I rise from my seat, suddenly eager to be done with this conversation, with this place. Harrison watches me for a long moment, then pulls open his desk drawer. He extracts a business card and scribbles something on the back before extending it to me.
“My private number,” he says gruffly as I take it. “If you’re ever in trouble, if you ever need help... call me. Day or night.”
The unexpected gesture of concern catches me off guard. I tuck the card into my pocket, touched despite myself.
“Thank you, Harrison.”
He nods once, a dismissal that somehow conveys a grudging respect. “For what it’s worth, you could have been one of the greats. Different circumstances, different choices...” He shrugs. “But we all make our own bed.”
“And I’ll lie in mine,” I finish for him, a small smile playing at my lips.
“With the devil himself,” Harrison adds, but there’s less venom in his tone now, more resignation.
I turn to leave, but his voice stops me at the door.
“Lea.” When I look back, his expression is solemn. “Be careful. The world you’re stepping into... it changes people. Usually not for the better.”
“I know,” I reply softly. “But sometimes change is necessary.”
With that, I walk out of Harrison Wells’s office for the last time, closing the door on my brief career as an investigative journalist. The newsroom noise swells around me as I make my way between the desks, avoiding eye contact with curious colleagues. I feel oddly light, as if I’ve set down a heavy burden I didn’t realize I was carrying.
Sienna is waiting by the exit, exactly as promised. Her sharp eyes take in my expression.
“That bad, huh?”
“Could have been worse,” I admit. “No shouting, no throwing things.”
“Just crushing disappointment and dire warnings about your future?”
I laugh despite myself. “Something like that.”
Sienna hooks her arm through mine. “Come on. You owe me at least three drinks and the unabridged version of whatever the hell has been happening with you.”
“Make it four drinks,” I counter. “This story requires alcohol. Lots of it.”
The bar Siennachooses is a journalist hangout two blocks from the office—dark wood, sticky tables, and drinks strong enough to make you forget the day. We claim a booth in the back corner.
“Spill,” Sienna demands the moment our drinks arrive. “And leave nothing out. I’ve read the official reports. I know your mother and Isabel Vega were arrested in a bust. I know Moretti is officially ‘missing and presumed dead.’ But the reports don’t say howyouended up in the middle of it all. And what was with that cryptic text you sent me? The ‘blink twice if you’re in trouble’ thing? Some dark joke about your deadline?”
I stare at her, the memory of that moment—hunched in a bathroom, outsmarting a camera, sending a desperate, last-ditch plea for help—coming back in a rush. “Sienna... I wasn’t joking. I was held captive.”
The humor vanishes from her face, replaced by dawning horror. “Oh my god. You were serious? I just figured it was, like, ‘blink twice if he won’t let you choose the restaurant.’ Lea, I’m so sorry! I had no idea.”
I manage a small, wry laugh. It feels strange, laughing about it now. “It’s okay. In retrospect, it was a pretty terrible plan.” I take a long sip of my whiskey sour. “The real story is... more complicated.”
And I tell her the parts the world will never know. Not the public facts, but the personal truths—my mother’s betrayal, her murder of my father, and her manipulation of my entire life. I tell her about being caught between them all, about the final, terrible confrontation in the art gallery. I omit certain details—the violence I took part in, the darker edges of my relationship with Nico—but I give her enough to understand.
Throughout my account, Sienna just stares, her drink forgotten in her hand. By the time I finish, the light outside has faded, and we’re on our third round.
“Jesus Christ, Lea,” she breathes when I finally fall silent. “Your mother? A North Korean spy? And she killed your dad?” She shakes her head. “It’s like something out of a movie.”
“I know. I still have moments where I can’t believe it’s real.”
“And Varela? He knew all this?”
“He suspected she was involved in something,” I nod. “He was using me to get to her.”
Sienna leans back, studying me. “And now you’re in love with him? After everything?”
