CHAPTER 264: BRANDON’S WARNING

The Diamond Room at Bellmare was all sleek geometry and hushed affluence. Brushed brass fixtures, velvet banquettes, and shadows deep enough to drown in. It was the kind of place that never printed menus, where negotiations weren’t spoken so much as performed through posture and silence.

Levi Van Doren arrived precisely on time.

His tailored overcoat was swept from his shoulders the moment he stepped through the doors, revealing a charcoal suit cut with surgical precision. His presence did not demand attention, it commanded it. As always, his expression was unreadable, cold as the wind that had chased him into the building.

"Mr. Van Doren," said the maître d’, bowing slightly. "Ms. Keane is waiting for you. This way please."

The woman in question Eleanor Keane, principal strategist for Nyros Technologies, was seated near the back, perfectly composed in a dove-gray dress and dark-rimmed glasses. She stood as he approached, offering a gloved hand.

"Levi," she said, smiling. "Always a pleasure."

"Eleanor." He shook her hand with the faintest smile. "Apologies for the venue. I prefer my negotiations where the walls don’t listen."

She gave a dry chuckle. "That’s why I like you. You lie less than most."

They sat, and the conversation began. Measured, precise, laced with quiet confidence and not-so-subtle threats of what would happen if Nyros didn’t comply with Van Doren Holdings’ acquisition clauses. Levi was a chess player, and his words were pawns, sacrificed without hesitation when it brought him closer to checkmate.

Halfway through a bottle of Petrus and a finely veiled threat about patent violations, something shifted in the air.

He noticed it before he saw it.

A scent first, Killian’s Intoxicated ghosted past his awareness. Then a laugh. Feminine, soft, cut with champagne and cruelty.

Levi’s hand froze just slightly over his glass.

He turned his head, slow and precise, like a wolf scenting prey. Across the room, beneath a halo of chandelier light, Lyse was seated at a table for two.

Next to her, laughing, touching her hand as if he owned it, sat Brendan.

Levi’s exhale was nearly imperceptible, but Eleanor caught it.

She glanced over her shoulder.

Levi’s gaze had locked on Lyse, on the curve of her smile which was no longer aimed at him. The way her fingers brushed the stem of her flute, the tilt of her head toward Brendan.

She looked... radiant, happy.

She also looked like she belonged to someone else.

"Is everything alright?" Eleanor asked, voice dipped in curiosity.

Levi turned back to her, the shift in his focus a little too delayed. "Fine."

But he wasn’t. He wasn’t fine, and even as Eleanor launched into discussion about deliverables and timeline guarantees, he couldn’t tear his mind from the tight clench forming in his chest.

She had really moved on without him.

Not just moved on, betrayed.

And now she laughed in public with the man he had warned her about, the man who had broken her heart.

He turned his attention back to the wine, but it was no use. The burn in his throat wasn’t from alcohol.

"I’ll need two weeks to review the updated merger packet," he said abruptly.

Eleanor blinked. "I thought—"

"Two weeks. I’ll have my team contact yours." He stood, pulling a card from his breast pocket and placing it beside her napkin with surgical finality. "Thank you for dinner."

Before she could respond, he was already walking away, every step measured but rapid. Very much like a man fighting the leash around his instincts.

He reached Lyse and Brendan’s table just as the dessert was being set down, some ridiculous confection shaped like a frozen swan.

Brendan looked up first. His easy grin faltered.

"Well, if it isn’t the ghost of husbands past," he said, dry but uneasy.

Levi noted painfully that Lyse’s smile disappeared completely.

She stared at him as if seeing something she wasn’t ready for. Her hands stilled. Her spine straightened.

"Levi," she said cautiously. "What are you doing here?"

Levi didn’t look at Brendan. Not once. His eyes were fixed solely on Lyse, and when he spoke, his voice was like the surface of a frozen lake; beautiful, contained, but capable of drowning anyone who stepped too far.

"We need to talk."

"There’s nothing to talk about," she said, tone clipped. "You’re interrupting—"

"Then un-interrupt yourself."

Brendan leaned forward. "You should go."

Levi turned his head slowly. His stare was not violent it was final.

"You," he said, "should shut your mouth."

Brendan’s jaw tightened. Lyse, alarmed, placed a hand on Brendan’s arm.

"Don’t," she said. "It’s fine."

She stood. Her heels clicked against the marble like a countdown.

"Come with me," Levi said.

"Don’t tell me what to do."

"You’re already coming," he replied.

He walked away, and after a second that stretched like a taut wire, she followed.

They stopped just inside the corridor near the bathrooms, lit in blue neon and shadow. The hum of muted jazz followed them from the dining room.

Lyse crossed her arms. "What do you want, Levi?"

His jaw worked, silent for a long moment.

"Do you love him?" he asked finally.

She blinked. "What?"

"Brendan. Do you love him?"

"That’s not your business anymore."

"It is," he said. "Everything about you is."

"No, Levi. That ended when you stopped being someone I recognized."

Something flickered in his expression, too fast to catch.

"You should be careful around people like him," Levi said. "They collect secrets like currency."

Lyse narrowed her eyes. "You mean like you?"

He said nothing.

"Anya died," she added. "Did you hear?"

"Yes."

"She was found in an alley. In pieces."

Levi didn’t move. But his hands were clasped tightly behind his back, so tightly the tendons stood out like cables.

"Why are you bringing that up?"

"I don’t know," she said, almost to herself. "Maybe because you have a history with her, maybe because i can’t help but wonder."

Levi’s voice dropped a note, almost too quiet. "If I wanted her gone, she would’ve vanished without headlines. And without a body."

Lyse flinched. "Jesus, Levi."

"That wasn’t a confession," he said. "It’s a reminder."

A pause. Then he added, "She was useful to someone. Until she wasn’t."

Lyse looked at him then, really looked at him, at the mask of civility, the veneer of control that always hovered like glass over a fire.

But behind that, tonight, something else trembled.

Grief?

Or guilt?

"Did you see her?" she asked.

Levi turned his head slowly toward her, eyes unreadable.

"Do you really think i killed her?"

She didn’t answer. She thought of Brandon’s warning.

They stood in silence.

Finally, Levi stepped back. The storm receded. The mask slid back into place.

"You should go back to your date."

Lyse hesitated.

"You look beautiful," he said.

She turned and walked away.

Outside, Levi lit a cigarette. He rarely smoked but tonight, it filled the space where rage used to sit.

As the ember glowed in the dark, his phone buzzed in his pocket.

A message from a number labeled only S.

"It’s done. The thread has been clipped. Stop digging."

Levi stared at it. Deleted it.

Then he murmured, almost absently, "No. Not clipped. Just tangled."

He tossed the cigarette into the bin and disappeared into the night