Liora's mouth opened. Closed. Her hands started to shake.
"My mom," she said, the words barely holding together. "They said they have my mom."
The room felt smaller instantly. Not because anything moved—but because everything suddenly mattered.
Evelyn was on her feet in a second. She didn't raise her voice. Didn't rush toward Liora. Panic was contagious; she wasn't about to let it spread.
"Sit down," Evelyn said, firm but calm.
Liora shook her head. "We have to call the police. Or Milan. Or—"
"Sit," Evelyn repeated, sharper now.
Something in her tone cut through the spiral. Liora dropped onto the couch, breathing unevenly, fingers digging into her sleeves.
Evelyn picked up the phone from the floor and looked at the call log. Unknown number. No location. No trace.
"Listen to me," Evelyn said, crouching in front of her. "We don't do anything until we understand what they want."
"They took her," Liora whispered. "They actually took her."
"And they called you," Evelyn said. "Which means this isn't random."
Liora looked up at her, eyes wet and unfocused. "What does that mean?"
Evelyn's jaw tightened slightly. "It means this isn't just about money."
Silence settled between them.
Liora swallowed. "Then what is it about?"
Evelyn didn't answer immediately. She straightened slowly, her mind already working, assembling pieces that had been floating around her since Milan, since the contract, since the way certain conversations had gone quiet when she entered rooms.
Finally, she said it.
"Is it money," Evelyn asked evenly, "or is it me?"
Liora froze.
"You think—" Her voice broke. "You think this is because of you?"
"I think," Evelyn replied, eyes steady, "that timing matters. And this timing is too precise."
Liora covered her face with both hands, a sharp breath tearing out of her chest. "I brought you into this. I shouldn't have—"
"No," Evelyn cut in immediately. "You didn't bring me anywhere. And this isn't your fault."
She reached for Liora's hands and pulled them down gently.
"But if this is connected to me," Evelyn continued, "then panicking is exactly what they want."
Liora nodded weakly, trying to breathe through the fear.
"What do we do?" she asked.
Evelyn looked at the phone again.
"We call them back," she said.
Liora's eyes widened. "Now?"
"Yes."
Her hands trembled as she took the phone, but Evelyn placed her fingers over Liora's wrist—grounding, steady.
"I'll talk," Liora whispered.
Evelyn shook her head once. "You ask questions. I'll listen."
Liora hesitated, then nodded. She dialed.
The call connected almost immediately, as if they had been waiting.
A distorted voice answered. "You took your time."
"Where is she?" Liora demanded, her voice cracking despite her effort. "What do you want?"
A pause. Then a short, humorless laugh.
"We don't want money," the voice said. "Money is replaceable."
Liora's breath hitched.
"What we want," the caller continued, "is something far more valuable."
Evelyn leaned closer, her expression unreadable.
"What?" Liora asked.
"We want something that will ruin Evelyn Hart."
The words landed cleanly. Deliberate. Practiced.
Liora's head snapped toward Evelyn, panic flashing across her face.
Evelyn didn't react. Not outwardly.
"Her reputation," the voice went on. "Her momentum. Her future."
"What do you want her to do?" Liora asked, barely holding it together.
There was another pause.
"You'll find out," the voice said. "But first, we need cooperation."
Evelyn lifted her hand slightly.
Liora saw the signal.
"She'll do it," Liora said quickly, the lie burning her throat. "Whatever it is. Just—just don't hurt her."
A location pinged onto the phone almost immediately.
"You have twenty-four hours," the voice said. "Don't involve anyone. Don't get clever."
The line went dead.
The room fell silent again.
Liora stared at the screen, chest heaving. "Evelyn… I—"
Evelyn took the phone from her gently, studying the location with focused eyes.
"They've made a mistake," Evelyn said quietly.
Liora looked at her. "What mistake?"
Evelyn's gaze hardened—not with fear, but resolve.
"They think ruining my career is leverage," she said. "They don't realize it's a battlefield."
She looked up.
"And I don't lose those."
Then she stared at Liora for a moment. "But you need rest. There's a long day ahead."
Liora didn't argue when Evelyn told her to rest.
That, more than the panic earlier, scared Evelyn.
People who argued were still fighting. People who went quiet were already exhausted.
"Just try to sleep," Evelyn said gently, guiding her toward the hallway. "You can't think clearly like this."
Liora hesitated outside her bedroom door, fingers curling into the sleeve of Evelyn's shirt as if letting go might undo the promise.
"You swear you'll help me," she said. Not pleading. Stating a fact she needed to hold onto.
"I will," Evelyn replied without hesitation. "I won't let this end with you losing her."
Liora searched her face, eyes red and swollen, then nodded slowly.
"Wake me if anything happens," she said.
"I will."
Liora stepped inside her room and closed the door behind her.
The click of the latch echoed through the apartment.
Evelyn stood there for a moment longer, listening to the quiet settle again. When she was sure Liora wouldn't come back out, she turned and walked into the living room.
The lights were still on.
The food they hadn't finished sat on the table, untouched now, forgotten. Evelyn sank onto the edge of the couch and let her shoulders drop for the first time that night.
The silence pressed in.
This was my fault.
The thought came uninvited, sharp and heavy.
Not because she had joined Milan. Not because she had refused to be controlled. But because the world she had stepped into didn't punish people directly—it punished the ones around them.
Liora hadn't chosen any of this.
Her mother hadn't chosen anything at all.
Evelyn leaned forward, elbows on her knees, fingers threading together tightly. For a brief moment, her composure cracked. Her throat burned. Her eyes stung.
She forced the feeling down.
Guilt didn't save anyone.
Thinking did.
She straightened slowly and reached for her phone, pulling up the location they had been sent. She studied it carefully—not emotionally, not desperately, but like a puzzle.
They wanted her to react, not investigate.
They wanted fear to drive her.
Evelyn exhaled through her nose and leaned back.
What do they really want?
Not money. They had said that clearly.
They wanted damage. Public damage. Something permanent enough to derail her before she became inconvenient.
Which meant timing mattered.
And optics.
Her fingers tapped lightly against the arm of the couch as her thoughts aligned. Scandal was only effective if it looked organic. A betrayal. A mistake. A fall from grace.
Something that made people stop rooting for her.
Unless—
Her eyes sharpened.
Unless she controlled the narrative before they did.
A quiet understanding settled over her.
If they wanted to ruin her career, then they believed her career was fragile.
That was their mistake.
Evelyn stood and walked to the window, staring out at the city. Lights glimmered below, indifferent and endless. Somewhere out there were people who watched, speculated, waited for stories to break.
She didn't need protection.
She needed leverage.
Slowly, she unlocked her phone and scrolled through her contacts. She stopped when she found the name she was looking for.
Her thumb hovered for a second.
Asking for help was not something she did easily. It meant exposure. It meant debt.
But this wasn't about pride.
This was about getting someone home alive.
Evelyn pressed call.
It rang once.
Twice.
The line connected.
"Evelyn?" the voice on the other end said, surprised but attentive.
She didn't soften her tone. She didn't explain yet.
"I need your help."