Rowen Cade stood in the dimly lit hallway of an aging apartment complex downtown, leaning casually against the peeling paint of a door labeled "12B." His scanned the corridor with the precision of a hawk. On the outside, he looked like any man in a wrinkled leather jacket and boots worn thin—but Rowen Cade was anything but ordinary.
Once a decorated officer in military intelligence, Rowen had seen the inside of corruption and betrayal more than any man should. Disillusioned by the politics of power, he left the army and traded his stars for shadows. Now he lived by one rule—find the truth, no matter how deeply it's buried.
He knocked once. Twice. Silence.
Then the door creaked open. A woman in her sixties peered through the crack.
"Cade?"
"Mrs. Ling," he greeted politely. "You called. You said you saw the woman in the photo?"
She nodded nervously and opened the door wider, gesturing him in. "The one with the mean eyes and expensive heels. She was here last week."
Rowen stepped inside. The room was cluttered but clean. A pot of jasmine tea sat untouched on the stove.
"She came to see Garth," Mrs. Ling said. "Same Garth, the one that runs errands for the morreti, Remember him?"
Rowen's brow lifted. He took out a small notepad. "And did she say anything?"
"She handed him an envelope. Thick one."
Rowen nodded.
Keeping every detail.
---
Back at the estate, Amara stood near the greenhouse, her phone pressed to her ear as she listened to Rowen's calm but urgent report.
"She paid a low-level fixer to do something. I haven't figured out what yet, but I'm closing in. You were right, Amara. Your sister's in deeper than you think."
Amara's stomach twisted. "Thank you, Rowen. Be careful."
"Always," he replied before hanging up.
Zane stepped out onto the patio, catching the tail end of her conversation. His gaze narrowed.
"Rowen?"
She nodded.
"What did he find?"
Amara hesitated. "That Selene's making more moves.
Zane walked to her, his voice low. "Then let's stop pretending this is still a game."
---
That evening, Selene sat across from Darian in his wing of the estate, tension crackling between them. She hadn't let go of what she saw again days ago—Darian tangled with a stranger, naked and desperate.
"You're reckless," she hissed. "Do you know what's at stake?"
He didn't look up from his drink. "It was a distraction. She meant nothing."
Selene grabbed the tumbler from his hand and flung it against the wall. You said that the first time, "We're this close to destroying them. And you're busy losing control between some girl's thighs?"
Darian finally looked at her. Cold. Dangerous. "You forget your place, Selene."
"I made this plan," she snapped. "You followed me. Don't get it twisted."
He stood slowly, stepping close enough that she could smell the whiskey on his breath. "Without me, you'd still be playing house in your sister's shadow."
Selene flinched but didn't back down.
"You want Amara taken out? We do it my way," he growled. "And next time, don't interrupt me when I'm working off tension."
Selene turned away, biting the inside of her cheek. She hates him now, but She needed him more.
---
Back at the estate, Zane was in his study, eyes locked on a folder Rowen had dropped off. Photos. Invoices. Witness statements. Everything pointing to Selene and Darian planning something big.
He rubbed his temples, recalling Amara's words. She'd told him everything now—about her death, her baby, her second chance.
Hello had made a promise to protect her and he's never backing out
---
In a downtown parking garage, Rowen crouched behind a pillar, camera trained on a shadowy exchange between Garth and a tall man in a trench coat. He clicked the shutter as a wad of cash changed hands.
Then his phone buzzed.
Unknown number.
He answered. "Cade."
A distorted voice spoke. "She's being watched. Be careful who you trust."
Rowen's jaw tightened. "Who is this?"
But the line was dead.
His instincts screamed. He'd been doing this too long to ignore gut feelings.
They were running out of time.
He needed more evidence .. he needs them fast.