Leol, still calm, exhaled slowly. His eyes flicked to the rearview mirror, reading the movements of the black sedan behind them. It kept its distance, but every time they changed lanes, it followed.


    "How do you want to handle it?" Paul asked.


    Amala finally glanced up, locking eyes with Leol in the mirror.


    "Lose them," she said coldly.


    Leol gave a slight nod. Without breaking pace, he gradually adjusted his route, taking an unexpected turn down a narrower street. The sedan followed.


    "Persistent," Rohan muttered.


    Leol’s fingers flexed over the wheel, his focus sharpening. "Not for long."


    And then, without warning—he acted.


    A sudden sharp turn. A quick acceleration into a merging lane. The SUV weaved between cars with precision, never reckless, never drawing attention—just fast enough to confuse their pursuer.


    The sedan reacted a second too late.


    As Leol executed a calculated switch into an adjacent road, the black car found itself cut off by traffic.


    Paul smirked. "Lost them."


    Leol finally relaxed his grip, rolling his shoulders slightly. "They were sloppy."


    Alice studied him for a moment before turning her gaze out the window. "Remind me to give you a raise."


    Leol let out a small chuckle. "Just doing my job, ma’am."


    But even as the tension eased inside the SUV, Alice''s thoughts didn’t.


    Whoever had followed them wasn’t a random stalker.


    And she had a feeling this wouldn’t be the last time they tried.


    If they wanted to play games, she would play better.


    <u>The Private Suite – A Moment of Calm?</u>


    Her suite at the hotel was secluded, luxurious, yet eerily quiet.


    Alice stepped inside, pulling off the hoodie, shaking out her dark hair. She strode towards the floor-to-ceiling windows, the Paris skyline stretching endlessly before her.


    The golden glow of city lights blinked back at her.


    Her mind should have been at ease.


    It wasn’t.


    She walked toward the bar, pouring herself a glass of water, the ice clinking against the glass. A breath in. A breath out.


    Then—


    Her phone rang.


    Ajay.


    Of course.


    She picked up.


    Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the violation.


    "Why the hell am I watching you get swarmed at the airport when no one was supposed to know your flight?"


    His voice was controlled, but she could hear the underlying tension.


    Alice smirked, bringing the glass to her lips. "Oh, so you do keep track of my whereabouts."


    "Amala." His voice darkened. "Who leaked it?"


    She walked towards the window, staring at her reflection against the city backdrop.


    "I have a good guess."


    A pause.


    "Are you safe?"


    Her lips curled slightly. "I handled it."


    "That’s not what I asked."


    Her fingers tightened slightly around the glass.


    There it was. That rare, unspoken concern beneath his professional demeanor.


    "I’m fine, Ajay." She took a slow sip, letting the cold water ground her. "No need to fly over with a cavalry."


    Another pause. Then, a sigh.


    "Call me if anything happens."


    The call ended.


    She wouldn''t call.


    She never does.


    <u>The Studio – A Perfect Facade</u>


    The grand film studio in Paris was flawless.


    Alice walked in with silent poise, her sharp gaze scanning the space. The set was flawless. The crew moved with precision, the equipment gleamed under the overhead lights. Conversations dimmed slightly as eyes flicked toward her—an unspoken acknowledgment of her arrival.


    Everything was exactly as it should be.


    Too perfect.


    But she had been in the industry long enough to know—perfection was the greatest illusion.


    As they walked toward the main filming area, Mia stepped closer, lowering her voice.


    “I looked into the key people here,” she murmured. “Of course, you already know Mr. Lancaster—the director. He’s worked on multiple international films. Keeps things professional, but…” She hesitated, “He’s a bit too good at handling things. If there’s a scandal, it never touches him.”


    Alice nodded slightly. A man who knew how to stay clean.


    Mia continued. “The assistant director, David Moore, is harmless. Just wants the production to go smoothly. Most of the main crew are long-term employees, so loyalty runs deep here.”


    Alice kept her expression neutral.


    Mia hesitated for a second before adding, “And then there’s Felix Montgomery.”


    Alice glanced at her. “And what about him?”


    Mia exhaled. “Technically, he’s not part of the core production team. He oversees logistics—deals with high-profile arrivals, ensures VIP safety, and handles press issues.”


    Alice raised an eyebrow. “Sounds like a PR shield.”


    “Exactly.” Mia’s voice dropped even lower. “But the thing is… no one really knows much about him. He wasn’t always in the entertainment industry. Before this? Nothing. No public records, no connections, just appeared one day in the scene.”


    Alice stored that away.


    She’d met many people like that before.


    People who didn’t want to be known.


    And that made them the most interesting ones.


    Mia then quickly added, “Oh, and one more thing—he’s ridiculously charming. Women adore him. Even men seem to like him. But I don’t trust charming people.”


    Alice smirked. “Neither do I.”


    She continued forward, sharp and unreadable, unaware—or simply unbothered—by the watchful gaze tracking her every step.


    She approached Mr. Lancaster, the director.


    "Miss Rains," he greeted smoothly. "Welcome to Paris."


    "Pleasure to be here," she replied with a polite nod.


    Small talk followed—schedules, set designs, filming sequences.


    Everything was on track.


    And yet, the unease settled in her bones.


    Then—


    A new presence entered the conversation.


    Alice turned.


    A man approached, posture relaxed yet deliberate, his features sharp, his expression light.


    Felix Montgomery.


    He was dressed neatly, his white shirt crisp, sleeves folded just enough to seem casual but polished.


    There was something about the way he carried himself—not hesitant, but careful.


    He stopped a few steps away, offering a polite nod.


    "Miss Rains. I must apologize for the airport situation."


    His voice was smooth, effortlessly sincere.


    Alice studied him.


    "Felix?"


    A small chuckle. "That’s right." His expression remained light, unreadable.


    "Felix" she mused, "That means ‘luck,’ doesn’t it?"


    He smirked, "I suppose I''m just lucky for you to know me".


    A simple statement.


    A normal moment.


    Yet, the air between them shifted ever so slightly.


    Alice stored the thought away. For now.


    ---


    Evening set in, casting long shadows across the studio.


    Alice was finishing up a scene when she caught sight of a young model.


    The girl was exhausted.


    Her face was pale, her steps unsteady.


    Alice’s sharp eyes tracked her movements just in time to see her stumble.


    Without hesitation, she moved.


    Her hand shot out, steadying the girl before she could fall.


    "You okay?" Alice asked, voice even.


    The model looked up, dark circles prominent under her eyes.


    Then—for just a second—


    Her expression changed.


    Fear.


    Alice caught it instantly. Her grip tightened slightly. "What’s wrong?"


    The girl’s gaze flickered past Alice, hands trembling.


    Alice followed her line of sight—