I glance at Hugo.
He only shrugs, eyes focused straight ahead.
Tamping down impatience, I reach for the handle and turn.
Unlocked.
We slip inside to a murmur of voices coming from the direction of Liam’s office. A short trip down the hall, and they grow louder, filtering through the door left ajar.
Hugo says nothing as I blatantly eavesdrop.
“I’ve made myself invaluable to Jerome. I’ve got the files you need.”
That’s Oliver.
Panic grabs me until Jerome’s name sinks in, because this isn’t about the auction.
Landon’s keeping his word, dismantling the man who hurt Elise, piece by piece. After everything she’s survived, she’s finally getting justice.
Then Oliver speaks again, and the hope drains out of me.
“And if you want my voteandmy help, then I want this.” A pause that seems to drag on endlessly, and then, “I understand your feelings for the queen, Chancellor, but Landon’s already agreed.”
The more they say, the more the floor tilts under me. They’re discussing the plan to rig the auction…
And Oliver knows.
They brought him in.
The plan Landon swore he’d keep buried, handed over without a second thought. If only he had come to me first, I could have told?—
I wouldn’t have told Landon a damn thing.
Sebastian trusts me. His lifedependson me staying quiet about this, even though my instincts want me to scream the truth into that room.
Sebastian’s alive, and I’m marrying him!
But here I am, forced into another corner, hands tied.
My hands are tired of being tied.
I barge in, door banging against the wall to announce my arrival. Two brown gazes and my brother’s green stare back at me.
“And what is it,exactly, that Oliver wants?” Planting my hands on my hips, I scowl at all three of them before zeroing in on the man in question. “Someone better start talking.”
10
After ten months in this tower, I’ve learned to read a loaded silence like a second language. Leaving Hugo standing near the door, looking as if he’d rather be anywhere else, I face down the rest of them as toxic energy buzzes between us. Despite my demand for an explanation, no one offers one. It would be a moot point anyway, because the guilt on their faces is answer enough.
There’s no hiding the fact that they were in here, decidingmyfuture without stopping once to consider that I might want a say. That I shouldhavea say.
And that stokes my anger hotter than any explanation could.
“Funny,” I snap, arms crossed, “a second ago, you all hadsomuch to talk about.”
“Calm down.” Landon raises a conciliatory hand. “If you’ll just listen?—”
“You told him, didn’t you?” I jab a finger toward Oliver, who looms in front of the window like a well-dressed silhouette.