EVERYONE WANTS MY MYSTERIOUS

POV: VARELIA

Varelia's first impression of the Vale mansion was pretty clear: nobody bothered to greet her when she arrived. That told her a lot right away. The second thing hit a little harder-everyone was actually inside, waiting for her.

Before she even reached the estate, someone had already swapped her wedding dress for a plain ivory gown. The scent of roses lingered in her hair, though, and that new wedding ring felt awkward on her finger, almost like it didn't belong.

She glanced out the window at this looming mansion-massive, black stone, huge windows, gardens trimmed so neat it felt unnatural, and security cameras tucked under the roof. Guards everywhere. Three in plain sight, two more lurking where most people wouldn't notice. The Vale family definitely had money, but the real message was, they had enemies.

She looked down at her ring. This marriage? It was never about romance, and they'd both understood that from the start. Caelan needed a wife for reasons she hadn't bothered to dig into. She needed a fresh start, something to keep old threats off her track. So they made a pact. Legal marriage, separate lives, no questions, and definitely no expectations-or at least, that's what she thought.

The car stopped. The door opened, an attendant stepped back, and Varelia climbed out. The second she stepped inside, she realized nobody cared about their "agreement." To the people at Vale's table, she wasn't a wife. She was an outsider, and they were ready to make sure she felt it.

The dining room was something out of an old movie: a table long enough to feed a small army, decked out in crystal and silver, loaded with food. At the head sat Elara Vale-Caelan's grandmother-elegant, silver hair twisted up perfectly. Varelia had seen her photo before, but photos missed the punch in her eyes. Sharp, cold, almost like she could see right through any lie you'd ever told.

Next to Elara, Corvin Vale-Caelan's uncle, looking a lot less polite. Across from him, Lysandra, Caelan's younger sister. And right beside Lysandra, Seraphina Drake. Beautiful, glamorous, giving Varelia a look that screamed, "Who let this mess in?"

Varelia moved to stand beside Caelan. He had entered earlier, no fuss, still looking every bit the controlled, unreadable man she'd married. Not a hair out of place, not a word out of turn, eyes like doors locked from the inside.

He glanced at his family, then at her.

"You're late," Elara snapped.

Varelia checked the clock-nope, not late.

"Good evening, Grandmother," Caelan said, cool as ever.

Elara didn't even acknowledge him, just kept her gaze locked on Varelia. "So this is her."

Varelia offered a polite smile. "Good evening, Mrs. Vale."

"Grandmother," Caelan corrected.

Elara's face went cold. "Very well. Grandmother."

Varelia kept her expression flat. One thing she'd learned: people who try to intimidate you get upset when you don't play along.

Caelan pulled out the chair next to him. "Sit."

She did. As soon as she sat, Seraphina smiled-a beautiful, empty smile.

"So," Seraphina raised her wineglass, "you're Varelia."

"Yes."

"I've heard next to nothing about you."

"That makes two of us."

Lysandra nearly spit out her drink. Caelan's eyes flickered with the tiniest hint of amusement.

Seraphina's smile got tight. "So you like privacy."

"Usually."

"Interesting."

Seraphina leaned back. "Where did you study?"

"Several places."

"Which ones?"

"Private institutions."

"Which institution?"

Varelia held her gaze. "Does it matter?"

Seraphina laughed, soft but sharp. "Of course. You're married to the heir of Vale International."

"So?"

"So everyone will want to know what kind of woman joined the Vale family."

Varelia reached for her water. "I think they'll survive without knowing."

The table went quiet. Corvin looked entertained. Lysandra covered another smile. Even Elara shifted, barely.

But Seraphina wasn't done. "What do you do?"

"I work."

"Where?"

"Independently."

"Doing what?"

"Various things."

Seraphina blinked. "That's vague."

"It's accurate."

Caelan's hand paused. He was listening now.

Seraphina tilted her head. "And your family?"

Varelia's hand stopped, just for a second. Nobody noticed-except Caelan.

"My family isn't relevant."

Seraphina's eyes sharpened. "Not relevant?"

"No."

"That's unusual."

"Maybe."

Seraphina turned to Elara. "I just find it odd. We know almost nothing about the woman Caelan married."

Elara's voice was ice. "That's exactly my concern."

Varelia looked at her.

Elara set her napkin down. "Caelan will lead this family. His wife will carry the Vale name everywhere. Marriage isn't a private matter here."

"I understand."

"Do you?"

"Yes."

"And you still agreed to marry him."

"I did."

Elara studied her. "Why?"

Varelia thought-protection. Her old life had gotten dangerous. Caelan offered a clean break, a deal they didn't have to talk about. Sometimes, survival meant walking in here and pretending she belonged.

She said, "Because it was practical."

Corvin laughed. "Practical?"

Seraphina smiled. "That's one way to call it."

Caelan finally spoke. "The marriage is legitimate."

"I never said it wasn't," Corvin replied, fixing his gaze on her. "I just wonder how long a practical arrangement survives in this family."

Varelia looked him right in the eye. "That depends on whether anyone makes it impractical."

Lysandra perked up. Corvin's smile vanished. Caelan stayed composed, but something shifted in his eyes.

Then Elara nodded at a servant. "Bring the jade."

The servant left. Varelia watched him go. She recognized the artifact-had seen photos. The Jade Empress. A jade sculpture supposedly once owned by royalty, lost for decades. Insanely valuable.

The servant came back with a velvet-lined case. Elara opened it, and everyone leaned in. The jade glowed under the chandelier, a showpiece if there ever was one.

"This," Elara announced, "was acquired today."

Corvin admired it. "A masterpiece."

Seraphina nodded. "Absolutely beautiful."

Lysandra leaned forward. "I've read about it."

Caelan studied it quietly. Farther down, an elderly expert adjusted his glasses. "Authentic. No question."

Varelia looked at the jade. She didn't mean to say anything-but the carving was too clean, the color off. A faint discoloration near the base. Something was wrong.

She glanced at the expert, then Elara, then back at the jade.

"That's a fake."

Silence slammed over the room.

The expert stared at her. Seraphina set her glass down, Corvin burst out laughing.

"Excuse me?"

Varelia stayed calm. "I said it's fake."

The expert reddened. "Young lady, I've examined jade for forty years."

"I believe you."

"I authenticated this piece myself."

"Then you authenticated the wrong one."

A long, shocked silence.

Seraphina laughed behind her hand. "You've been here ten minutes and you're accusing our expert of fraud?"

"I didn't accuse anyone of fraud," Varelia said. "I called it fake."

"Then prove it."

She looked at the artifact. "I don't need to."

Corvin leaned back, laughing again. "Of course you don't. Ridiculous."

Elara's gaze turned hard. "Why do you say it's fake?"

Varelia met her eyes. "Because the real one has a fracture, under the left shoulder."

The expert frowned. "There is no fracture."

"Exactly."

The expert got up, handled the jade, checked it under the light. "There's no fracture!"

Varelia said nothing.

He turned to her, triumphant. "You see?"

She nodded. "Yes."

"Then perhaps you owe this family an apology."

"No."

He froze. Her voice stayed soft. "The real Jade Empress has a fracture beneath the left shoulder. This one doesn't."

Seraphina laughed, "That's your evidence?"

"No."

Varelia looked at the jade again. "It's how I know. The real proof is the carving."

The expert scoffed. "You expect us to believe you can spot a priceless artifact simply by looking?"

"No."

"Then what are you claiming?"

Varelia relaxed in her chair. "This isn't the original. It's a carefully made replica."

The expert's face turned dark. "Impossible."

She shrugged. "Then keep it."

Elara eyed her. "You don't seem worried about being believed."

"I'm not."

"Why?"

"Because your opinion doesn't change what it is."

The room fell quiet again. Varelia sipped her water. No interest in arguing. She wasn't here to impress anyone-just to stay safe.

Then Caelan broke the silence. "Where is the real one?"

Varelia's hand paused. Everyone looked at him. He wasn't watching his grandmother anymore-he was watching Varelia. Face unreadable, but his eyes had shifted: focused, sharp, genuinely interested.

Varelia met his gaze. He was the only one here who hadn't tried to humiliate her. Somehow, that made him more dangerous.

She smiled, just a little. "I do know."

Seraphina's face changed. Caelan leaned back. "Where?"

Varelia stared at the jade, then at this stranger she'd married.

"The real one," she said, voice quiet, "isn't in a museum."

She let the silence hang. "It isn't in a private collection."

Caelan pressed, "Then where is it?"

Varelia smiled. "Somewhere the person who sold you this replica really doesn't want you looking."

For the first time that night, Caelan looked at her like he'd never seen her before. Varelia knew, then, she'd made a mistake. She'd sparked his curiosity. She'd handed the Vale family a reason to underestimate her. And somewhere, she'd tipped off

POV: CAELAN

Caelan never liked people who were too calm. Usually, the quiet ones were the most dangerous. In business, calm meant someone had done their homework. In a fight for power, calm meant confidence. In an enemy-well, you got the picture.

But Varelia's calm? That was different.

She walked into the Vale mansion a total stranger, let his grandmother interrogate her, let Seraphina take apart her life in front of the whole family, then announced-like it was nothing-that the family's priceless jade artifact was actually a fake.

She didn't raise her voice. Didn't get defensive, either. When everyone laughed at her, she didn't even flinch.

Twenty minutes after dinner ended, Caelan stood in his study, staring at the jade sculpture on his desk while three experts argued about whether it was real.

"It cannot be a forgery." The oldest expert said it like he'd been personally insulted.

Another expert bent in for a closer look, adjusting his lens. "The carving technique's nearly identical to the reference photos."

"Nearly," Caelan echoed, deadpan.

The man paused. Caelan wasn't letting him off that easy. "That's not the same as identical."

Nobody said a word. The third expert examined the jade under the lamp, his hand steady. Suddenly, his face changed.

"Wait."

All eyes shifted his way. He pointed under the sculpture. "There."

A tiny flaw showed just beneath the carved design. Caelan moved in. "What is it?"

The expert swallowed. "A modern cutting mark."

The first expert shook his head right away. "That doesn't prove anything."

"It does if the original was carved completely by hand," the third shot back. He turned the jade again. There, just as Varelia said-almost invisible-a thin seam beneath the left shoulder. Caelan's eyes narrowed.

"Get me the authentication record."

His assistant obeyed without question. Within minutes, the room fell silent as everyone stared at the old documents. Details didn't line up. The weight was off. The mineral makeup didn't match. The fracture patterns were different from the pictures. This Jade Empress wasn't just damaged. It was a fake-a forgery so good, even seasoned experts had missed it.

Caelan sent everyone out. After the last expert left, he stayed standing over the jade. Varelia didn't guess. She just...knew. He remembered her at dinner. She didn't even look surprised when they mocked her. As if she'd been waiting for them to be proven wrong.

His phone buzzed. A message from his assistant: THE EXPERTS CONFIRMED IT. THE ARTIFACT IS A FORGERY.

He stared at the message. Then a new thought crept in: how did his wife know how to spot something like this?

He left the study, heading straight for the library. Varelia was there, standing by the tall windows with a book in her hands. She'd changed into a plain dark dress. Her hair hung loose. She looked almost unremarkable-and that was weird, too. She looked like someone who didn't want to be noticed.

He walked in. "You were right."

She turned a page. "I usually am."

He raised his brow. She glanced up, the faintest trace of a smile on her lips. "About the jade," he clarified.

"I assumed so."

He stepped closer. "The experts confirmed it was a forgery."

She replied, cool as ever, "I see."

"That's all you have to say?"

She didn't miss a beat. "What do you want me to say?"

"I don't know. Congratulations?" It came out shrugging.

She closed her book. "Congratulations."

He looked at her. She didn't blink. The silence stretched out, comfortable for her, awkward for him.

Finally: "How did you know?" he asked.

"I've seen similar pieces."

"Where?"

"In places."

He waited.

"That's not an answer."

"It's the answer you get."

He watched her, searching for nerves or hesitation-something. But there wasn't any.

"You collect antiques?"

"No."

"Studied art?"

"Not formally."

"So where the hell did you learn enough to spot a fake that fooled three experts?"

Her expression was steady. "Experience."

He didn't let her off the hook. "What kind of experience?"

"The kind that's hard to explain."

His jaw tightened. "Try."

She studied him. "Some things are easier to spot when you've seen them before."

He narrowed his eyes. "That's all you've got?"

She shrugged, almost indifferent. "I don't care if you believe me."

He should've been irritated. Instead, he was...impressed. Most people got nervous when he pressed them. Varelia just got quieter. There was a difference between timid and controlled. He was starting to think her calm wasn't about fear. It was about control.

Before he could push further, the library doors swung open. Seraphina strode in, face shifting when she saw them together.

"Caelan."

He nodded.

She looked straight at Varelia. "I was looking for you."

Varelia waited.

Seraphina came closer. "I wanted to apologize."

Caelan frowned. Varelia just looked faintly surprised.

"For what?"

"For earlier. I might've been too harsh."

"You were," Varelia replied without blinking.

Seraphina's smile twitched. Caelan almost laughed.

"I was just concerned about Caelan," Seraphina said.

"That's understandable," Varelia agreed.

Seraphina's eyes narrowed. "I don't know you."

Varelia deadpanned, "Neither do I."

It rattled Seraphina for a second. Then she turned back to Caelan. "That's the problem." She softened. "You don't know anything about her either."

Caelan stayed quiet.

Seraphina's voice grew sharper. "No professional history. No prominent family links. No social circle anyone knows. Yet she walks in and outsmarts experts who do this for a living."

"You accusing her of something?" Caelan asked.

"I'm saying she's not what she seems."

Varelia closed her book fully. "Does it matter?"

"Of course it matters," Seraphina argued.

"Why?"

"Because you're part of this family now."

Varelia glanced at Caelan. "Then maybe you should ask him."

Seraphina bristled. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"He married me." Varelia's tone didn't change.

Seraphina turned to Caelan. "You're okay with this?"

He watched Varelia walk out the door. "Did I say I was?"

Seraphina stepped closer, urgent. "She's pretending, Caelan."

"Maybe."

"She's acting innocent."

"Maybe."

"She's hiding something."

He finally met her eyes. "Everyone is."

That stopped Seraphina cold.

"You don't get it."

He looked at her, quieter now. "I get it. Probably too well."

He walked away and found Varelia upstairs alone in their private sitting room, curtains open to glittering city lights. She stood with her back to him, looking at her ring. For a second, he wondered if she regretted saying yes.

"You never mentioned antiques, you know."

She didn't turn. "You never asked."

"I'm asking now."

She smiled-he could hear it.

"I noticed."

He crossed the room. "So who taught you?"

"No one."

He snorted. "Impossible."

"Guess I'm impossible, then."

He stared at her. She finally turned; her eyes danced, just briefly, before the playfulness faded.

"You should sleep," she said.

"You're dodging the question."

"Yes."

She admitted it so easily he almost laughed. "At least you're honest."

"I try."

"About everything?"

"No."

That stopped him.

He watched her, not blinking. "Do you regret marrying me?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"Because I knew exactly what deal I was making."

He stepped closer. "And what deal was that?"

"A marriage without questions."

His eyes darkened. "I never agreed to that."

"You agreed to separate lives," she replied quietly.

He nodded. "I remember."

"So we keep the arrangement."

She walked past him, her perfume lingering. He almost reached for her; stopped. "Varelia."

She paused.

"If I find out you lied to me-"

She shrugged. "I probably will."

He looked at her.

She turned, met his eyes. "Everyone does. Eventually."

And she was gone.

He stayed behind, thinking: He'd married a woman he barely knew. And maybe, the problem wasn't how many secrets Varelia kept-but how skilled she'd become at hiding them.

Later that night, something woke him. Movement downstairs. He checked the clock: 2:13 a.m. He slipped out of bed.

The house was silent except for a faint light shining from the private artifact room. He pushed the door open-just a crack. Inside, Varelia stood over the fake Jade Empress, under a powerful lamp. She wore gloves, not admiring the jade, but really studying it.

She leaned in, lifted a small magnifier from her pocket, and checked the base. Her expression shifted-barely-but Caelan caught it: concern.

She bent closer. There, on the underside, was a tiny mark even the experts had missed. Varelia whispered something to herself.

Caelan stepped in. She turned so quick he almost missed the flicker of surprise.

"What're you doing?"

She glanced at the artifact. "Looking at it."

"At two in the morning?"

"I couldn't sleep."

"With this gear?" He nodded at the microscope.

She looked down. "This?"

"Yes."

"It was a gift."

"From who?"

She smiled. "Someone you don't know."

He joined her at the lamp. "So, what did you find?"

She hesitated, then pointed. "That."

He leaned in-narrowed his eyes. A tiny symbol, etched almost underneath.

"What is it?"

"I don't know."

That made him pause. "Really? You don't know?"

She shook her head. "No."

"Then why'd it bother you?"

She looked straight at him. "Because I've seen it before."

The air changed, heavier.

"Where?"

She didn't answer, just backed away.

He waited, but she was done. "It's nothing."

He knew she was lying.

She turned off the lamp, the room going instantly dark.

She brushed past him. "Good night, Caelan."

He watched her go, an unfamiliar chill settling in his gut.

He walked back to his study. At 2:31 a.m., he called his assistant. "I want a full background check on Varelia. Everything."

"Everything?" His assistant's voice was tight.

"Family, education, employment, travel history. Dig up everything you can."

He hung up, expecting it would take time. But forty-seven minutes later, his assistant called.

"Report," Caelan said, not even waiting for a hello.

There was only silence-a little too long.

"What'd you find?"

"Sir..." The hesitation didn't bode well.

Caelan's stare sharpened. "Say it."

"We checked every database. There's almost nothing."

He went cold. "What do you mean?"

"No school records we can verify. No reliable education history. No jobs. No financial footprint for someone her age. No meaningful social ties."

"Impossible."

"That's what I thought."

"Keep searching."

"We did." A pause. "...That's the disturbing part."

Caelan clenched the phone.

"We didn't find a secret past," his assistant whispered. "...We found proof that someone erased it."

Caelan's eyes drifted to the dark hallway leading to Varelia's room.

The real question wasn't what Varelia was hiding from him.

It was who had gone to such lengths to make sure no one would ever find it-and why.

POV: VARELIA

Varelia could tell Caelan had looked into her before breakfast. She didn't need anyone to say it out loud. The mood in the house felt a little tighter.

Most folks would never pick up on it. The head servant held himself a bit stiffer when speaking to her. One of the guards in the eastern hall eyed her just a moment too long as she passed. Even the young maid with her morning tea seemed jumpy.

Caelan had either told the staff something, or he'd told someone else and word spread. Didn't really matter. Varelia expected it.

She sat by her bedroom window, alone, stirring her tea and staring at a message on her phone.

THE VALE FAMILY IS NOT SAFE.

No sender. No number. Nothing to trace. The message came through a channel almost nobody even knew existed.

She read it, once, then a second time. Deleted it. Put the phone away.

She'd lived through too many warnings to get rattled by another. People had been telling her to go, to hide, or to watch herself for years. Sometimes they meant well. Sometimes they wanted something from her. Sometimes, they just wanted to see her make a mistake.

She'd learned early on-don't flinch. Not until you know who's really talking.

She finished her tea and looked out at the big, perfectly kept mansion. Maybe the Vale family wasn't safe. But she'd never expected otherwise. She married Caelan Vale because his name offered her things she couldn't get as Varelia Voss. Protection. Visibility. Distance. As Varelia Vale, hardly anyone would go looking for Varelia Voss.

That was the idea, anyway.

Plans fall apart when other people get involved. And clearly, Caelan had started to dig.

She got up, moved to the wardrobe, thinking of her carefully constructed life. The records-a birth certificate, transcripts, jobs, taxes, bank accounts, travel papers-all neatly arranged. All exactly where they belonged.

Nothing dangerous. Nothing linking back.

The person Caelan was chasing didn't exist. The real Varelia was gone. What remained was a new skin she'd built out of little pieces, with sharp attention, because she had to.

So why did the message bother her? It wasn't that someone found her. Someone always found her. The words stuck because whoever sent it wrote, "The Vale family is not safe." Not, "You're not safe." Not, "Caelan's in danger." The whole family. That felt pointed. And dangerous.

She left her room.

The house was busy, alive and orderly. Servants bustled down the halls with trays and flowers. Security at every door. Voices echoing from the dining room.

She headed for the main staircase. A maid with folded linens nearly collided with her.

"Sorry, ma'am."

Varelia stepped aside. "It's fine."

The girl rushed off-scared, but not of Varelia. Scared to be seen near her. Interesting.

When Varelia walked into the dining room, Seraphina was waiting, next to Elara. Seraphina wore a cream suit that probably cost more than some people made in a year.

She looked up. "Good morning."

"Good morning."

Seraphina's gaze slid over Varelia's plain dress. "You really don't care about appearances, do you?"

Pouring herself coffee, Varelia shrugged. "Not especially."

Seraphina smirked. "I suppose that makes life easier."

"It does."

"Some women would put in more effort after marrying Caelan."

Varelia sat. "Some women aren't me."

Elara peered over her paper. "Confidence is useful."

Varelia met her eyes. "So is knowing when to put it away."

A flicker of approval crossed Elara's face. Quick and gone. Seraphina saw it. Her mouth tightened.

She asked, "Have you decided what you're going to do about your position in the family?"

"My position?" Varelia asked.

"As Caelan's wife."

Varelia buttered her toast. "Still figuring out where everything is."

Seraphina snorted. "You mean you're going to do nothing?"

"I didn't say that."

"Then what are your ambitions?"

Varelia looked at her evenly. "To finish breakfast."

Lysandra, just entering, burst out laughing. Seraphina gave her a dagger glare.

Varelia kept eating. Already, she was learning something valuable about this family.

Elara cared about control. Corvin, power. Lysandra, honesty. Seraphina, status.

Caelan? Caelan was tricky. He collected information. He hated being in the dark. That made him dangerous. But also-predictable, if you paid close enough attention.

After breakfast, she spent hours drifting around the mansion. She mapped out the heavily-guarded halls. Noticed which servants had been around the longest. Which doors needed codes. Which cameras kept watch-and which ones, for some strange reason, missed patches of the second floor.

She never asked anyone questions. She just watched.

One staff member caught her eye. Martin, they called him. He handled several private rooms for the family. Polite, quiet, unremarkable. Almost too unremarkable.

There's a difference between people who want to vanish and people who just blend in. Martin never looked straight at the cameras. He always had his back to a wall. And twice that morning, she spotted him carrying documents toward Caelan's office.

First time, she dismissed it. Second time, she remembered-Caelan's office was supposed to stay locked unless he was there.

At 11:47, Martin went inside. By 11:54, he was out again, empty-handed. Varelia, hidden in a nearby corridor, watched. He slipped away down the back stairwell.

She didn't follow. Not yet. Better to wait.

She picked up a novel in the sitting room and settled in. At noon, Caelan came home unexpectedly. She heard him downstairs-his voice, then his assistant, footsteps on the stairs.

She closed her book. Caelan appeared in the doorway.

"You're here," he said.

"Apparently."

His eyes flicked to her book. "What are you reading?"

"A book."

"Very informative."

"I try."

He stepped inside. "Did you sleep well?"

"Yes."

"Interesting."

"Why?"

"You didn't seem tired this morning."

"Should I?"

"Most people are."

"I guess I'm not most people."

He narrowed his eyes. There it was. That look-studying, weighing, searching for loose edges. Whatever his investigators found, she doubted it gave him much.

She smiled.

"Did your investigation go well?"

Caelan didn't move. "You knew?"

"You're not subtle."

"I thought I was."

"You were, a little."

"How did you know, then?"

She turned back to her book. "Your assistant's looked at me six times today. He doesn't usually."

He kept watching her. "Anything else?"

"Security team shifted positions. Elara asked the head servant if I'd gone out."

He paused, soaking that in.

"You should tell them to be more careful," she added.

"Why?"

"If I spot their mistakes, someone else will, too."

The silence that followed had weight to it.

He studied her. "Who are you?"

She smiled. "You know my name."

"That's not what I meant."

"No," she said, closing her book. "But that's all you get."

He moved closer. "Did you get any strange messages today?"

Her heart didn't flutter. Her face gave nothing away. "No."

A lie, and he probably knew it. But he didn't push. He left.

Varelia listened to his footsteps fade. She glanced toward the hall. Martin was there again, hovering near Caelan's office, watching.

Interesting. Very interesting.

As night fell, the house settled. Caelan's office was up on the second floor, usually off-limits unless you were family.

Varelia waited. Near midnight, she saw Martin again-slipping down the corridor, no lights, stopping outside the office, peeking over his shoulder. A quiet click. Door unlocked. He went in.

She stayed hidden, waited.

The light shone under the door. Five minutes. Ten. At seventeen, he stepped out, relocked the door, and disappeared.

She waited a little longer, then moved.

Surprisingly, the office door opened easily. The alarms should've been tripped. But they weren't. That made her uneasy.

She stepped in. The smell: leather, cedar. Everything in place. Desk. Computer. Files. Bookshelves. No obvious mess.

She moved to the desk-checked drawers, nothing. Computer, nothing. Paperwork, all untouched.

Then a voice behind her.

"Looking for something?"

She froze. Caelan stood in the doorway. No tie, jacket off, but his face was all control and suspicion.

"A book," Varelia said.

He glanced at his bookshelves. "A book?"

"Yes."

"At midnight."

"I couldn't sleep."

"You have a library."

"I know."

"You came here anyway?"

"I was curious."

"About what?"

"Your books."

He didn't crack. "You could have asked."

"Would you say yes?"

"No."

"Then asking seemed pointless."

He took a long look at her. "Get some sleep, Varelia."

She walked past him. At the doorway he spoke again.

"Stop wandering at night."

She turned. "Why?"

"Not everyone here is harmless."

That caught her attention.

"Is that a warning?" she asked.

"Yes."

"For me?"

"For anyone."

She watched him a moment, then left. When his steps faded, she stopped.

Something glittered under Caelan's desk-a tiny metallic speck, nearly invisible against the wood.

She knelt and pried it free. A device, no bigger than her thumbnail. Military-grade listening gear. Not standard. She turned it over. Etched on the side was a symbol the same one she'd seen under the fake Jade Empress.

Her pulse finally jumped. Someone hadn't just watched Caelan-they slipped a device into the private office of the Vale heir. And left the same mark tied to that forged artifact.

Varelia stared at the device, her mind racing. That encrypted warning echoed in her memory:

THE VALE FAMILY IS NOT SAFE.

And now, for the first time, she wondered-was the sender warning her, or giving her a job to do?