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Even though I don't want to, I slowly extricate myself from him. We can't do this night together if we're going to get something out of it.

Vanessa Chase is standing at the far end of the gallery, a vision in ice-blue silk, her blonde hair sleek and precise, a glass of champagne poised effortlessly between two fingers. She's laughing at something, tilting her head just so, a portrait of grace and power. She's perfectly at ease, perfectly untouchable.

I draw in a breath, letting my shoulders curve inward, my fingers tightening anxiously around the clutch in my hands. Let the nerves show, let the doubt flicker. I need to be someone she underestimates. Someone breaking, crumbling.

Liam is only a few steps behind me, but I don't turn to look at him. I can't. If I do, I might lose my nerve. I might remember that we are standing on the edge of something dangerous, something far bigger than just the games Vanessa likes to play.

The moment I step into her periphery, she notices. Of course, she does.

She doesn't react immediately. Just the smallest flick of her gaze, the tiniest curve of her lips—like she's already won whatever battle I'm about to start. Like she expected this.

I stop just short of her, exhaling unevenly. "You did this." My voice is pitched low, hoarse with feigned distress.

Vanessa lifts a delicate brow. "Did what, darling?"

I swallow hard, letting my grip on my clutch falter, like I'm barely holding it together. "The texts. The threats. The photos of my brothers." My voice wobbles just enough. "You're the one behind them."

A few people nearby glance over at the accusation, their polite conversations faltering. Good. Let them hear. Let them witness.

Vanessa sighs, the picture of exasperated patience. "Ava, be serious. If I wanted to ruin you, I wouldn't be this subtle."

I flinch, a calculated move. "Stop lying," I whisper.

She takes a slow sip of her champagne before setting the flute aside, her movements graceful, unhurried. "You poor thing. Is this what you've been telling yourself to make sense of everything?" Her lips curve, soft, pitying. "That I'm the villain in your story? That Liam is your knight in shining armor?"

I press my lips together, hands trembling at my sides.

Vanessa steps closer, her perfume wrapping around me like a warning. "I told you before, didn't I? You don't know him like you think you do."

It takes everything in me not to break character, not to snap back that I know exactly who Liam is. That I know the way he touches me, the way he watches me when he thinks I won't notice, the way he's fought every instinct in his body to keep me safe.

Instead, I let my breath shudder, my gaze darting away like I can't bear to meet hers. "Stay away from me," I murmur, voice small, breakable.

Vanessa smiles, slow and satisfied. "Oh, sweetheart," she purrs. "I don't think you understand how this works."

With that, she twirls around and leaves, pretending for all the world as if most of her time isn't being spent in hounding me alive.

I step out of the gallery. Moments later, Liam arrives beside me.

He mutters a curse under his breath, running a hand through his hair. "Cliff was in there."

My stomach tightens. "Did you talk to him?"

"Yeah. And he played dumb." Liam's jaw tics. "Said he's just doing side jobs for Vanessa, that he doesn't know anything about the texts."

I exhale sharply. "Do you believe him?"

Liam looks at me, then back toward the gallery doors. "Not a damn word."

I wrap my arms around myself, the night air suddenly colder than before. "So, what now?"

He doesn't answer, just stares across the lot, a muscle jumping in his jaw.

Then, slowly, I follow his gaze.

Near the back entrance of the gallery, half-shrouded in the shadows, Cliff Reyes is standing beside Vanessa, speaking in low tones. And just as I narrow my eyes, trying to make sense of the exchange…

He presses something into her palm.