His Bride, Her Revenge

The news of Evelyn Stone’s death spread through Manhattan like wildfire. Screens flashed her name in bold letters, her glamorous face frozen in deathly stillness, plastered across every outlet. Cambria watched from the penthouse window, her reflection pale in the glass, the city’s chaos muted beneath the sound of her own racing thoughts.

The message still burned on her phone screen: You don’t know who to trust. Look closer or lose everything.

That single sentence unraveled everything.

"She’s dead," Maddox said behind her. His voice was low, rough. "But I can’t decide if that brings us closer to peace... or if we’ve just woken something worse."

Cambria turned the flash drive still in her hand. "Evelyn knew too much. Too many secrets died with her."

Knox stood by the bar, a drink untouched in his hand. His jaw tightened as he watched the live coverage. "Or maybe she took the easy way out before we could expose her."

"No," Cambria said, shaking her head. "It’s too clean. It’s too convenient. The timing, the message someone wants to keep us guessing."

Maddox walked toward her, the lines of exhaustion etched into his face. "We need to control the narrative before it controls us. Evelyn’s death can either bury us, or it can set us free."

Cambria’s fingers curled tightly around the edge of the marble counter. "We do it on my terms. We bring the truth out, piece by piece, but we don’t stop asking questions. Not until I know who sent that message."

Knox set his glass down with a loud clunk. "You think there’s someone else? Someone watching us?"

"I know it," she said. "We’re being played, all over again. And I’m done being someone’s pawn."