Whatever game was unfolding around her, Lucian was already somewhere inside it.
And tomorrow, she had a feeling he was going to be much harder to ignore.
That thought followed Allison up the sweeping staircase of the Morrison estate like a second shadow.
The mansion was too quiet tonight.
Not peaceful. Never peaceful.
It was the kind of quiet that only existed in wealthy houses where too many people were hiding too many things. The chandeliers glowed warmly overhead, polished marble reflecting soft gold light, every surface immaculate, every corner arranged to suggest taste, legacy, control.
A beautiful lie.
Allison moved through it in silence, the emerald clutch still in her hand, her heels whispering over the floor.
Tomorrow night, this place would be full of powerful people, expensive perfume, crystal glasses, and polite smiles sharpened into weapons.
Tomorrow night, she would tear the Morrison mask off in front of all of them.
But tonight—
Tonight she still had to survive the house.
She had just reached the landing when his voice cut through the hall.
"Where were you?"
Anthony.
Of course.
Allison stopped, then turned slowly.
He stood at the far end of the corridor just outside their suite, suit jacket gone, tie loosened, top button undone. To most people, it might have made him look tired. Relatable. The overworked golden heir burning himself out for the company.
All Allison saw now was a liar with good tailoring.
And tonight, for the first time, something else was visible in him too.
Nerves.
Not loud.
Not obvious.
But there.
That pleased her more than it should have.
"I was out," she said evenly.
Anthony's jaw tightened. "I can see that."
He stalked closer, all false control and simmering irritation. The closer he got, the more Allison could smell the expensive cologne she had once loved, the scent that had once made her soften when he came home late and offered her a tired smile and half a lie.
Now it made her stomach turn.
"You ignored my calls," he said.
"I was busy."
"With what?"
Allison tilted her head. "You seem very interested in my schedule for a man with a pregnant mistress."
His face went still.
For a second, they just stared at each other in the long, golden hallway.
Then Anthony looked quickly over his shoulder to make sure no one was near enough to hear.
When he turned back, his voice had dropped.
"So you do know."
Allison almost laughed.
The nerve of him.
No apology.
No shame.
Not even denial.
Just irritation that the secret had finally reached her.
"Yes," she said. "I know."
Anthony scrubbed a hand over his face. "Allison, lower your voice."
Her smile was small and vicious. "You don't get to tell me what volume to process betrayal in."
"This is not the place."
"No," she said softly. "That was your office."
His nostrils flared.
That one landed.
Good.
For one dangerous second, she saw something close to real anger flash through his eyes—not the polished executive annoyance he used at work, not the cool dismissal he used at home, but something uglier.
Something entitled.
"You don't understand the pressure I'm under right now," he said.
Allison blinked.
Then, because the absurdity of that statement deserved it, she gave a soft incredulous laugh.
"Pressure?"
Anthony stepped closer. "Yes, pressure. Tomorrow matters."
"So did my marriage."
His expression flickered.
There.
A crack.
But only a small one.
Anthony straightened and tried a different angle, slipping back into the tone he used when he wanted to manipulate her into compliance.
"Listen to me," he said, voice smoother now. "Whatever you think you know, whatever you're angry about, tomorrow is not the time to make this into some emotional scene."
Allison's eyes hardened.
Whatever you think you know.
He still thought he could control the narrative if he stayed ahead of it.
Still thought he could make her doubt herself with enough confidence.
Anthony continued, "We have major people coming. Important people. Investors. Partners. Families that could secure Morrison Empire for decades."
There was a beat.
Then he added, slower, as if making sure she fully grasped the scale of what was at stake:
"The head of the Croft family will be there."
Allison went very still.
Not visibly.
Not enough for him to notice.
But inside, something sharpened.
Anthony began pacing now, talking more to the air than to her, the way he did when he was obsessed with being listened to.
"And the head of the Caldwell family is attending too."
Caldwell.
The name slid into her thoughts and snagged there.
Close enough to what Lucian had said.
Close enough to the arranged marriage conversation.
Close enough to make instinct stir.
Anthony kept talking.
"Do you even understand what that means? Caldwell capital alone could stabilize the company for forty years. More than forty, if it's structured right. Their private investment arm doesn't back businesses unless they see long-term leverage. If tomorrow goes well—"
He stopped and looked at her.
Really looked.
And Allison saw it clearly then.
This wasn't just about ego.
This wasn't just about his precious image.
Anthony needed tomorrow.
Needed it desperately.
Needed the funding, the alliances, the appearance of control.
Interesting.
Very, very interesting.
Allison folded her arms lightly. "So that's why you're so tense."
Anthony frowned. "What?"
"You're afraid."
His face hardened instantly. "I'm being practical."
"No," Allison said, voice soft as silk. "You're afraid."
And once she said it, she could see it better.
The late nights.
The distracted temper.
The extra review meetings.
The way he'd been glued to financial reports all week.
Her mind, already sharpened by rage and strategy, began linking pieces together at speed.
Cash flow pressure.
Upcoming leadership transition.
Investor dependence.
A company image built almost entirely on confidence.
Anthony needed tomorrow to hold.
Maybe even to survive.
She felt something cold and elegant curl through her chest.
Perfect.
Anthony mistook her silence for surrender and stepped closer.
"Do not embarrass me tomorrow," he said. "I'm serious, Allison."
There it was.
Not don't embarrass us.
Not don't ruin the event.
Don't embarrass me.
Always him.
Always.