Anastasia didn't sleep, as the photographs lay in a messy fan on the bed beside her, their glossy surfaces catching the dim light from the lamp.
Every time she closed her eyes, Mason's smile in that picture came back to her. It wasn't a friendly smile. It was calculated—like Nicholas's.
She pressed her palms into her eyes.
'No. He risked himself for me. He warned me about Nicholas. That's not something a traitor would do… unless it was all part of a bigger game.'
Her phone screen lit up again. No number. Just a single message:
'You have until tomorrow night to decide where you stand or you might end up not having any choices.'
She typed back before she could think: "And if I don't decide?"
The reply came fast. "Then someone will decide for you."
A knock at her door made her flinch. "Ma'am? It's Bennie," came the gentle voice.
Anastasia took a steadying breath before unlocking the door. The nanny stepped inside, holding a tray with tea and biscuits.
