Sterling stepped out of the ballroom and into the courtyard, the night air biting against his skin. For fuck's sake—another lavish party? Lolita's birthday had barely passed, and now they were blowing fifty million on Intermarium's national day. Recognized as a country, sure. But recognized doesn't mean rich.
The glass door slammed behind him. Sterling turned to see Artemis striding down the cobblestone path, black suit sharp against the moonlight.
"I've gotten a pay cut," Sterling said bitterly.
"What? Why?" Artemis tilted his head.
"Because Lolita promoted Axel. He's slacking off and taking credit for my work."
Artemis frowned. "It took you years to land this job."
"Exactly. Axel came out of nowhere and got hired overnight."
"You think she's sleeping with him?"
Sterling scoffed. "What else explains it? No experience. No credentials. Just charm and proximity."
Artemis hesitated. "I'm more worried about Maxwell."
Sterling nodded. "That's the problem. Axel's allergic to work, and Maxwell was best friends with Ethan. There's resentment brewing."
"Maxwell's always on top of his paperwork."
"Which makes him a target. Ethan nearly became ruler, and that history doesn't just fade. Axel's rise isn't just suspicious—it's strategic."
Artemis turned toward the door. "You've been injured, Sterling—weeks in the hospital, stitched up and sedated. Maybe you're just seeing shadows where there aren't any."
Sterling bit his lip, watching Artemis vanish into the ballroom's glow. Too blind to see the worst in people, he thought. And that's how the worst gets in.