Jasper
The city is a grid of silent light from my penthouse office. Dawn is just a rumor on the horizon. My desk is a slab of polished obsidian, reflecting the three screens in front of me. All three are displaying the same thing: Rhea Bishop in a torn blue dress, her face a mask of tragedy.
Marcus Chen, my assistant, stands beside the desk, holding a tablet. He hasn't slept either. His tie is still perfect.
“The official statement from the Bishop family was released an hour ago,” Marcus says, his voice the only sound in the room. “They cite ‘irreconcilable differences’ and request privacy during this difficult time. Thorne Corp has remained silent.”
I lean back in my chair, looking at the frozen image of Rhea’s face. “Privacy. A quaint notion.”
“The gossip columns are less concerned with privacy,” Marcus continues, his tone dry. “They’re calling it the scandal of the season. Ellis Thorne, caught with a maid on his engagement night. It’s almost too theatrical to be believed.”
“Almost,” I echo. I tap a key, and the image on the center screen switches to a different feed. Security footage from the hotel hallway, timestamped just minutes before her grand entrance. I zoom in on a figure standing by a marble pillar at the top of the grand staircase.
It’s her. Rhea Bishop. But it’s not the same woman.
There are no tears. No hysteria. Her posture is straight, her hands are steady. She watches the party below with an unnerving stillness. A predator watching its prey. Then, she takes a breath, her shoulders slump, her face crumples, and she transforms. She becomes the victim.
“What are we watching, sir?” Marcus asks, leaning closer.
“The truth,” I say. “Look at her. Right there. Does that look like a woman on the verge of a hysterical breakdown?”
Marcus is silent for a long moment, studying the screen. “No. It looks like a soldier preparing for battle.”
“Precisely. She wasn’t heartbroken. She was armed.” I switch the screen back to the photo of her in the ballroom. “Everything about last night was a calculation. The smeared makeup, the tear in the dress… even the fleeing maid, I suspect.”
“You think she staged the entire thing?” Marcus sounds incredulous. “To what end? To humiliate herself and her family and destroy a merger between two corporate dynasties?”
“To get out of the engagement,” I say simply. “She wanted out, and she chose a method so spectacular, so public, that no one could possibly force her to go back. She didn’t just break the engagement. She nuked it from orbit.”
“That’s… a staggering level of strategic thinking for a woman whose public profile is practically nonexistent.”
“Tell me about her public profile, Marcus.”
He clears his throat and swipes on his tablet. “Rhea Bishop. Twenty-four years old. Daughter of Richard Bishop and the late Eleanor Bishop, a celebrated architect in her own right. Graduated top of her class from the Sterling School of Design. Holds a junior designer position at Bishop Architecture, but has no major projects to her name. Always in the shadow of her stepsister, Delilah.”
“The firm’s golden child,” I mutter. Delilah. I saw her last night, clinging to Ellis Thorne’s arm, her face a perfect portrait of feigned concern. I had dismissed her as decorative.
“Delilah is the face of the company’s new direction,” Marcus confirms. “She has a string of award-winning designs. She’s considered a prodigy.”
“And Rhea is considered… what? The spare part.” My gaze drifts back to the security footage. The cold calm in her eyes. It doesn’t match the profile of a forgotten daughter. It matches the profile of a queen waiting for her moment to strike.
“That was the general consensus, sir.”
“Last night, I was at that party to evaluate Bishop Architecture,” I say, my fingers drumming on the desk. “I was considering them for the Elysian Spire.”
Marcus’s eyebrows shoot up. “You were? You never mentioned it.”
“It was a preliminary thought. Richard Bishop’s older work is solid, foundational. But after last night… the company is tainted by scandal. Ellis Thorne is a liability, and Delilah Bishop strikes me as a brand, not a brain.”
“So, we’re passing on the partnership?”
“The partnership I had in mind, yes.” I stand up and walk to the window, looking down at the city I plan to mark with my legacy. The Elysian Spire is not just a building. It is a statement. It requires a visionary, not a committee of compromised socialites.
“What are your orders, sir?”
I turn back from the window. “I want a dossier. Not on Delilah. On Rhea.”
Marcus blinks. “On Rhea, sir?”
“Yes. And I don’t want the public version. I don’t want a summary of her charity appearances and her school grades. I want to know everything. I want to know who her mother really was. I want to know what projects she worked on at school, what her professors thought of her. I want to see her bank statements, her phone records, every email she has sent for the past five years. I want to know what she had for breakfast yesterday morning.”
“Sir, that level of deep background check is… extensive. And intrusive.”
“I’m aware, Marcus. That’s why I have you.”
He doesn’t argue. He just nods. “And the purpose of this investigation?”
“My purpose is to understand the mind that orchestrated last night’s performance,” I say. “A woman who can tear down an empire with a five-thousand-dollar dress and a terrified maid is either a lunatic or a genius. And I don’t believe she’s a lunatic.”
“And Bishop Architecture?”
“For now, the firm is on hold. But the woman who just set it on fire… she has my complete attention.”
Marcus gives a single, sharp nod. “I’ll get started immediately.” He turns and walks out of the office, the door closing with a soft hiss behind him.
I am alone again with the three images of Rhea Bishop. The victim, the ghost, and the soldier. Who is she? Who is the real woman behind the calculating chaos she unleashed?
A faint smile touches my lips. The city’s most anticipated social event turned out to be far more interesting than I could have possibly imagined. Not because of the scandal, but because a new player has just stepped onto the board. And I have a feeling she’s about to change the entire game.
