The Woman in Velvet and the Twist in Oslo
The car below was not familiar.
Elias narrowed his eyes. No markings. Tinted glass. Too clean for a corporate ride, too refined for street work.
He called Lewis.
"Is that one of yours parked outside?"
Lewis's response was instant. "I'm still upstairs. No car sent."
A silence stretched between them.
Then Elias muttered, "We're not alone."
He stepped back from the window, clicked the encrypted lock on his laptop, and grabbed his coat. Jude had just returned from running damage control on the video scandal when Elias burst out of the penthouse suite.
"Someone's outside," Elias said in a low voice. "I need you to stall the media and make it public that I'm flying out tonight."
"But you're not," Jude replied, already understanding.
"No. I'm going underground. Call it a strategic disappearance."
Lewis met them near the private elevator. "Bodyguard team's been doubled. If this is a grab, we'll intercept."
Elias waved him off. "I'm not being grabbed. I'm being invited."
Jude raised an eyebrow. "By who?"
"That," Elias said grimly, "is what I'm about to find out."
Ten Minutes Later – Inside the Black Car, The woman seated across from him wore deep wine velvet and pearls classic elegance that had long vanished from the Draxon social scene. Her gloved hands folded delicately over a silver case.
"You took your time," she said.
"I wasn't aware I was summoned."
"You always were."
Elias didn't answer. He studied her. Late forties, maybe early fifties. Poised. Familiar eyes, but a face lost to time.
"Who are you?"
Her smile was soft. "You don't remember me. Not yet. But you should. I'm the reason you didn't drown."
Silence.
Elias leaned in. "What did you just say?"
"The shipwreck. Twenty-five years ago. You didn't die because someone pulled you out."
He stared at her, pulse rising. "You're lying."
Her voice lowered. "Magritte knows. Lewis suspects. But neither knows my name, or what I gave up to protect the Thorne line."
She extended the silver case. "Proof."
Inside: a photo. Waterlogged, nearly ruined. A young Elias Thorne. Barely alive. Held by two cloaked men. And a third person her, unmistakably younger but still the same eyes.
"I was your mother's half-sister," she said.
"What?" Elias's breath hitched.
"They erased me. Paid me off. Called me 'unfit' because I wasn't born into the main Thorne branch. But your mother knew I'd protect you. When the storm came, I was already on the ship in secret. The night it sank, I pulled you from the wreck. You were half-dead. But I kept you breathing."
Elias's heart raced. A flood of confusion and fear pressed down on his chest.
"And you let them think I died?" he asked.
"I let you forget. You were drugged same protocol they use on memory-damaged soldiers. Your father approved it. I had to disappear to keep the plan intact."
Elias shook his head. "Why come back now?"
"Because Magritte is in danger. And you're not ready for what's coming. Fane isn't the enemy. He's the bait. The real power? It's already inside Draxon. Infiltrated. Hidden. Waiting for you to fail."
Elias couldn't speak.
She leaned closer. "Your real enemies are wearing your logo."
Meanwhile Oslo Auction House. Magritte walked past bodies of wealth financiers, royal remnants, arms dealers in tuxedos. The room was dark. The bidding quiet. No auctioneer just screens. Code names. Scanned eyes.
A message pinged in her ear,
Incoming bid: "CIRCE VEX – Lot 17 – Draxon Proxy Access Key" She froze.
That was a backdoor key to the vault Elias had just locked down last week.
"How the hell " she whispered.
Then, behind her, a whisper.
"Miss Lyon."
She turned slowly.
It was Valerie Dexter. Not in a press-ready gown. Not on a red carpet. But wearing a deep green suit with a badge on her collar.
Magritte's face hardened. "You followed me."
Valerie gave a cold smile. "Not followed. Funded. You've been on our payroll longer than you think."
"What?"
"You want Elias safe? Get out of the way. You're protecting a memory. Not a man."
Magritte's hand twitched near her purse. But Valerie's bodyguard was already ahead of her.
"Don't be stupid," Valerie whispered. "You don't know how deep this hole goes."
Magritte hissed, "You don't know how much I've uncovered."
"I know exactly how much," Valerie said. "You sent half of it to Elias last night."
She paused. "And guess who read it first?"
Magritte's stomach dropped.
Back in the Car, Elias was shaking. "Why should I believe you?"
The woman leaned forward. "Because your enemies are already moving. And the only reason you're alive now… is because they *need* you alive until the next vote."
"What vote?"
"The resurrection clause in Draxon's bylaws. The one that activates if Elias Thorne is proven to be alive and deemed *incompetent*. They want to reinstate the Shadow Board. Fane is just the *mouthpiece*. Valerie, Landon, even Dexter they're waiting for the clause."
Elias whispered, "Then I need to disappear."
"No," she said, gripping his hand. "You need to become more visible than ever. But not as Elias. As something *greater*."
She slid a sealed folder into his lap.
"What's this?"
"Your rebirth."