Helena slowly closed her eyes, hiding every trace of emotion beneath her lashes.
A private lab at home—how convenient. He wanted her to keep working... for Laica.
Seeing that she seemed to be asleep, Jackson stood there for a long while before quietly closing the door behind him.
...
Sometime past midnight, thirst pulled Helena out of her restless sleep.
She slipped out of bed, bare feet brushing against the cold floor, and tiptoed toward the kitchen for a glass of water.
As she passed the study, a faint light leaked through the gap in the door—and voices drifted out.
Shawn's voice was low and tense.
"Jackson, you went too far today. Sending people to kidnap her, taking those kinds of photos—aren't you afraid Helena will hate you for life if she ever finds out?"
Helena froze. The cup in her hand nearly slipped.
Inside, silence lingered for a few seconds before Jackson's voice broke through—quiet, controlled, and utterly cold.
"She won't know."
His tone carried the faintest hint of a smirk. "Never."
"Still," Shawn said, "Laica told me Helena's been digging into what happened three years ago. You're only making things worse—"