Chapter 184

Ava’s POV

“Hold on, let me recap to make sure I’m up to speed,” Isabella said, pulling a pillow closer. “Grayson received a message from the killer right before the shooting. But wait—shouldn’t we name this guy?”

I looked up from my blank page, raising an eyebrow. “How do you know it’s a guy?”

“Obvious conclusion,” she said with a dramatic eye-roll. “Why would a woman do this? I support women’s empowerment, but this seems unlikely. Whoever it is has immense power and backing—unlikely for a woman. This person is a master planner!” Her eyes lit up. “I’ve got it!” She shook her head. “Nope. Never mind. Back to the recap.”

I sighed, returning to my paper, scribbling down some unsatisfactory words.

“Okay, Grayson got shot, then this guy sent another message: ‘You’re next.’ Security’s tripled; five men guard this room. Then, at the meeting where Grayson announced a mole, you took over. Afterward, Ivan told only you he knew the mole was Elaine?”

I hummed, staring at my notes. They were wrong. Isabella snatched the paper.

“What’s more important than this?!” she demanded, waving the paper. “Elaine’s the mole, and you didn’t tell Grayson?”

I sighed. “Elaine isn’t the mole. She acts suspicious, but she’s not feeding information to the enemy. That’s why I stopped Ivan.”

“How are you so sure?” she asked, narrowing her eyes.

“Elaine’s trauma stems from her parents’ death. She’s terrified of death. That’s why, even when angry at Grayson, she shows up—she doesn’t want to miss saying goodbye, unlike with her parents. She wouldn't get involved with a killer—it contradicts her deepest fears. Plus, she's Grayson's cousin. That gives her power. Elaine loves being on top; she wouldn't help someone trying to bring Grayson down—that would bring her down too. Now, my paper?”

Isabella processed this, then reluctantly returned the paper. “How do you know all this?”

“We were trained in human behavior,” I said. “It’s part of being a doctor.”

“Fine,” she said, crossing her arms. “Next—why are you so calm? Mr. Master Planner set Grayson’s building on fire and is now after Maria!”

“Because,” I said, crossing out a line, “Grayson and I communicate better now. He’s on his way back with Maria. She was attacked, but being a powerful witch, she held her ground until Grayson and his warriors arrived. Besides the target on my back”—I crumpled the paper in frustration—“I’d say everything’s splendid.”

Isabella hummed thoughtfully. I raised an eyebrow. “Is that all? No recap of me telling Grayson I loved him?”

She waved dismissively. “Oh, please. Everyone knew. I told him in Italy, before your birthday.”

I froze. “You what?”

“That’s not the point,” she said quickly. “It doesn’t deserve a recap unless he reciprocated.”

Heat rushed to my cheeks. “He didn’t, but he—”

“Yes, yes, kissed you,” she interrupted, rolling her eyes. “It was magical, and you felt him say it, but we need actual words, Lilian. Words!” She threw a pillow at me.

I laughed, dodging it.

“Okay, recap’s done,” she said, stretching. “And since, according to you, everything’s fine, what are you writing?” She gestured to the crumpled papers.

I sighed, leaning back. “This resignation letter due tomorrow. Going back to work endangers hospital staff. Now I’m on partial lockdown, tracked everywhere—even the bathroom. I appreciate the effort, but still…”

“It’s frustrating,” she finished.

“Exactly,” I muttered. “Bels, in a formal letter, does the salutation come before the heading?”

“Why ask me? Check the internet. Now, if you’ll excuse me.”

“No alcohol, Bels,” I called. “And Grayson’s bar isn’t your personal store. Stop taking bottles.”

“Blah blah blah,” she said over her shoulder. “I wasn’t going to the bar—I’m hungry.”

She hopped off the bed, and I rolled my eyes.

I frowned at my half-written sentences. This was harder than I thought. My thoughts drifted to Grayson and the chaos. This wasn't a game; it was escalating.

Footsteps. Isabella returned with food, plopping down and watching me.

“If you spent half as much time on this letter as on Grayson, you’d be done,” she said between bites.

I hurled a pillow, laughing. Isabella caught it effortlessly.

“Don’t make me kick you out,” I warned playfully.

She rolled her eyes and grabbed her phone. Her expression changed drastically.

“What is it?” I asked, half-laughing. “Veronica again?”

Her silence was ominous. Isabella didn't take things lightly. She looked up, her lips thin.

“That reporter, Natalie Kingston,” she said quietly.

“The ‘thirsty ass bitch’ stirring up trouble?” I grinned. “What’d she write? Another conspiracy about Grayson’s ‘secret heir’?”

Isabella didn’t smile. Her eyes locked on mine, heavy with truth.

“Breaking News: Cursed and Wolfless? How Grayson Blackwood’s Secret Could Crumble His Reign: The Alpha King’s shocking truth revealed—no wolf, no power.”