet curtain, his current position marked."
Bella looked to Renier.
Bella:
"On my count… we send them simultaneously."
Renier (like a countdown to detonation):
"Three… two… one…"
📤
The two images were sent at the exact same second.
---
⏳ Two seconds after sending:
Edmond's room
The message blinks. He opens it.
His eyes widen instantly.
He scans the room, like the walls themselves were watching him.
Gérard's room
The message arrives.
He sees the image… of himself, standing exactly as he is.
He drops the phone.
Stands up.
Tears back the curtains. Checks behind doors.
Even looks at the ceiling.
Émilie (with a triumphant grin):
"They're moving like the room's caving in."
Bella (softly, reading their emotions like a book):
"When someone realizes they're being watched…
They begin to doubt everything.
Even their own body.
Even their eyes."
Renier (taking notes):
"Edmond locked his phone.
Gérard's left his room… whispering into his other phone."
---
Bella stood, adjusted the collar of her shirt, then spoke calmly:
Bella:
"Now they know the enemy sees more than they ever imagined."
Émilie:
"Do we continue?"
Bella (with a deep, haunting look):
"No…
We wait.
The next move…
will be theirs."
---
Time: From 11:35 PM to 12:35 AM
Location: Gérard's & Edmond's Rooms
🕥 11:35 PM – First Message
Message received:
> 🍵 Good evening. Do you prefer chamomile or mint tea?
By the way… I tried sitting in that corner you like. The lighting is so relaxing.
Gérard's Reaction:
He froze.
Looked at the corner mentioned—the exact spot where he'd been reading earlier.
Edmond:
Opened the message slowly.
"Chamomile? What kind of joke is this?"
Still, he immediately shut the curtains.
---
🕦 12:35 AM – Second Message
Message:
> 🕯️
Don't worry… we love dim lighting too.
By the way, doesn't the couch in your room need reupholstering?
Gérard (in a shaken voice):
"Who is this lunatic? How do they know about the couch?!"
Edmond (speaking into his phone):
"No... no one's knocking.
Just more stupid messages."
---
🕧 1:35 AM – Third Message
Message:
> 😴
We hope you sleep well tonight…
But try not to move around too much—our camera hates blurry shots.
Sleep tight, Edmond… and Gérard.
Reaction:
Silence.
Gérard picked up his phone…
turned off the internet, then shut it down completely.
Edmond glanced at the webcam on his laptop…
Tore off a piece of black tape and covered it.
Then, he scribbled something into a notebook—
…and burned the page.
---
🧠 Inside Bella's Room
Bella held her new phone, watching the message logs as they mirrored on Renier's laptop screen.
Émilie lounged on the couch, lazily doodling a smiley face on a piece of paper.
Émilie (playfully):
"Do you think they're starting to wonder who we are?"
Bella (with a cold stare):
"They're not thinking.
They're shaking."
She added softly, her voice like ice:
"Genius isn't knowing when to strike your enemy…
It's making them wonder if they've already been hit."
Renier (monitoring the data logs):
"Gérard shut off his phone—
but just before that, he made a call to an unknown number.
As for Edmond… he wrote something down.
Then torched it."
Bella (smiling faintly):
"Perfect.
The fire's started.
Let them bake their fear slowly…"
To be continued…