The knock echoed again—three crisp raps, deliberate and steady—resonating through the polished marble and muted silence.

Caspian’s jaw clenched, his gaze slicing through the dim glow of the room. The air tightened, as if the walls themselves were holding their breath. Lila’s pulse hammered, a wild drumbeat beneath her ribs, matching the sudden spike of adrenaline that twisted her stomach.

He rose from the leather chair with that same measured control, every movement carved from ice and precision. Without a word, Caspian slid the heavy door open.

Lila strained to see beyond the frame. A slender, shadowed figure stood waiting—backlit, features obscured. The faint scent of rain clung to the air, mingling with something sharper, metallic. The visitor’s voice was low when it came, gravelled with urgency.

“Miss Morgan,” it said. “It’s about Eli.”

The name landed like a stone in water, sinking fast and rippling through Lila’s mind.

Eli.

Her breathing caught. Years of faded memories—fractured laughter, whispered fights, that last hurtful silence—flooded the room, making the shadows flicker.

Caspian’s eyes narrowed. “You have one minute.”

The visitor stepped forward, the soft scuff of expensive shoes echoing faintly.

“It’s worse than you think,” the man began, voice tight. “Eli’s been gone longer than he told you. He’s not where he said he’d be.”

Lila’s heart seized, cold and sharp. “Where is he?”

The visitor hesitated, lips pressed thin. “I don’t know exactly. But there’s talk—he’s involved with people who... might want to take down your family.”

A bead of sweat traced down Lila’s temple despite the chill. The room seemed to contract, closing in with unspoken threats.

“Why come to me?” Caspian’s voice was a low growl.

The visitor flicked a quick glance. “Because someone told me if I wanted to survive this, I should tell the truth.”

Lila’s fingers curled into fists at her sides. “Survive what?”

Before the man could answer, the sharp ping of a notification sliced the heavy silence.

Lila’s phone lit up in her palm—a message from an unknown number.

Three words, icy and cryptic:

“Brother’s not yours.”

Her breath hitched.

Caspian’s expression hardened like tempered steel. The visitor took a step back, the door swinging closed behind him with a meticulous click.

The room plunged back into shadows as Lila stared at the screen, the revelation sinking deep—a betrayal hiding closer than she ever feared.

And the game had just become deadly.