pte

ional Fr

ng structure of half-truths and concealed affiliations. Isobel had always been sharp; she had ideals, yes, but she wasn't naive. Now, with a

ies, trips to war zones, galas with foreign investors-each one a monument

cutor?" he asked

offshore money laundering networks

grim nod. "Then

o NovaShield," Celia continued, "we'r

of subsidiaries, encrypted correspondences, and fake corporations. Except now, Isobel had found th

legally or not." Celia hesitated. "That kind of move c

sprawl beneath him like an indifferent machine.

t detailing illegal weapons transfers tied to a rival defense firm. The document was poli

procurement ledgers and state department filings. He found a receipt

journalism was now an unofficial investigation fueled

ld no longer tell where the lines b

good intentions. As the public relations officer for the Verdona Elite, she knew how to sculpt public perception like clay: a smile here, a subtle leak there, and the press would spin stories the way she ne

nd kaleidoscopic wardrobe, Celia carr

eding intel

her that Isabelle's connections to the underground resistance movement led by Verdona could ultimately result in their de

But over time, the lines blurred. Marcus didn't just want safety; he wanted control. And despite her upbeat demeanor, Celia was dangerously ignorant.

hat journalist a

elia always answered with a smile plastered on her face and

she stood beside Isabelle like a gemstone, snapping selfies and wh

h, she was

taken her in and provided her with a home and a purpose. The Verdona Elite wasn't ju

her status, career, and the one and only friend who has ever truly loved her. She therefore continued. Wore red lipstick and h

a little m

gala. Standing next to Isabelle in an emerald dress with sequins and heels high enough to count as architecture, Celia handled reporters and compliments like a pro. Isabelle delivered a passiona

in the bathroom as she did touch-ups and checked Instagram. Marcus: Was the

is speech, not. It had been Isabelle's life's work. It was as if I had crossed a line. Again, Marcus: Do you want to keep your job? Panic burned in her thr

she hi

oom, Isabelle was waiting near the

ight." Celia smiled, toasting quietly. She wondered wh

mentioned as having been arrested. The cause? Treason. The exact phrasing of his alleged

ncidence. Then Isabelle stormed into

aft," she snapped. "Som

stomach

, and you." Isabelle stared hard. "I've met Julian.

? Issa, get real. Isabelle softened a little. "I don't w

Celia couldn't meet her best f

w. The lie was becoming impossible to hold. The net was tightening. One wrong w

cus wasn

ssage was al

at Isabelle's hiding

deep in her bones. She coul

ouldn't st

t y