"It''s a wild theory, I know."
Giselle hadn''t said a word for a long time, so Forrest pressed on. "But I''ve mulled it over and over, retraced every step. As imusible as it sounds, I can''t find another exnation. And the thing is, I actually know that man-well enough, at least. When the news first broke, I was stunned."
Stunned wasn''t even the half of it.
He''d known the man for years-his sworn enemy, truth be told-and when word came he was dead, there was satisfaction, yes, but mostly confusion and disbelief.
Was he really the sort to die so easily?
But then came the funeral, M''s grief and trauma, the chaos that rocked Montgomery Holdings, and the chain reaction in the aftermath—all of it pointed to the same truth: the man was really gone.
If it was all a lie, would he really have let Forrest suffer those losses, wager his entire fortune just to keep up the charade?
What was the point?
Still, too many thingstely didn''t add up. Forrest couldn''t shake the strange suspicion gnawing at him. He started digging, found nothing concrete... but it was exactly those vague, inconclusive details that made him doubt all the more.
Something was definitely off.
Naturally, his thoughts turned to Giselle.
She''d been acting strange, too. If his hunch was right, then suddenly Giselle''s baffling motives and behavior made sense.
That''s why he''d insisted on meeting her today.
He wasn''t worried about being too blunt. After all, it was Giselle who needed something from him, and that put the power squarely in his hands.
Sure enough,
Giselle only stared at him in silence, her usually perfect smile fading, reced by a cold detachment. The warmth in her dark eyes had frozen over; the way she looked at him now-this was the real Giselle.
Forrest said nothing, just took a sip of his coffee and waited. He already had his answer.
"What do you want?"
Atst, Giselle spoke, making no attempt to deny it.
Forrest smiled, set down his coffee cup, and extended his hand. "Ms. Harvey, I think we might have grounds for a partnership."
"Why?" She didn''t take his hand.
"The reason''s obvious," Forrest replied, lips curled in a knowing smile. "You get what you want. I get what I want. Fair and square."
"Aren''t you worried I''ll go after M?" she shot back.
"You''re too smart for that."
She gave a short, bitterugh. "Maybe. But I''m starting to regret this. You''re as dangerous as he is." Just as frightening—and, against her better judgment, just aspelling.
She reached out and shook his hand. “Let''s work together."
Giselle loved a gamble.
And she always bet on herself to win.
She had no other choice.
With Lysander''s unpredictable moves and M''s relentless caution running thepany, Giselle had been driven into a corner. There was no retreat, not now. Every opportunity had to be seized, or she wouldn''t survive the fallout.
Could Forrest double-cross her?
She didn''t trust him-not really.
But right now, she had no choice but to pretend she did.
If the day ever came that Forrest betrayed her, sabotaging this alliance, she''d
make sure he and M paid dearly for it.
If she went down, she''d take everyone with her.
Finally, the thing she''d feared for so long was out in the open. Giselle forced down her swirling thoughts, finalized the partnership and staffing arrangements with Forrest, and then took her leave.
Forrest stayed behind.
He watched her disappear down the stairs, his expression unreadable. When his coffee was finally gone, as if something had clicked into ce, he reached for his phone and made a call.
...
Upstairs, in her bedroom,
M sat on her bed, silent after Forrest finished speaking. The line was quiet; he didn''t rush her.
A heavy silence filled the room.
M couldn''t quite name what she felt.
A strange, unexpected calm.
All that time she''d been gued by suspicion, by fear and anxiety, unable to sleep
or find peace, living in a constant haze.
But now, with the truth finally out, she felt eerilyposed-so much so that it surprised her.
Mostly, she felt confusion.
And a rising tide of anger at being tricked.
After a long pause, she let out a low, tired sigh. Her voice was hoarse when she finally spoke. "Thank you, Forrest. Thank you for telling me."
"You don''t sound so great. Want me toe over?" Forrest''s voice was gentle.
"No." She answered immediately, then added, "Not tonight. And let''s just pretend you never told me any of this."
"All right, I understand." Forrest''s tone was warm. "So, what will you do now? Whatever it is, I''m here. Don''t be afraid."
"...Okay."
She had to admit, his steady, reassuring voice did soothe some of the turmoil
inside her. The panic subsided a little.
But panic never solved anything.
She''d learned that lesson long ago.
When troublees, deal with it. There''s no other way.
She talked with Forrest a little longer, but exhaustion soon caught up with her.
After hanging up, she received a message from her hacker friend.
Nothing. Everything checked out as "normal."
But at a time like this, "normal" was the most suspicious thing of all. M''sst shred of doubt
evaporated. She sat motionless on the edge of her bed, face nk, mind racing with one thought.
Why?
Looking back, it all made sense now-the strange feeling at the funeral, the absence of her family, the cold blood on her hands... All those details she''d brushed aside suddenly stood out in sharp relief, and with them came a wave of fury.
Everyone knew-except her?
Was this all just a joke to them?
Lysander-or maybe the whole Montgomery family-had they ever spoken a
single true word to her?
She had the sudden urge to call Conrad and Leonard and demand answers. Those two, at least, definitely knew-and so did the old man.
Was she really the only one in the dark?
No wonder they never seemed that upset. She''d thought it was just their coldness, their distance-after all, they''d never seemed that close, Over the past year, they''d all carefully avoided the topic, probably afraid she''d see through the lie.
What a farce.