Chapter 9
Winter in New York does not arrive gently. It settles into the bones and rearranges your personality.
By mid-January, the city had turned metallic. Snowbanks lined sidewalks like tired barricades. The sky hovered permanently in grayscale. Everyone walked faster. Everyone talked louder. And inside Arthur Beauty Global, the air felt like it was vibrating at a frequency just shy of collapse.
Security had tightened again.
Badge scans were now double-verified.
IT audits were underway.
Simone had implemented “internal information containment protocols,” which sounded less like office procedure and more like a hostage situation.
Andre had grown quieter.
That was the part that unsettled everyone most.
He was still composed. Still polished. Still devastatingly camera-ready.
But he was no longer unpredictable.
He was calculating.
And when powerful men become calculating, the temperature drops.
—
The message Melissa had received — You’re closer than you think — had not been a one-off.
Two days later, James received one.
He trusts you too much.
No sender. No signature.
Jenna received hers in the lab.
Ask about the foundation year.
Luis did not admit whether he had received anything.
Which meant he probably had.
The pattern was clear now.
The blackmailer wasn’t just targeting Andre.
They were recruiting the interns.
Which was either strategic.
Or reckless.
Or both.
—
By Thursday, Jenna had declared an emergency.
“We are not spiraling in silence,” she announced, slamming her laptop shut at 6:07 p.m. “We are going out.”
James blinked. “Out like… to dinner?”
“Out like martinis. Out like drama. Out like we deserve to be in a different lighting situation.”
Melissa hesitated. “We have early meetings.”
Jenna pointed at her. “You are not spreadsheeting your way through a conspiracy.”
James leaned back in his chair slowly.
“Where are we going?”
Jenna’s grin was dangerous.
“The Meridian Room.”
James sat up straight.
“Oh,” he said. “So we’re wearing heels.”
—
The Meridian Room was the kind of Upper East Side bar that pretended it had existed since prohibition, even though it had opened in 2018. Velvet booths. Gold sconces. A bartender who stirred martinis like he was negotiating treaties.
By 8:15 p.m., eight of them had gathered.
The original trio.
Luis.
Noah.
And three others from their orbit — Camille from PR (sharp, blonde, terrifying), Arjun from finance (quiet, observant, suspiciously well-dressed), and Talia from influencer operations (soft voice, brutal honesty).
It had escalated into an ensemble.
They slid into a curved velvet booth like they were assembling a jury.
James raised his martini first.
“To surviving Paris.”
“Barely,” Jenna muttered.
Glasses clinked.
Melissa took a careful sip.
It burned.
She liked it.
Camille leaned forward. “Let’s address the obvious. Are we being set up?”
Noah blinked. “You just opened with that?”
“We don’t have time for appetizers,” Camille replied coolly.
Luis glanced at Jenna. “Set up how?”
Camille lowered her voice. “You’re interns. And somehow you’re at the center of everything.”
Talia nodded slowly. “That’s true.”
James swirled his olive. “We pitched a good line.”
Arjun spoke for the first time. “You were also in every leak’s proximity.”
The table went quiet.
Melissa’s stomach tightened.
Jenna leaned back. “What are you implying?”
Arjun shrugged lightly. “Nothing. I work in finance. I see patterns.”
Melissa felt exposed in a way she did not enjoy.
Noah looked between them. “Wait. Are you suggesting someone here is involved?”
Camille shrugged. “I’m suggesting that corporate sabotage rarely comes from outside.”
James laughed lightly, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Okay. That’s enough paranoia.”
“Is it?” Camille countered.
Another round arrived.
The second martini went down easier.
Conversations splintered.
James found himself angled toward Noah, knees brushing under the table.
“Do you think I’m stupid?” James asked suddenly.
Noah blinked. “What?”
“For staying,” James clarified. “For not running.”
Noah studied him. “I think you like proximity to power.”
James’s lips curved. “Everyone does.”
“Not like you.”
There it was.
A crack.
James leaned closer. “And how do I like it?”
Noah’s gaze didn’t waver. “Like you think it makes you safer.”
The words landed harder than they should have.
James pulled back slightly. “You’re projecting.”
“No,” Noah said gently. “I’m watching.”
Across the table, Jenna and Luis were locked in a separate battle.
“You’re distant,” Jenna accused.
“I’m careful,” Luis corrected.
“About what?”
“About being collateral.”
Jenna stared at him. “Collateral to who?”
Luis held her gaze. “You.”
The word hit like a dropped glass.
“What does that mean?” she demanded.
“It means,” Luis said quietly, “you move toward explosions.”
“And?”
“And I don’t know if you know how to step back.”
The air between them thickened.
Talia leaned toward Melissa. “He’s right, you know.”
“About what?”
“You three,” Talia said softly. “You’re orbiting Andre too closely.”
Melissa exhaled. “We didn’t choose that.”
“No,” Talia said. “But you didn’t refuse it.”
Camille leaned back dramatically. “Okay. Let’s get messy. Who here believes Andre is innocent?”
Silence.
No hands.
Arjun took a slow sip. “Innocent of what?”
“Exactly,” Camille replied.
Jenna’s phone buzzed.
She ignored it.
It buzzed again.
She checked it.
Her expression changed.
“What?” Melissa asked.
Jenna turned her phone slowly so only the trio could see.
A video.
Timestamped that night.
Security footage.
The twenty-seventh floor.
Andre’s office.
And someone entering it after hours.
The camera angle was partial.
The figure wore a dark coat.
Familiar posture.
Familiar height.
James felt his breath stop.
Because the person entering Andre’s office—
Looked exactly like him.
The table dissolved into noise.
“What is it?” Noah asked.
James’s voice came out thin. “Nothing.”
Melissa’s heart pounded so hard she felt it in her throat.
The figure in the video paused at Andre’s door.
Turned slightly.
The angle shifted.
It wasn’t James.
But it was close enough that doubt could bloom.
The video cut.
Attached message:
Ask him where he was Tuesday at 11:14 p.m.
Jenna’s eyes snapped to James.
“Where were you?” she asked, low.
James went still.
“I—”
His hesitation was microscopic.
But in winter, microscopic things crystallize.
“I was home,” he said.
Noah’s expression flickered.
“Were you?” he asked softly.
James’s gaze shot to him.
“Of course I was.”
But something in his tone had shifted.
Across the booth, Arjun was watching carefully.
Camille leaned back, sensing blood.
“Oh,” she murmured.
Melissa felt the floor tilt.
“James,” she said carefully. “Tuesday night. Where were you?”
He looked between them.
“I went out,” he admitted finally.
“With who?” Jenna demanded.
James’s jaw tightened.
“With someone I didn’t want to explain.”
The table went silent again.
Noah’s face had gone pale.
“Who?” he asked.
James looked at him.
And for the first time since spring—
He didn’t have charm to hide behind.
“Simone,” he said quietly.
The word detonated.
“What?” Jenna breathed.
Melissa’s brain stopped.
Noah’s expression shuttered.
James pushed on, fast now. “It wasn’t like that. She asked to meet. She wanted to talk about the leaks. She thought someone was targeting the intern team.”
“And you didn’t tell us?” Jenna snapped.
“It wasn’t confirmed.”
“It wasn’t your secret to hold,” Melissa said softly.
James’s eyes flashed. “I was protecting you.”
“From what?”
“From being implicated.”
The bartender refilled glasses that no one touched.
Noah stood slowly.
“So you were with Simone,” he said evenly. “Late. Alone.”
“Yes.”
“And you didn’t think to mention that when your face just appeared in security footage?”
James stood too. “It’s not my face.”
“It’s close enough.”
The booth felt too small.
The bar too loud.
The city too sharp.
Noah’s voice dropped. “Do you even know which side you’re on?”
James recoiled as if struck.
“I’m on mine,” he said.
Noah’s eyes hardened.
“That’s what I was afraid of.”
And then he left.
Just like that.
No dramatic speech.
No thrown drink.
Just absence.
James stood frozen.
Jenna stared at him, betrayal and concern fighting in her chest.
Melissa whispered, “Why didn’t you tell us?”
James swallowed.
“Because if Simone is involved,” he said quietly, “then Andre isn’t the only one being played.”
Silence settled over the table like snow.
Outside, the city glowed cold and unblinking.
Inside, something fundamental had shifted.
Trust had fractured.
And for the first time—
The sabotage had reached into their booth.
Their orbit.
Their hearts.
Winter had teeth.
And it had just bitten.
