Chapter 292

Chapter 292:

Suki was standing in the doorway, suitcase in hand. She had scrubbed the makeup off. She looked like herself again — plain and frightened.

“Mr. Hyde?” she asked timidly. “Can I go now p>

Anson turned on her. He looked like a cornered animal.

“Go,” he snarled. “Go to South America. If I ever see your face again — if I ever see you pretending to be her p>

He didn’t finish the threat. He didn’t need to.

𝗪𝗲𝖾𝗄l𝘺 𝘳𝗲𝗅е𝖺𝗌еs 𝗈ո.с𝗈𝗆

Suki ran.

Anson stood alone in the silence of his mansion. He had failed. The double hadn’t worked. The photos hadn’t worked.

He walked to his desk, opened a drawer, and pulled out a thin folder. The label read: Project N.

He opened it. Inside was a photograph of a young woman with dark hair and eyes that looked disturbingly like Dallas Koch’s.

“Plan B,” Anson whispered.

He picked up his backup phone and dialed.

In the hospital room, Eliza was dozing in the chair beside the bed. Her phone vibrated.

She woke instantly. Unknown Number.

She glanced at Dallas. He was asleep, his breathing deep and even. She slipped out into the hallway.

“Hello p>

“You think you won.” Anson’s voice was smooth and calm. It sent a chill down her spine.

“Anson,” Eliza said, her voice turning to ice. “Don’t ever call me again p>

“I just wanted to congratulate you,” he said. “You saved your marriage. For now p>

“I know about Suki,” Eliza said. “I know everything. You’re pathetic p>

“Suki was a distraction,” Anson said. “A test. Dallas failed the test, didn’t he? He doubted you. Remember that p>

“He loves me,” Eliza said.

“Does he?” Anson laughed softly. “Does he love you enough to share all his secrets? Or only the ones he’s forced to reveal? You know about Cathey, his sister — a touching family reunion story.” He paused, letting the silence do its work. “But did he tell you what she’s really doing for him? Did he mention Project Nightingale? Why he keeps her so close p>

“He’s protecting his family,” Eliza said. “Something you wouldn’t understand p>

“Is that what he calls it?” Anson’s tone was slick with insinuation. “You’re so quick to believe him. Just like you were so quick to believe he was in Siberia. Be careful, El. The deepest secrets are the ones you think you already understand p>

The line went dead.

Eliza stood in the humming fluorescent light of the hallway.

Project Nightingale.

It was a lie. It had to be. Anson was simply planting another weed, twisting something she already knew into something ugly. That was what he did. That was all he had left.

But as she walked back into the room and looked at Dallas’s sleeping face, his words continued to echo. The deepest secrets are the ones you think you already understand.

She sat down and took his hand in both of hers.

“No more secrets,” she whispered to him. “Not from him. And not from me p>