She ran out to the balcony and looked down, but by then, the man was already gone.

Well, I guess I''ll just have to return it to him next time, she thought.

Not the worst thing, really—a good excuse to keep in touch.

That night, after running Sebastian''s clothes through the wash, Citrine quietly hung them up to dry on the balcony outside her own bedroom.

Only then did she finally feel at ease and drift off to sleep.

She slept soundly, but while her night was peaceful, things were far from calm over at Siren''s Whisper.

The two thugs who''d gotten into a brawl with her at the karaoke bar-along with their boss—had been ambushed, thrown into the back of a van, and dragged off to an abandoned factory by a rival group. By the time they staggered back, they were barely alive.

This whole thing had been set in motion by the manager after consulting with Raymond. Citrine knew nothing about it.

The next morning, Citrine had barely reached the ssroom door when Jete and Clifford blocked her path.

"Citrine, can youe outside with us for a moment?" Jete nced

nervously over her shoulder at the people in the hallway.

Seriously? Bad news first thing in the morning?

Citrine didn''t even hesitate. "Nope, I need a nap," she said tly.

She didn''t spare them a single nce, just brushed past and headed straight into her ssroom.

"That girl''s getting way too full of herself," Clifford muttered, fuming. He started to storm into Citrine''s ssroom.

"Let it go, Clifford. She clearly doesn''t want to see us," Jete hissed, grabbing his arm to pull him back before he could make things worse. She was all too aware that angering Citrine could ruin her own ns.

For once, Citrine enjoyed a quiet morning and thought she''d finally have some peace—at least for today. But right after lunch, Jete turned up again at her ssroom door.

This time, she was alone.

"Can we talk?" Jete approached Citrine''s desk. Most of the students hadn''t returned yet, so the ssroom was almost empty. Jete slid into the seat across from her.

Maybe because Clifford wasn''t around, Jete had dropped her usual fragile act. Her voice was even, her eyes clear-no more theatrics.

So she''s finally dropped the act, huh, Citrine thought, studying her with a newfound curiosity.

"What do you want to talk about?"

"I want to talk about the Iverson family shares." Jete''s gaze was steady, brimming with confidence.

"The Iverson family shares?" Citrine''s brow furrowed.

Jete went on, "Dad gave me twenty-five percent of The Iverson Group. The contract goes into effect when I turn eighteen." Her tone was proud, almost triumphant, as if she finally had the upper hand.

And it was Sawyer who''d given her that confidence.

Citrine blinked, startled. She had never known about this. Somewhere along the line, Sawyer had started keeping her out ofpany matters-she''d been left in the dark.

But she did know that Sawyer only owned fifty percent of thepany''s shares. He''d already given five percent each to Aline and Clifford, leaving himself with just thirty-five percent.

It had never urred to Citrine that Sawyer would hand over a quarter of thepany to Jete. That could only mean he intended for Jete to inherit the Iverson legacy.

No matter how disillusioned Citrine was with Sawyer, learning he''d secretly transferred twenty-five percent to Jete still stung.

She was, after all, an outsider.

Even though Citrine had never wanted topete with Jete, Sawyer had still chosen to keep her at arm''s length.

"Interested?" Jete''s eyes glittered.

Citrine regarded her nkly. "Why would the Iverson shares have anything to do with me?"

Jete leaned forward, deliberate. "I''m willing to give you five percent."

Citrine''s lips curled into a sudden smile. "And what''s the catch?"

"Just clear things up online. Defend me—and the Iverson family." Jete met her gaze, unwavering.