Lucas pulled his car to a stop in front of his high-rise apartment, stepping out with effortless ease. The front manager greeted him with a nod.
Lucas returned the gesture, moving straight for the elevator.
Inside, he hovered over the button panel. A long pause on 8. Then, 2. 69. 68.
He glanced at the top-right corner, where the CCTV's red light flickered—then stilled.
Click.
A hidden sensor slid into view. Thumbprint. Access granted.
The elevator doors opened to a vast, opulent space. A staircase stood directly ahead, leading to the second floor, which stretched out in a balcony-style view of the lounge below. The entire wall opposite was a glowing shrine of wine, exquisite bottles cased in sleek glass. The air smelled of wealth.
Lucas walked inside, pressing his thumb once more against a pad. The confirmation beep lingered a second too long before silencing.
Upstairs, he turned left. His desk awaited—a small, yet heavy-duty setup, functional but far from extravagant. It wasn't built for aesthetics. It was built for security.
Logging in, he bypassed the layers of encryption without hesitation. And then—
Ring.
His phone lit up. Ms. Lombardi.
Lucas set the device onto its holder, answering coolly.
"Greetings, Ms. Lombardi. How may I help you?"
"Mr. Sinclaire," she started, her tone measured. "I found something that might be worth your attention."
"Such as?"
A pause. "An invitation to a masquerade."
Lucas barely blinked. "Oh, Ms. Lombardi. Don't be fooled. We're not here to party."
"It's related to the prince."
That cut through. Lucas's fingers stilled over the keyboard.
"From what I know, the guest list includes quite a few important names," Dalia continued.
Lucas exhaled. "That's expected. It's a high-profile event."
"But that's not what's suspicious."
"No?"
"There's an afterparty, Mr. Sinclaire. A very exclusive one."
Lucas's gaze sharpened. "And who's attending?"
"Prince Beaumont, notably."
A flicker of something crossed his expression. The prince? That was…unexpected.
"And?"
"William Davenport. And you, Mr. Lucas."
The words landed like a quiet punch. Lucas's fingers hovered over the desk, unmoving.
His jaw tensed for half a second before he recovered. "I'm invited?"
"Yes. In the select few."
Lucas leaned back in his chair, exhaling slowly through his nose. A calculated pause.
This wasn't random.
Someone had put his name on that list deliberately. The prince's too.
His mind ticked through possibilities, dissecting the angles, searching for the why. A mistake? No. This was intentional.