Velvet didn't sleep the night after the photograph arrived. The image of the hollow-eyed girl burned into her thoughts, looping endlessly until it became more than a threat—it became a question she could not silence.
By dawn, her studio glowed with the pale light of monitors, the screens filled with a swirl of news articles, social feeds, and private messages. Every headline repeated the same phrases: cult, obsession, danger. Her name had become inseparable from controversy, a symbol of fascination and fear in equal measure.
Adrian entered quietly, carrying two cups of coffee. He set one by her side without a word. The shadows under his eyes revealed that he hadn't slept either.
"You can't keep reading those," he said softly, nodding at the scrolling feeds.
Velvet's fingers hovered above her keyboard, but she didn't type. "If I turn away, I'll miss the blade aimed at me. Kane is clever. He doesn't strike where you expect—he poisons perception. By the time you notice, the wound is already festering."
Adrian studied her, conflicted. "And what if the poison comes from someone closer than you think?"
The words were simple, but their weight landed like stone. Velvet turned her head sharply. "What do you mean?"
Adrian hesitated, then slid another tablet across the desk. The screen displayed a series of encrypted messages, intercepted by his contacts. At first, the text was nonsense—jumbled letters, broken codes—but Adrian had already decrypted enough to show fragments.
She's vulnerable now.
Push harder. She'll crack.
Inside access confirmed.
Velvet's pulse spiked. "Inside access?" Her voice was sharp, clipped.
Adrian's jaw clenched. "There's a leak. Someone close to you is feeding Kane information. Details only an insider could know."
The silence that followed was suffocating. Velvet's mind flashed through faces—assistants, collaborators, moderators, even fans she had once invited into her circle. Trust, once her foundation, now felt fragile as glass.
"Who?" she demanded.
Adrian shook his head. "Not yet clear. But the style suggests someone who understands your schedule, your vulnerabilities, even your personal doubts. It's not just data—it's psychological detail. Kane knows too much about what rattles you."
Velvet rose, pacing the length of the studio. Every movement was sharp, as if she could cut through betrayal with sheer will. "So it's not enough for him to corrupt my followers. He wants to corrupt my faith in those closest to me."
Her reflection caught in the dark monitor, and for the first time, she almost didn't recognize the eyes staring back—harder, sharper, more desperate.
---
Later that evening, Velvet arranged a small, private meeting with her inner circle: the moderators, assistants, and a handful of trusted collaborators who had helped build her empire from the start. They gathered in the dimly lit studio, each face flickering in the glow of the screens.
"I've called you here," she began, her tone calm but laced with steel, "because there's a traitor among us."
The words landed like thunder. Whispers rippled through the group, fear mingled with offense. One of the moderators, a wiry man named Jonas, protested immediately. "Velvet, you can't mean us. We've stood by you since the beginning."
Velvet's gaze swept over them, unflinching. "Then prove it. Kane knows things he shouldn't. Someone is feeding him my weaknesses. If you're innocent, you'll have nothing to fear."
The room thickened with tension. Adrian stood nearby, silent but watchful, ready to read every twitch and shift.
Velvet continued, lowering her voice to a dangerous softness. "Understand this: loyalty is not about words in the chat or applause during a stream. Loyalty is tested when shadows press in. And if Kane thinks he can fracture us from within, he underestimates me."
For a long moment, silence reigned. Then one of the assistants, a young woman named Maren, lowered her eyes. Her hands trembled slightly as she clutched her phone.
Velvet's eyes narrowed.
"Something to share, Maren?" she asked quietly.
The girl's voice cracked. "No—I… I just…" She faltered, unable to finish.
The suspicion hung heavy in the air, unresolved, but the seed had been planted.
---
That night, after everyone left, Adrian lingered. "You think it's her?" he asked.
Velvet stared out the window at the city lights, her silhouette sharp against the glass. "Maybe. Maybe not. But betrayal doesn't whisper unless it's near."
Her voice was steady, but deep inside, doubt gnawed at her. Because the truth was simple: Kane had already succeeded in one thing. Even without proof, he had forced her to question those closest to her.
And in that fracture of trust, shadows found their way in.
Far across the city, Kane read the latest report from his informant and smiled. He didn't need to break Velvet with force. He only needed to let suspicion do the work for him.
"Cracks," he murmured, swirling the wine in his glass. "Once they begin, they only spread."
---