As soon as Lucas left her apartment, Dalia restarted her search on William. The last dominant traces of him were from the flight booked to Italy. Nothing more.
She didn't have time to zoom in on every road, every camera, but she needed answers.
The invitation had two names in total. And Dalia had yet to explicitly show it to Lucas. She couldn't risk it—no matter what. Two separate events. Two separate pasts were being forcefully merged. Pasts that should have been forgotten.
Dalia rechecked the hotel's footage. Again. For André. For things she might've left. Access to this hotel was by no means a simple shield; it had layers. But when one is determined, nothing can stop them.
Hours of footage later, her eyes began to shut. She was barely holding on. It had been a whole day since she'd been shut in this room, looking at photos, recordings, digital footprints.
Nothing.
Finally, she landed on the day Enzo had caused a ruckus at the entrance. In the very corner of the frame, she caught sight of a familiar figure.
A man dressed in pristine clothes—just like Enzo's.
William.
William had been at Hotel Belmond. He had passed by. She hadn't noticed. He had been there, and she had been too engulfed in her search to see it.
Damn it.
She checked the security footage again. William was in the lobby, looking around, seemingly searching for something. At one point, he reached into his pocket and pulled out an envelope.
A crimson envelope.
Torn.
The same crimson envelope with the seal that she had received in digital form.
Her breath hitched. Her fingers tensed.
He had gotten the invitation prior to her. And he had been searching for someone.
She scanned through all the cameras, fast-forwarding clips, rewinding, analyzing every frame. And then, finally, she found something—
The garage footage.
Lucas.
Meeting with William.
They knew each other.
They were acquaintances.
They had met.
This was not all random.
She played the footage again. Again. Again. Rewinding, scrutinizing every detail.
Two things became clear:
First, they did not actually know each other well—passing acquaintances at most. But knowing Santos Davenport? There were no coincidences.
She fast-forwarded the clip.
A blind spot.
And then, nothing.
Just like André. A blind spot. And then nothing.
She could have been overthinking. Someone might have been playing with her. But something deep inside her told her otherwise. That this was real. That she had to go. That she had to search.
And following the previous pattern, it was evident now—she was gonna be called in.
Soon.
She could run away and abandon the deal with Lucas.
Or she could deal with Davenport head-on.
One thing about Davenport—he left no loose strings. And if it was really him, he was going to follow through.
A couple days left until the time on the invitation.
Until the games begin.
She had to notify someone.
The dangers lurking. The connections forming. But she couldn't tell Lucas outright. Not yet. Not without knowing why Davenport would want the Crown Prince.
Why he wanted André.
He was none of his business.
A knock on Dalia's door snapped her out of her thoughts.
Her breath caught.
Was he here for her? Was it her turn?
Another knock.
And then a third.
Dalia took a slow, deep breath, reached for the doorknob, and opened the door.
What greeted her wasn't two men dragging her into the unknown.
It was a woman. A beautiful, young woman in a long coat and dress, her posture poised, her expression unreadable.
"Dalia."
Not a question. A statement. She knew who she was.
Dalia squared her shoulders, matching the unwavering tone of the opponent standing in front of her.
"Red."
Red raised an eyebrow, gaze flickering toward the laptop still resting on the table. Then, without waiting for permission, she stepped inside.
Dalia let her. She had a feeling there was no stopping her regardless.
"I think you already know why I'm here."
Dalia leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed. "Enlighten me."
Red gave a knowing smile, but it wasn't cocky—just measured. "We both know you're looking for something. And we both know you don't have all the answers."
Dalia's jaw tightened. "And you do?"
Red didn't know.
Good.
Red shook her head. "Not all of them. But I know this—if you're in, I'm in. If you back out, I do it alone."
Oh.
Red doesn't know she's involved. How could she.
Paranoia doesn't follow the innocent.
Dalia studied her carefully. "And why should I trust you?"
"You shouldn't."
Well red, You shouldn't trust me. You and I have no animosity. I'm sorry.
Silence stretched between them. A battle of wills, unspoken.
Finally, Red sighed, rolling her shoulders back. "Look, I don't know what you think of me, but I'm not the enemy. I just want to know what's really going on. And so do you."
I know.
Right now, Red was the only one standing here, offering an alliance. But she shouldn't betray an innocent person. She did her no harm.
She didn't lie. Not exactly.
Just didn't offer the whole truth.
Silence could be loyal too—
in the right light.
After a long moment, she exhaled sharply. "Fine."
It wasn't a betrayal.
It was protection, just not for her.
Red smirked. "Good. Now, tell me what you know."
Dalia gave her a long look before answering.
"William and André. Only them. They are the only ones invited to an exclusive after-party after the masquerade tomorrow. It's odd."
"William?"
"Dunno."
"Well"