Chapter 245: A Problem with Goodnight
"Good night."
Liora said it with a smile, then got into the sleek black car waiting at the curb.
Elias watched until the taillights disappeared beyond the end of the block. The car looked absurd against the worn houses, cracked sidewalks, and faded storefronts around it. It belonged to another version of the city, one with private elevators, chauffeured rides, and women who could hand someone a black card because they liked the sound he made in their ear.
The moment the car was gone, Elias crouched by the curb.
He looked miserable.
A shallow puddle beside his shoe caught a blurred reflection of his face. He leaned closer, studying it through the darkness.
Was he not pretty enough?
Was he losing his touch?
Neither answer made sense.
He had bought the box. He had timed the encounter. He had invited Liora upstairs, let her kiss him, begged sweetly, threatened her, called her names, and even humiliated himself for money in the middle of the street.
The expected conclusion had been obvious.
They were supposed to go upstairs, wear themselves out, collapse onto the bed, and wake later with the route finished.
Instead, Liora had looked at him and said no.
No.
Elias stared at his reflection.
"Is it really because she knows what happens once her favorability hits one hundred?" he asked.
[System Theta: That is my current conclusion.]
Elias nodded slowly. "It can only be that."
Then he shoved both hands into his hair and pulled.
"This is cheating!"
System Theta startled.
[System Theta: Host?]
"Liora has to be cheating," Elias said, outraged. "She saw through things before anyone else. She was the first one to understand there was something wrong with the way I treated people. She started out watching the chaos for fun, then somehow turned into an accomplice."
He let go of his hair and glared at the street.
The first time Liora had shown up, she had been outside the story. A spectator. Someone amused by Serena’s mess and Elias’s performance. Yet she had gradually become the woman most willing to follow the logic beneath his actions. She understood that he performed. She understood that he lied. She understood that his sweetness had an angle.
And worse, she seemed to understand the angle behind the angle.
Elias had found himself unable to be as ruthless with her as he should have been. He gave her little rewards. A kiss for behaving. Private jokes. The occasional moment of honesty disguised as a lie. She had earned benefits no mission target was supposed to receive.
That was because he was kindhearted.
Not because he was becoming soft.
Absolutely not.
He folded his arms.
"Seeing through the relationship is one thing. Liora has experience with women, so fine. That at least fits her profile. But seeing through the way I treat her? How is that fair?"
He thought of Serena next.
"Serena has a cheat too. Her negotiation skills can almost talk people into believing nonsense."
Elias had seen it in the garage. Serena could take coercion, calculated manipulation, and a manufactured crisis, then arrange the words until her actions nearly resembled care. For a few seconds, even he had thought her explanation sounded plausible.
That was dangerous.
Then there was Yvonne.
Elias snorted.
"Dr. Quinn is worse. That woman practically has a supernatural ability. How many people can hypnotize someone with a few words and a calm voice?"
[System Theta: Her abilities are within the setting’s established medical-thriller range.]
"Within the setting my ass."
Elias continued counting.
"Giselle’s cheat is fighting. She looks like the youngest, least threatening girl in the room, then Serena gets knocked flat twice. What happens when all four of them are involved? Is Giselle supposed to beat up every woman who annoys her?"
The thought did not improve his mood.
Then there was Seraphina Hale.
Elias had not even met her yet.
He felt a small chill run through him.
What was Sera’s cheat supposed to be? She was an actress. Would she look at him once and instantly know every expression he made was fake? Would his carefully staged tears, his trembling voice, his injured little-boy act, all be useless the moment she saw him?
Elias shuddered.
"The Bureau really does not want me to retire."
[System Theta: It appears the Trash Trope Intervention Division has invested significant effort into preventing your retirement.]
Elias gave a cold laugh.
"Fine. When I retire, whoever approved these settings can wait for me."
System Theta went quiet.
It had stepped on another land mine.
[System Theta: ...]
Elias sighed and stood.
The physical cash Liora had given him was still in his pocket. Carrying that much around on a dark street was inefficient, and he did not trust the old house enough to leave it under a mattress. So he headed toward a nearby ATM inside a twenty-four-hour bank vestibule and deposited the bills.
The machine accepted the cash with quiet electronic beeps.
Elias watched the balance update.
Much better.
Numbers in an account had their own comfort. They were cleaner than wrinkled bills, easier to hide, and much harder for Marlene to steal out of a pocket.
When he stepped back outside, the city had grown quieter. A row of late-night food carts had gathered near the corner, their lights warm against the dark. Elias decided he deserved a reward. Something cheap and satisfying. Maybe fried skewers, maybe a loaded grilled wrap, maybe noodles if the broth smelled good.
He had barely opened his phone to search nearby options when it rang.
Elias glanced at the caller ID.
Naomi Vale.
He went still.
Then he smiled without warmth.
"Let’s see which good daughter misses her father’s embrace."
The smile disappeared as soon as he saw the name.
Naomi.
Not close.
[System Theta: But Naomi Vale transferred you five hundred thousand dollars.]
"That subscription has expired," Elias replied. "If she wants to remain friends, she can renew it."
[System Theta: You are calling her a subscription service.]
"I am calling her someone who transferred five hundred thousand dollars."
He declined the call.
Then he headed toward the food carts.
His phone buzzed again.
Elias declined it again.
The third call came before he had reached the first vendor.
This time, he answered.
"What?"
The greeting was not friendly.
His mood had been interrupted, and Naomi had better be prepared to compensate him for the damage.
"Where are you?"
The voice on the other end was not Naomi’s.
It was Sloane Sinclair.
She sounded frantic.
Elias looked up at the sky.
He did not see anything falling.
Still, he had already guessed the problem.
Giselle.
His tone changed at once. A thread of nervousness entered it, carefully measured. "What happened?"
"Explain something. No, wait, forget that. Get over here."
A violent crash erupted through the call.
Elias jerked the phone away from his ear.
That had not sounded like someone knocking over a chair. Something heavy had hit something else with enough force to shake the room.
Then Sloane shouted, "Giselle, are you insane? Naomi, stop talking before you make it worse!"
Naomi’s voice cut through in the background, furious and loud.
"Stop talking about my family! I slept with Elias. So what? I don’t think Giselle has the nerve to do anything to me!"
"You’re asking for it!" Giselle shouted.
Sloane swore.
"Both of you, stop!"
Elias stared at the phone.
Slept with him?
Naomi had touched exactly nothing.
Not one finger.
The audacity of that woman.
[System Theta: Host, please stop focusing on the wording. It sounds like someone may be seriously injured.]
Elias’s face remained calm.
His voice, however, gained another note of panic.
"Are they fighting?"
"Yes!" Sloane yelled. The sound around her was chaos, furniture scraping, something smashing, at least one person cursing loudly enough that the phone distorted. "You need to explain this. Who was the woman you slept with?"
Sloane stopped abruptly.
Apparently, she had realized the question could make Giselle even angrier.
Elias smiled to himself.
So that was it.
Giselle had believed his performance in the garage more deeply than he expected. She had heard him say he was with another woman after Serena threw him out. Somehow Naomi had put herself in the center of that story, and now the silver-haired girl had decided to make the issue physical.
Naomi was not even a mission target.
Yet she was fighting over him anyway.
Elias’s charm truly had nowhere to go.
"Fine," he said softly. "Give them the phone."
Sloane looked at the two women tangled in what sounded like an increasingly destructive fight and nearly laughed from despair.
"How am I supposed to give them the phone?"
"Put me on speaker," Elias said. "Tell them to listen. I’ll explain loudly."
"Okay. Say it loud."
A second passed.
Then Sloane shouted in the background, "Stop fighting! Both of you listen to Elias!"
Neither woman listened.
Elias spoke into the phone.
His voice was low, soft, and almost delicate.
"Hey... can you both hear me?"
Sloane looked down at the screen.
Then she raised the phone again, baffled.
"Brother, you call that loud?"
"I am talking loudly," Elias said, sounding deeply wronged.
Sloane felt her blood pressure rise.
"Get here now," she shouted. "If you’re late, you can collect their bodies!"
Elias smiled silently.
Sloane’s family might need the body bags more than anyone.
If Giselle Frost and Naomi Vale were actually hurt, the Frost and Vale families would not accept excuses. The Sinclair family would be the first thing crushed beneath the fallout.
Elias kept his tone soft.
"Keep them apart a little longer. I’ll be there soon."
Sloane went quiet for one exhausted second.
Then she said, "I am begging you."