Chapter 35 An Unknown Number
Her thumb hovered over the call button.
Li Wei’s name was on the screen. His number was already dialed. All she had to do was press send.
She did not press send.
She stared at the phone for a long moment. Her heart was pounding. Her lip was still sore from where Beatrice had slapped her. Her cheek was still throbbing.
She wanted to tell someone. She wanted to scream. She wanted to point her finger at Eleanor and make everyone see what she saw.
But she had no proof.
No proof. Just a feeling. Just the way Eleanor’s eyes had flickered when Veyra mentioned Dorian. Just the smug smile. Just the panic that had flashed across her face when the butler announced Dorian’s call.
If she told Li Wei now, if she accused Eleanor without evidence, it might provoke something. Eleanor might panic. Eleanor might do something rash.
Eleanor might hurt Lily.
Veyra could not let that happen.
She set the phone down on the nightstand. Her hand was shaking. She pressed it flat against the wood to steady it.
She would wait.
She would trust Dorian to find Lily. He was smart. He was capable. He had hacked into the municipal surveillance system like it was nothing. If anyone could track down the kidnappers, it was him.
She just had to be patient.
She hated being patient.
She lay back on the bed and stared at the ceiling.
Her mind drifted back to the café. To Dorian’s fingers flying across the keyboard. To the lines of code flashing on the screen. To the way he had moved through the surveillance system like he owned it.
He was formidable.
That was the word. Formidable. The type of person who walked into a room and everyone else took a step back. Not because they were afraid. Because they knew he was operating on a level they could not reach.
She wanted that.
She wanted to walk into a room and have people listen. She wanted to speak and have people believe her. She wanted to be taken seriously.
She thought about his words at the café. The way he had mocked her. What exactly do you plan to do? Like she was a child playing at something she did not understand.
It had hurt.
But it had also lit a fire.
She sat up. She looked at herself in the mirror across the room. Her face was pale. Her lip was swollen. Her eyes were red.
But something in her expression had changed. Something had hardened.
Just give me a lever, she said to herself, and I can move the world.
She did not know where the words came from. She had read them somewhere. A book. A quote. Something her mother used to say.
She believed them.
She just needed a lever.
Her phone buzzed.
She picked it up. The screen glowed. A message from an unknown number.
No text. Just a photograph.
Veyra’s blood went cold.
It was Lily.
She was inside a dog cage. A metal cage. Too small for her. Her knees were pressed against her chest. Her arms were wrapped around herself. Her face was contorted with terror. Her eyes were wide. Her mouth was open. She looked like she had been crying.
Veyra’s hand flew to her mouth.
She recognized the setup. The way the cage was positioned. The way the lighting was harsh and yellow. The way the floor was concrete.
This was Eleanor’s work.
She knew it. In her bones. In her gut. Eleanor had done this. Eleanor had taken Lily. Eleanor was the one who had tipped off the kidnappers.
The rage that rose in Veyra’s chest was unlike anything she had ever felt.
It was not the hot, explosive anger she had felt on the plane when she slapped Xiomara. It was not the cold, bitter fury she had felt when Caspian confessed about her mother.
This was something else.
This was a fire that burned without smoke. A fire that did not rage. A fire that just kept burning, hotter and hotter, until there was nothing left but ash.
She wanted to kill Eleanor.
She wanted to wrap her hands around Eleanor’s throat and squeeze until the smug smile disappeared forever.
But she could not. Because Lily needed her.
Another message came through.
Come alone. One hour. No police. No bodyguards. No husband. If you tell anyone, the girl dies. If you’re late, the girl dies. If we see anyone with you, the girl dies.
Coordinates attached.
Veyra stared at the screen. Her hands were steady now. The shaking had stopped.
She read the message again. Then again.
One hour. Alone. No help.
This was a trap. She knew it was a trap. Eleanor was not just trying to get rid of Lily. She was trying to get rid of Veyra too.
Kill two birds with one stone.
That was what Phillip had accused her of. But it was Eleanor. It had always been Eleanor.
Veyra stood up. She walked to the bathroom and splashed cold water on her face. She looked at herself in the mirror.
"You can do this," she said to her reflection. "For Lily. You can do this."
She dried her face. She walked out of the bathroom. She stood in the middle of the room and thought.
She needed something. A weapon. Something to defend herself.
But she remembered something. A conversation. Li Wei mentioning that Dorian kept a pistol in his nightstand. For emergencies. She crossed to the nightstand. Opened the drawer.
The pistol was there. Small. Black. Sleek.
She had never held a gun before. Her father had taught her to shoot when she was young. Rifles. At targets. Not pistols. Not like this.
But she remembered the basics. Grip. Aim. Breathe. Squeeze.
She tucked the pistol into her bag. She put on shoes. Grabbed her phone. Checked the coordinates again.
An hour. She had forty-five minutes left.
She walked downstairs. The living room was empty. The family had dispersed. The Old Madam had been taken to her room. Eleanor was nowhere to be seen.
Veyra walked out the front door.
She did not take one of the family cars. They would ask questions. They would report to Li Wei. They would stop her.
She walked to the estate entrance and pulled out her phone. She opened a ride-sharing app. Typed in the coordinates.
The driver was three minutes away.
She stood at the gate and waited. The sun was setting. It would have been beautiful if she had been looking at it for any other reason.
The car arrived. A white sedan. The driver was a middle-aged man with kind eyes and a tool belt in the passenger seat. A contractor. On his way home from work.
"Rough day?" he asked as she got in.
"Something like that."
He looked at her face. At the swollen lip. At the red cheek. He did not ask.
She gave him the address. He typed it into his phone. His eyebrows went up.
"That’s way out there," he said. "Middle of nowhere. You sure?"
"I’m sure."
He shrugged and started driving.
Veyra watched the city disappear through the window. The buildings got shorter. The streets got emptier. The streetlights got farther apart.
She thought about Lily. In a dog cage. Terrified.
She thought about Eleanor. Smug. Satisfied. Already celebrating her victory.
She thought about Dorian. His gray eyes. His cold voice. The way he had mocked her.
She was alone. No backup. No help. No one knew where she was going.
The driver glanced at her in the rearview mirror. "You okay back there?"
"Fine."
"You seem nervous."
"Just tired."
He nodded. He did not push.
The road grew darker. The trees grew thicker. The GPS showed nothing but green on either side.
This was where Eleanor wanted her. Isolated. Vulnerable. Far from help.
Veyra’s hand drifted to her bag. She felt the shape of the pistol through the fabric.
She was not as vulnerable as Eleanor thought.
Her phone buzzed.
She looked at the screen. An unknown number.