The cool evening air swirled around Charlotte Rosewood as her heels clicked urgently against the cobbled pavement. The soft golden hue of the setting sun had given way to the dusky veil of twilight. Her pulse raced, not from the brisk walk—but from anticipation, dread, and the weight of secrets she could no longer keep.
"It's already 7:10," she whispered under her breath, glancing at her silver wristwatch. "Damn it, I'll be late... I hope Oliver won't get furious."
She adjusted the hood of her beige trench coat, her face half-covered, as she moved through the winding alleys of the upper district. With guards stationed at every gate and her father's influence spread like wildfire across Rosewood, sneaking out once had been a challenge.
Twice, though... twice was a reckless gamble.
By 7:30 PM, Charlotte finally reached the secluded rooftop lounge where Oliver had asked her to meet him. A quiet haven with a panoramic view of the glowing cityscape below. He was already there, hands in his coat pockets, his back straight as always—military posture never really left him.
"Hello, Mr. Oliver," Charlotte greeted with a sheepish smile. "I'm so sorry I'm late… it was really hard to sneak out of the house twice with so many guards."
Oliver turned to her slowly, his brows knitting.
"Twice?" he asked, voice clipped.
Charlotte hesitated, suddenly aware of how her words sounded. Her smile faltered.
"…Well… I think… one more person knows about me tracking my brother to stain his reputation…" she admitted quietly.
Oliver stiffened. His usually calm demeanor cracked.
"What the hell, Charlotte—who is it? Tell me. Now."
Her eyes dropped to the floor. Her fingers nervously twisted a loose thread from her sleeve.
"…It's… it's Sabestian Ellington."
The silence that followed was deafening.
Oliver's expression twisted into disbelief, then rage. He stepped back as if she had slapped him.
"You… ruined it, Charlotte. Are you talking about Sabestian Ellington? THE Sabestian Ellington? The man who owns Maison Ellington—the biggest, most elite restaurant empire in the world?" His voice was rising, trembling with panic. "He knows the secret? You're finished. Not just you—me too. If that guy so much as whispers this to your brother… we won't live long enough to beg for our lives."
Charlotte stayed still, absorbing the venom of his words.
"No… no, no, trust me. Nothing will happen. I'll handle it," she said, trying to sound calm. "Even if something does happen, I'll protect you. Okay? Please. Chill."
"Why are you so sure?" Oliver hissed, eyes sharp. "How the hell did he find out in the first place? Tell me. Everything."
Charlotte sighed deeply, gathering her thoughts.
"I received an anonymous text this morning," she began. "It said, 'Meet me at Elle at 3 PM. I know about your plan to stain your brother's reputation.' I didn't know what to do—I panicked. I didn't have a choice. So I went."
She looked at Oliver, her voice low.
"The place was completely empty. No customers. No staff. Just silence. Then… I saw Sabestian."
She looked away as memories flooded back.
"He told me he'd hired someone to follow me. That's how he found out everything. But he claimed it wasn't intentional. At first, I didn't believe him. But then… he confessed."
"Confessed?" Oliver asked, already anticipating something worse.
Charlotte hesitated. "He told me… he's in love with me."
Oliver blinked. "You're kidding."
"I wish I were," Charlotte muttered. "He said he wanted to confess to me in person. That's why he set it all up—emptying the place, sending the message. I told him I wasn't interested. That I couldn't afford to hope. But he pleaded. Said he'd help me take down my brother. That we should become allies. And honestly… I didn't feel anything for him. So I agreed. Because I needed help. Because I thought once I agreed, he'd let it go."
Oliver sighed, massaging his temples.
"Okay. I can't blame you for that. Not completely."
He reached into his coat and handed her a sealed envelope.
"Take this," he said. "The documents against your brother. Every dirty deal. Every bloodstained lie. Everything you need to burn him down."
Charlotte's hands trembled slightly as she took the envelope.
"Thank you, Mr. Oliver. I couldn't have done this without you. Truly. What should we do next?"
Oliver didn't answer immediately. He turned away, staring out at the city lights below.
"Next? Nothing. I'm done."
Charlotte froze. "What do you mean?"
"I'm out, Charlotte. I've done what I could. I don't trust that Sabestian. And I'm not about to get dragged deeper into this mess. My work ends here."
"But… you promised!" she cried.
He shook his head.
"I helped because I once worked for your father—and I respected him. But I'm officially retired. I won't risk what's left of my life. Not for this."
There was a pause. Then, softer, he added:
"Charlotte… if you want my advice—show this to the media. At a big event. A very public one. That's your best shot. Maybe your only shot. Target a winemaker's gala. Make it impossible for your brother to cover it up."
With that, Oliver turned and left without another word.
Charlotte stood there, numb. The envelope clutched in her hand felt like it weighed a hundred pounds.
"A big event?" she whispered. "There's no major event scheduled in Rosewood's winemaking circuit…"
She bit her lip. "Then I'll make one."
It was the only option.
And there was only one person who could help her pull it off.
She pulled out her phone, quickly dialing Sabestian's number.
It rang once. Twice.
"Charlotte?" came his smooth voice on the other end. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"
"Can we meet?" she asked, trying to steady her tone. "Are you free tomorrow?"
"Of course. Always for you." A pause. "At Elle. 7 PM?"
"Perfect. See you there."
She hung up.
Her heart ached with the lie she was about to live.
"I'm sorry, Sabestian," she murmured to herself. "But I have to use you. Even if I don't feel anything for you. Not the way you want me to."
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