CHAPTER 25
New York
Lux pushed open the door to the penthouse, the darkness from the wide glass panels seeming to swallow her whole. The city outside still blazed with light, but inside Lux's mind, everything was spinning.
She dropped her handbag onto the chair, shrugged off her leather jacket and draped it over the armrest, then stood motionless in the living room for a long while. The chill of the air conditioner pressed the fine hairs on her neck against her skin, but nothing could dull the sting of betrayal.
"Alexine Vause." The name slid through Lux's mind like a dull blade—not enough to kill, but enough to cut, slowly, until the blood seeped out.
She remembered the months in prison. Remembered how "Alexine" spoke—slow, calm, as if everything had been calculated in advance. Remembered the riot, when "Alexine" threw herself into helping Penelope, only to end up wounded. Remembered the "family drama" that day, with the perfect "step sister" walking in like a character from a romantic French play.
Now it was all crumbling. That woman might not know much, but even a single piece of information was enough for Lux to piece together a troubling picture: "Alexine" wasn't real, the "step sister" was an act, and most likely... the two of them were lovers.
Lux let out a dry laugh, but in her eyes, jealousy and curiosity twisted into something toxic. "So then... who are you really, Alexine?"
She poured herself a glass of red wine, tilted her head back, and drank it all. She knew she wouldn't sleep tonight. In her mind, fragmented details began to string together—but the more she pieced them, the more tangled the picture became.
Switzerland
The kitchen of the mountain lodge was filled with the tangy scent of tomatoes and oregano. But instead of the elegant Italian aroma Viv had hoped for, the pot on the stove held a thick red sauce that... could've been spaghetti sauce or a failed tomato soup.
Viv leaned against the counter, looking perfectly proud of her creation, while Daph stood with arms crossed, eyes narrowed.
"Sweetheart... if I called this carbonara, I think the entire country of Italy would sue me."
Viv just shrugged, her face saying, "So what?" But in reality, she was kicked out of the kitchen three minutes later with a firm ban: "Don't come near this place until I'm done."
So Viv retreated to the living room, flopping onto the sofa beside Duke Pudding, the black cat curled up asleep. She gently stroked its silky fur, listening to the crackle from the kitchen and breathing in the growing aroma.
When Daph brought lunch to the table—perfectly creamy pasta with fresh salad—she added a "punishment" on top:
"If you want to make it up to me, bake me a Baumkuchen. Not cookies, not pound cake. Baumkuchen. I want every layer to be as beautiful as tree rings."
Viv looked up, her gaze a mix of challenge and affection, as if she'd just been handed a secret mission more serious than any real operation.
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