Page 13 of Betray Me
“Father?” I knock softly on the doorframe, affecting the demure posture that’s kept me alive this long. “May I speak with you?”
He doesn’t look up from his papers. “If this is about last night, Belle, we’ve already discussed the consequences of fighting back. Morrison was understanding, but others won’t be so forgiving.”
“It’s not about that.” I step into the room, closing the door behind me with deliberate care. “I overheard you and Mother talking about… alternative uses for family assets.”
That gets his attention. His blue eyes—so similar to my own—narrow as he sets down his pen. “Eavesdropping, Belle? That’s not very becoming of a Gallagher daughter.”
“Neither is being mauled by drunk businessmen,” I reply, letting steel creep into my voice. “But observation… intelligence gathering… that seems much more befitting our family’s reputation.”
Father leans back in his leather chair, studying me with new interest. “And what would you know about intelligence gathering?”
“I know that Senator Caldwell’s wife is having an affair with Judge Patterson. I know that Morrison’s media company is three months from bankruptcy despite his public statements. I know that the Davidson twins aren’t actually twins—the boy was adopted after his real parents died in a convenient car accident.” I meet his gaze steadily. “I know things, Father. I watch, I listen, I remember. Isn’t that more valuable than… the alternative?”
Silence stretches between us, thick with possibility and danger. Father’s expression reveals nothing, but I can practically hear the calculations running behind his eyes.
“Prove it,” he says finally.
“What?”
“Tonight, we’re having a small gathering. Judge Patterson, the Caldwells, and a few others. If you’re truly as observant as you claim, you should be able to gather useful information without being detected.” His smile is sharp enough to cut. “Think of it as an audition.”
My stomach lurches, but I force my voice to remain steady. “And if I succeed?”
“Then perhaps we can discuss a… career change.”
***
The gathering that evening is smaller than usual—only eight guests instead of the usual two dozen. I dress carefully in a pale blue dress that makes me look younger, more innocent. The perfect camouflage for a spy.
As the guests arrive, I position myself in the corners, the shadows, the spaces where important men forget that fourteen-year-old girls have ears. I serve drinks with downcast eyes and listen to everything.
Judge Patterson is being blackmailed by someone outside the network—photos of him with underage boys that could destroy his career. Senator Caldwell’s affair isn’t just personal; his wife is feeding information to a rival political faction. Morrison’s financial troubles run deeper than I suspected—he’s been using network resources to cover his losses, putting the entire operation at risk.
But it’s the conversation between Father and a man I don’t recognize that makes my blood run cold.
“The Queen situation is escalating,” the stranger says, his accent carrying hints of Eastern Europe. “Sebastian’s daughter is proving more resilient than anticipated. Dominic may need to employ more… permanent solutions.”
“Luna Queen is a valuable asset,” Father replies carefully. “Eliminating her would be wasteful.”
“Not elimination. Transformation. There are buyers who prefer their acquisitions to be completely broken, completely compliant. The Queen girl’s spirit could be… redistributed to more cooperative vessels.”
My hands shake as I refill their glasses, the crystal decanter trembling against the rim. They’re talking about destroying Luna Queen’s mind, turning her into some kind of living doll. And if I prove useful as a spy, will I eventually meet the same fate?
“Belle.”
Father’s voice cuts through my spiraling thoughts. Both men are looking at me expectantly.
“Yes, Father?”
“Mr. Wagner was asking about your education. Tell him about your studies.”
It’s a test. I can feel it in the weight of their stares, the way the stranger—Wagner—tilts his head like a predator evaluating prey.
“I attend St. Margaret’s Academy,” I say, falling into the role of dutiful daughter. “Advanced placement in mathematics, literature, and languages. I speak French, Italian, and I’m learning German.”
Wagner’s eyebrows rise. “Impressive. And what do you think of tonight’s… educational opportunities?”
Another test. More dangerous this time.
