Chapter 4 Everyone's Lies

# Chapter 4: Everyone's Lies

I barely slept that night, the anonymous message replaying in my mind like a broken record. A replacement. Designed for me. The implications were too disturbing to ignore, yet too vague to act upon without more information.

By morning, I had made my decision. I would confront my father directly.

Richard Winters operated from the top floor of Winters Tower, a gleaming monstrosity of steel and glass that dominated the downtown skyline. I hadn't visited his office since taking over the subsidiary, a deliberate choice to establish my independence.

When I arrived, his secretary—a woman who had worked for him since before I was born—gave me a surprised look.

"Ms. Winters! We weren't expecting you. Your father is in a meeting—"

"He'll see me," I said, brushing past her and pushing open the heavy double doors to his office.

Inside, my father sat behind his imposing desk, on a call that he promptly ended when he saw me. Two executives I vaguely recognized scrambled to their feet, sensing the tension.

"Gentlemen," my father said smoothly, "we'll continue this later."

They fled like frightened rabbits, closing the door behind them.

Richard Winters, at sixty-two, remained an intimidating figure—tall, broad-shouldered, with silver hair and calculating blue eyes that matched my own. He observed me with mild curiosity as I approached his desk.

"Celeste. To what do I owe this unexpected pleasure?"

"Who is Evan Mitchell?" I asked without preamble.

Something flashed across his face—surprise, perhaps, or satisfaction that I had finally asked the right question.

"Your assistant, I believe." He leaned back in his chair, fingers steepled. "Is there a problem?"

"Don't play games," I snapped. "Who is he really? And what happened to the 'real' Evan Mitchell?"

My father smiled thinly. "Sit down, Celeste."

"I prefer to stand."

"And I prefer not to crane my neck during conversations." His tone left no room for argument.

I sat reluctantly, hating how easily he could still command my obedience.

"Evan Mitchell was a promising young executive in our Singapore office," he began, watching me carefully. "Smart, ambitious, with an excellent record. When I needed someone to... assist you, his name came up."

"So he is real."

"Oh yes, quite real." My father's smile didn't reach his eyes. "But he's currently overseeing our expansion in Southeast Asia. The man you know as Evan is someone else entirely."

My stomach tightened. "Who?"

"Someone carefully selected for you. Someone with the right combination of intelligence, loyalty, and..." he paused delicately, "appeal."

"You had someone study me. Create a persona you thought would work on me." The realization made me feel violated in a way I hadn't expected.

"I had someone create a suitable companion for you," he corrected. "You've always been isolated, Celeste. Driven away anyone who got too close. I simply provided someone designed to withstand your... particular personality."

"You mean someone designed to manipulate me."

He shrugged. "Call it what you will. The results speak for themselves. You're more focused, more productive with him at your side. The subsidiary's numbers are improving."

"And what's his real name?" I demanded.

"Does it matter? He is Evan Mitchell now."

"It matters to me."

My father studied me for a long moment. "You've grown attached to him," he observed, something like disappointment in his voice. "That wasn't part of the plan."

"What was the plan, exactly? That he'd report to you while pretending to be loyal to me? That he'd influence my decisions to align with your vision?"

"Initially, yes." He didn't even have the decency to deny it. "But plans evolve. People evolve. Your Evan has proven... less predictable than anticipated."

"He's not 'my Evan,'" I said automatically, though something inside me protested the denial.

My father's smile turned knowing. "No? Then why are you here, demanding answers about him? Why do you care who he was before?"

I stood abruptly. "This conversation is over."

"Celeste." His voice stopped me as I turned to leave. "Be careful. Attachments are liabilities in our world. I thought I'd taught you that."

I looked back at him, suddenly weary of his manipulations. "You taught me many things, Father. Including how to recognize when I'm being controlled."

His expression hardened. "You need someone at your side. Without guidance, you'll destroy everything I've built."

"Perhaps that's exactly what needs to happen."

As I walked out, his final words followed me: "Ask your friend Mara about loyalty sometime. You might be surprised by what you learn."

---

I didn't return to the office. Instead, I texted Mara to meet me at a small café several blocks from Winters Tower—neutral ground, away from prying eyes and listening devices.

She arrived looking perfectly put-together as always, but I detected tension in the set of her shoulders.

"This is cryptic, even for you," she said, sliding into the booth across from me. "What's so urgent?"

I studied her face—the face of my oldest friend, my confidante since business school. "How long have you been reporting to my father?"

To her credit, she didn't flinch. "He told you."

"He implied. You just confirmed it."

She sighed, removing her glasses to rub the bridge of her nose. "It's not what you think."

"Then what is it?"

"Your father approached me when you were appointed to the subsidiary. He was concerned about you, said he needed someone to keep an eye on you."

"Spy on me, you mean."

"Protect you," she corrected. "Celeste, you've made enemies within the company. People who see you as a threat or an obstacle."

"And you agreed to this... protection detail?"

She met my gaze steadily. "I agreed to make sure no one undermined you. Yes, I reported to your father, but only things that were relevant to your safety and success."

"What about Evan?" I asked. "Did you know about him?"

Her hesitation told me everything.

"You knew," I said flatly. "You knew he wasn't who he claimed to be."

"I knew your father had placed him with you. I didn't know the details."

I laughed bitterly. "My father and my best friend, conspiring behind my back. Anyone else I should know about? My doorman? My hairdresser?"

"This isn't a joke, Celeste. Your father—"

"My father is a controlling manipulator who can't stand the thought of me operating independently," I interrupted. "And you helped him."

Mara leaned forward, voice low and urgent. "Listen to me. Whatever game your father was playing with Evan, I think it backfired. That man is devoted to you. I've seen it."

"Or he's an excellent actor."

"No one's that good." She shook her head. "The way he looks at you when you're not watching... that can't be faked."

I wanted to believe her. But trust, once broken, is not easily repaired.

"I'm done," I said, gathering my purse. "Done with my father's games, done with people pretending to care while reporting my every move."

"What are you going to do?"

"Cut the strings," I replied. "All of them."

---

By evening, I had changed all my passwords, revoked Mara's access to my personal files, and instructed building security to update my apartment's entry protocols. I sat in my darkened living room, a glass of whiskey in hand, contemplating my next move.

The elevator chimed—someone using the emergency override. Only two people had that capability: my father and Evan.

When the doors opened, Evan stood there, concern etched on his face. "You disappeared. No one knew where you went. I was worried."

"Were you?" I took another sip of whiskey. "Or were you concerned your assignment was going off-script?"

He stepped into the apartment, confusion replacing concern. "What are you talking about?"

"I know, Evan. Or whatever your real name is." I set down my glass with deliberate care. "I know my father created you specifically for me. A custom-made manipulation tool."

He froze, color draining from his face. "Celeste—"

"Don't." I held up my hand. "Don't lie to me anymore. I've had enough lies for one day."

He moved closer, stopping when I tensed. "Yes, your father recruited me specifically for you. Yes, there was deception involved. But that doesn't make everything between us a lie."

"Doesn't it?" I stood, needing the physical advantage of height. "You studied me, learned what would appeal to me, and played that role perfectly."

"At first, yes," he admitted. "But people change. Feelings change."

"So I'm supposed to believe you've developed genuine feelings for me? How convenient."

Something hardened in his expression—determination replacing caution. "You want the truth? Fine. My name is Alexander Reid. I worked in corporate intelligence before your father hired me. He wanted someone who could assess your capabilities and keep you under control while appearing harmless."

"And you agreed to this... why?"

"Money, initially. A lot of it." He took a step closer. "But then I met you. Saw how brilliant you are, how fiercely you fight for what's yours. How could I not be drawn to that?"

"Pretty words," I said, though something in me wavered. "But they change nothing."

"They change everything." Another step. "I'm not your father's man anymore. I haven't been since that night in your study when you asked me to choose."

We stood facing each other, the city lights casting shadows across his features. I searched his face for deception and found only raw vulnerability.

"Everyone has been lying to me," I said quietly. "My father, Mara, you. I have no reason to trust anything you say."

"Then trust what I do." He reached for my hand, and despite myself, I let him take it. "I'm here, Celeste. Not because your father ordered it, not because of some assignment, but because I can't imagine being anywhere else."

His thumb traced circles on my palm, the simple touch sending electricity up my arm. I wanted to pull away. I wanted to move closer.

"I'm cutting ties with everyone who's been manipulating me," I told him. "My father, Mara... all of them."

"Good." His approval surprised me. "They don't deserve your loyalty."

I studied him, this man who had been sent to control me but now seemed as caught as I was. "And what about you? Do you deserve it?"

Instead of answering, he dropped to his knees before me, still holding my hand. The gesture—so unexpected, so complete in its surrender—stole my breath.

"I don't deserve anything from you," he said, looking up at me with eyes that held no guile. "But I'm asking anyway. Let me stay, Celeste. Not as your father's spy, not even as your employee. Just as yours."

The raw honesty in his voice, the vulnerability of his position—it broke something open inside me. I reached down, cupping his face in my hands.

"If you betray me," I whispered, "I will destroy you."

He turned his face to kiss my palm. "I know."

"Tonight," I said, pulling him to his feet, "you'll be only mine. No one else's."

His eyes darkened as he stepped closer, until our bodies were nearly touching. "I've always been yours," he murmured. "From the moment you saw through me."

As his lips met mine, I knew I was making either the best decision of my life or the worst mistake. But for once, I didn't care about the consequences. Tonight, in this moment, he was mine alone.

"Mine," I whispered against his mouth.

He pulled back just enough to meet my gaze, his own filled with certainty. "I've never belonged to anyone but you."