Page 61 of The Final Gambit
Instead of responding to his brother, Grayson turned and handed the crystal to me. I stared at it, but if there was a message or clue contained in this crystal, I couldn’t make it out with my naked eye.
We could use a jeweler’s loupe, I thought.Or—
“The flashlight,” I breathed. I reached inside the leather satchel. Locking my hand around the flashlight, I took a quick breath. I held out the crystal, then shined the light through. The irregularities caused the light to refract just so. At first, the result was incomprehensible, but then I flipped the crystal over and tried again.
This time, the flashlight’s beam refracted to form a message. As I stared at the light projected onto the floor, there was no missing the words—the warning.
DON’T TRUST ANYONE.
CHAPTER 49
Achill hit the base of my neck, like the feeling of being watched from behind or standing knee-deep in long grass and hearing the rattle of a snake. My grip tightening around the crystal, I couldn’t look away.
DON’T TRUST ANYONE.
“What is that supposed to mean?” I said, my stomach lined with dread as I finally looked to Jameson and Grayson in quick succession. “Is it a clue?”
We still had one object left in the bag. This wasn’t over. Maybe the letters of this warning could be rearranged, or the first letter in every word made out initials, or—
“Can I see the crystal?” Jameson asked. I gave it to him, and he slowly rotated it under the flashlight’s beam until he found what he was looking for. “There, at the top. Three letters, too small and faint to make out without the light.”
“Fin?” Grayson said, an edge to the question.
“Fin.” Jameson placed the crystal back in my hand, then brought his dark green eyes to mine. “As infinished, Heiress. The end. This isn’t a clue. This isit.”
My game. Quite possibly the last bequest of Tobias Hawthorne. And this was it?Don’t trust anyone. “But what about the USB?” I said. The game couldn’t be over. This couldn’t be all that Tobias Hawthorne had left us with.
“Misdirection?” Jameson tossed out. “Or maybe the old man left you a gameanda USB. Either way, this started with the delivery of the bag, and it ends here.”
Setting my jaw, I righted the crystal in the flashlight’s beam, and the words reappeared on the floor.DON’T TRUST ANYONE.
After everything, that was all the billionaire had for me?My grandfather always thought seven steps ahead, I could hear Jameson saying.He saw dozens of permutations in how things could play out, planned for every eventuality, strategized for each and every possible future.
What kind of strategy was this? Was I supposed to think that Toby’s captor was closer than he appeared? That his reach was long, and anyone could be in his pocket? Was I supposed to questioneveryonearound me?
Take a step back, I thought.Go back to the beginning. Consider the framing and your charge.I stopped. I breathed. And I thought.Eve.This game had been triggered when we met. Jameson had theorized that his grandfather had foreseen something about the trouble that had brought Eve here, but what if it was simpler than that?
Much, much simpler.
“This game started because Eve and I met.” I said the words out loud, each leaving my mouth with the force of a shot, though I barely spoke over a whisper. “She was the trigger.”
My thoughts jumped to the night before. To the solarium, the files, and Eve with her phone. “What if ‘Don’t trust anyone,’” I said slowly, “really means ‘Don’t trust her’?”
Until I said the words, I hadn’t realized how much I’d let my guard down.
“If the old man had intended for you to be wary only of Eve, the message wouldn’t have saiddon’t trust anyone. It would have saiddon’t trust her.” Grayson spoke like someone who couldn’t possibly be anything less than correct, let alonewrong.
But I thought about Eve asking to be left alone in Toby’s wing. The way she’d looked at the clothes in my closet. How quickly she’d gotten Grayson on her side.
If Eve hadn’t looked so much like Emily, would he be defending her now?
“Anyoneincludes Eve by definition,” I pointed out. “It has to. If she’s a threat—”
“She. Is. Not. A. Threat.”Grayson’s vocal cords tensed against his throat. In my mind’s eye, I could still see him on his knees in front of me.
“You don’t want her to be one,” I said, careful not to let myself feel too much.
“Doyou, Heiress?” Jameson asked suddenly, his eyes searching mine. “Do you want her to be a threat? Because Gray’s right. The message wasn’t ‘Don’t trust her.’”
