The voice was smooth, confident, and entirely familiar.

It was Tristan.

I looked at Arthur, who remained perfectly still, his eyes fixed on my face.

“What do you want, Tristan?” I asked, trying to keep my voice steady.

“I just wanted to make sure you were preparing for tomorrow night,” Tristan said.

I could hear the faint sound of clinking glasses and light laughter in his background.

He was at a restaurant. Probably with Khloe.

“Everything is ready,” I said.

“Good,” Tristan said. “Khloe and I have a very big surprise planned for the art auction. I wanted to make sure you were there to see it.”

He paused, and the background noise seemed to quiet down.

“And Kate?” he added, his voice dropping to a whisper. “Don’t try to play hero. You’re already holding the matches.”

The line went dead.

A sharp beep signaled the end of the call.

Suddenly, the lights in Arthur’s office flickered once.

They flickered twice, and then the entire room plunged into pitch darkness.

Outside, the distant wail of a siren began to rise over the sound of the rain.