Jenna POV:
The calendar on my phone glowed, marking the dwindling days until my departure. Two days left. I yearned for a quiet end, a final, unceremonious fade from their lives. But peace, it seemed, was not to be mine.
My phone rang, an unexpected call from Bryan. My heart gave a strange thump.
"Jenna? Are you coming home for dinner?" His voice was hesitant, almost soft.
I was caught off guard. "Dinner? I'm busy packing, Bryan."
A breath on the other end, a pause that stretched into an eternity. Then, a quiet murmur. "It's my birthday, Jenna."
My stomach dropped. His birthday. I had forgotten. The first time. A wave of guilt, sharp and cold, washed over me. How could I have forgotten?
"Oh, Bryan," I stammered, my voice thick with genuine regret. "I'm so sorry. I... I really am."
"We're having your favorite osso buco," he pressed softly. "Just us. Not a big celebration. Please, Jenna?"
I almost refused, the thought of facing them again, of feeling like an intruder, heavy in my gut. But "just us." The words were a lure.
"Francis isn't here," he added, as if reading my mind.
That was the turning point. "Okay," I said, the word barely a whisper. "I'll be there."
When I arrived at the Salazar estate, the sun was setting, painting the sky in shades of bruised purple and orange. Howard was in the garden, meticulously watering the rose bushes, a habit he'd inherited from our mother. He looked up, a faint smile touching his lips.
"Jenna," he said, and for a moment, it felt like the old days. "Bryan's in the kitchen. Dinner's almost ready."
The air was thick with a nostalgia I hadn' t realized I craved. Inside, Bryan was indeed fussing over the stove. He greeted me with a hesitant hug, and for a fleeting moment, the years of bitterness seemed to melt away. We sat at the polished mahogany table, the same table where countless family dinners had taken place. Howard carved the osso buco, Bryan poured the wine. The familiar ritual, the quiet comfort, almost lulled me into believing we were a family again.
The conversation was surprisingly easy, polite, almost normal. We talked about trivial things, about old memories, carefully skirting the edges of anything that might cause a rift. My guard, which had been up for so long, began to soften.
Then, Howard cleared his throat. "Jenna," he began, his voice taking on a more serious tone. "Bryan and I were thinking... we could all take a trip. Just the three of us. Like old times. To the Alps, perhaps?"
My breath hitched. The Alps. Francis's suggestion. A cruel echo. "I can't," I said, my voice flat. "I already told you, I have an appointment in Zurich. For work."
Howard looked down at his plate, a flicker of disappointment crossing his face. "Of course. Your work."
"Can't it be postponed, Jenna?" Bryan pressed, a subtle eagerness in his eyes. "Just this once?"
"The arrangements are made," I said, my voice firm. "It's non-negotiable."
Howard sighed, then surprisingly, came to my defense. "Jenna's always been dedicated to her work, Bryan. We know that." He offered me a refill of wine, then changed the subject. "How's your... assistant, these days?"
My fork clattered against my plate. My appetite vanished. The air in the room suddenly felt thick, oppressive. "Cesar is well," I confirmed, my voice clipped.
Howard leaned forward, his voice dropping, laced with a false concern I now recognized all too well. "Be careful, Jenna. There are people out there who prey on families like ours. People who see opportunity in our vulnerabilities. People who might try to use you for their own gain." His gaze was pointed, unwavering.
I put my fork down, my hands trembling slightly. "You don't need to warn me, Howard," I said, my voice cold. "You stopped caring about my well-being a long time ago. Your concern now is only for your secrets." I leaned forward, my eyes locking with his. "You're afraid, aren't you? Afraid of what might happen if someone truly from outside our circle gets too close."
Howard's gaze hardened, his jaw clenching. The fragile peace of the dinner shattered, splintering into shards of accusation and resentment.
Bryan slammed his fist on the table. "You're spoiled, Jenna! Blind! You always have been!"
I stood, my chair scraping loudly against the floor. "I'm not the one pretending, Bryan."
Howard silenced Bryan with a sharp glance, then turned back to me, his voice dangerously low. "Your 'assistant,' as you call him, Cesar Witt, is the founder of Aegis Collective. A rival cybersecurity organization. A very dangerous one. He has been tracking our movements, our clients. Did you know that, Jenna?"
My heart pounded. I knew. Of course, I knew. He was laying out the groundwork for my betrayal, painting Cesar as the villain, and me as his unwitting pawn.
"He's using you, Jenna. Don't you see it? Selling our family's secrets to our greatest competitor. You can't trust him." Howard's words were meant to wound, to instill doubt.
I cut him off, my voice sharp. "I appreciate your concern, Howard. But I don't need you to question my friends. I can take care of myself. I have been, for a long time."
The true purpose of the dinner, the sudden invitation, the feigned concern, clicked into place. This wasn't about reconciliation. This was about control. About warning me, subtly threatening me, about preserving their empire-an empire I was about to abandon. The irony was a bitter taste in my mouth. They thought they were protecting their secrets from Cesar. They had no idea I was about to walk right into his arms, taking all their secrets with me.
The dinner devolved rapidly. Bryan, frustrated, threw his plate against the wall, the ceramic shattering with a deafening crash. Howard stared at me, his eyes filled with silent accusation, as if I had personally orchestrated this chaos. Francis, perhaps, would have feigned tears; he remained silent, observing, calculating.
Without another word, I turned and walked out.
The day of my departure arrived sooner than expected. Cesar was already there, waiting. "Everything ready, Jenna?" he asked, his eyes scanning my face.
I nodded, a silent affirmation.
My new life began the moment we landed in Zurich. A kind, efficient woman, a coordinator for Aegis, met us at the private airfield. "Mr. Witt insists you rest today," she explained, leading me to a sleek, waiting car.
The Aegis Collective headquarters was a sprawling, modern marvel nestled in the Swiss Alps, a luxurious mansion disguised as a fortress. Cesar Witt, the elusive founder, greeted me in his study. He was elegant, charming, far from the reclusive, ruthless figure the rumors depicted.
"Jenna Salazar," he said, his voice smooth, his eyes piercing. "Your family has quite the reputation. Tell me, why leave all that behind?"
I gave him a vague answer about my parents' deaths, about wanting a fresh start, a place where my talents were truly valued. He nodded, studying me carefully. "Your parents would be proud, I think. You have their fire."
He stepped closer, his voice dropping. "I want you to call anyone you wish to speak to today, Jenna. After this, you will be offline. Completely."
I pulled out my phone, my thumb hovering over Howard's name. No. Bryan. Maybe Bryan would understand. I pressed his name, but a different voice answered. Francis. My stomach dropped.
"Hello?" Francis's voice, sickly sweet.
"Francis," I managed, my voice a strained whisper. "Where's Bryan?"
"He told me to answer for him," Francis said, a smugness in his tone. "Said you might be calling. Can I take a message?"
In the background, I heard my brothers' laughter, distant and carefree. They were laughing. With him. While I was making my final farewell.
I swallowed a sob, a bitter taste filling my mouth. "No," I choked out. "Just... tell him I said hello."
I ended the call, pulled out my SIM card, and crushed it under my heel. The old Jenna Salazar was gone. Erased.
