Chapter 4 The First King Makes His Move

Ava didn't flinch easily. She had been screamed at by billionaires in silk pajamas, dragged into prenup fights between tech CEOs and their 22-year-old trophy fiancées, and once watched a hedge fund manager cry over the wrong kind of champagne. But nothing prepared her for Victor Leclair. He summoned her at sunset. No explanation. No assistant. Just a single message relayed through a bodyguard: > " *The host will see you now. Come alone."* The sun was bleeding into the ocean when she reached the upper villa. It was all glass and steel and menace.

Perched like a predator above the cliffs, the villa reflected the orange sky in fractured pieces. Guards stood at the entrance like statues-watching her, but not speaking. She walked in. No clipboard. No control. Just instinct. The room was silent. No music. No humming tech. Just a slow ticking from the antique clock on the far wall. Victor sat at the center of it all. Not behind a desk. Not on a throne. On a couch. Barefoot. In a navy shirt and white slacks, sipping what looked like tea. He looked like nothing-and everything. Tall. Weathered. Mid-sixties, maybe. Sharp eyes, silver hair, the kind of face you didn't look at for too long unless you wanted to feel inspected. Ava stopped three paces away and didn't speak. Victor smiled faintly, like someone who'd already won a game you hadn't realized you were playing. "You're not what I expected," he said. She raised a brow. "I've been told that before." He chuckled. "Do you know how many planners applied for this job?" "I assume a lot." "Hundreds. We filtered for discretion, stamina, and the ability to lie without blinking. You were the top pick." "I don't lie," she said. He tilted his head. "Then you're not in the right business." A beat passed. His voice dropped a note lower. "You've met him, haven't you?" Ava didn't move. "Who?" Victor smiled wider. "Kai." The name hung in the air like smoke. She said nothing. He leaned back, glass in hand. "Let me guess. He was polite. Distant. Just enough danger to make you curious." Still, she didn't speak. Victor's smile vanished. "That man is not your concern." "I disagree," Ava said quietly. "He showed up uninvited. He walks past security like they work for him. And now I'm getting anonymous messages warning me about people I'm working for." Victor stood. Not fast. Not threatening. Just... final. "Ms. Monroe," he said calmly. "You're here to do a job. That's all. Plan the parties. Serve the drinks. Keep the cameras out. What happens beyond that gate is not your concern." She felt the chill then. Not in the air. In the weight of his words. "What is beyond the gate?" she asked. Victor stepped past her, toward the balcony. "The future," he said. "Or the end of it." She left the villa with her thoughts spiraling. Victor had barely said anything. But what he didn't say screamed louder than a headline. There was a game here. And she wasn't even a player. She was the damn board. Back in her room, Ava poured herself a drink from the mini bar and stared at the message still glowing on her phone. Stop looking for my name. Start looking for his. She opened a new search. Victor Leclair – scandals – affiliations – family. What she found was worse than nothing. Everything had been cleaned. No past. No enemies. No ties. No children. And yet Kai existed. Somewhere between erasure and invention. A man with no records. No fingerprints. No trace- Her phone buzzed again. Unknown Number: "Don't trust Victor. He doesn't invite people without giving them a role." Ava stared at it, heart thudding. Another message came in, seconds later: "And he didn't invite you to plan a party."