Smokes and Mirrors

Lucian’s office was shrouded in a quiet stillness when he returned late in the evening. His thoughts still lingering on the earlier conversation with Ayra. For the first time in years, he felt a sliver of relief. 

Ayra was Isa. She had to be. The resemblance was too uncanny, and there were too many small moments that tugged at old memories. 

He had convinced himself of it. The sinking feeling of uncertainty he'd carried for so long was finally giving way to certainty.

Nico was waiting in the corner of the room, flipping through a folder with a look of deep concentration. He stood up the moment Lucian entered.

“You’re back earlier than I expected,” Nico said, his tone casual. But there was a weight in his voice that Lucian didn’t miss.

“What is it?” Lucian asked as he shrugged off his coat and tossed it onto the nearest chair.

"It's... about the investigation." Nico said; his tone was cautious. “We have something about Ayra.”

Lucian frowned and waved dismissively. “There’s no need. Call it off. The investigation is done.”

Nico blinked in surprise. “Done? What do you mean?”

"Cancel it. It doesn't matter anymore. I'm convinced Ayra is Isa. The resemblance, the timing - it all lines up. A little ten percent never hurt anyone."

Nico didn’t reply for a while, his jaw tightening as if debating whether to push further. Finally, he stepped forward, laying the folder on the desk in front of Lucian.

"With respect, boss, you might want to rethink that."

Lucian scowled at him. “What are you talking about?”

Nico opened the folder to reveal several photographs and reports. “We’ve been looking into her background, as you requested. At first, everything seemed to align. But something was off, boss. Really off. And we found out why. We've uncovered something new, boss. And it's... big."

Lucian’s gaze flicked to the documents. He had a bad feeling about this. 

“Explain.”

“Our hunch about Ayra being Isa wasn’t entirely baseless,” Nico began, “but Ferdinand’s people have been actively messing with our investigation. They’ve been planting information, manipulating records, and steering us toward the conclusion that she’s Isa.”

Lucian’s brow furrowed deeply as he flipped through the papers. The photographs showed evidence of altered documents, payments made to informants, and surveillance footage revealing one of his own men handing over details to an unknown intermediary.

“Smokescreens,” Nico continued. “Whoever Ferdinand has working for him is good - like, freakishly good. They’ve been feeding us breadcrumbs, just enough to keep us chasing the idea that Ayra is Isa. But the more we dig, the more it falls apart.”

Lucian’s grip on the papers tightened. “What are you saying?”

“I’m saying,” Nico began carefully, "that we've been hacked, boss. Ayra is not Isa. She is just a coincidental though highly improbable look alike of the age extrapolated photos we generated of Isa."

The words hung in the air, heavy like a thundercloud. 

Lucian's chest tightened. "And you're only telling me this now?"

Nico threw his hands up in defense. "Because Ferdinand's people were screwing with our investigation. As I said, they laid down false leads, manipulated sources, and fed us a trail of breadcrumbs designed to lead right to Ayra. 

It wasn't until we caught their inside man that we started piecing it together. We’ve been working non-stop to untangle the web Ferdinand spun. This is what he does, boss. He manipulates people like pieces on a chessboard.”

Lucian sprang out of the chair, scraping it loudly across the floor. He paced the room, his fists clenched and released repeatedly at his sides. Due to a highly restrictive clause in their agreement, it was impossible for Lucian to call off the marriage now. It was too late. 

"Ferdinand," he growled. "That son of a—"

"He played us," Nico said. "He knew you'd never agree to marry his daughter under normal circumstances. So he made you think that Ayra was Isa, banking that you'd take the bait."

Lucian let out a harsh laugh that was devoid of humor. “And now I’m married to his pawn.”

Nico raised an eyebrow. “Technically, you’re not married yet.”

Lucian shot him a withering glare. “Do. Not. Start.”

The only sound in the room for a moment was the hum of the city outside. Lucian rubbed a hand over his face, trying to process the information. He was so used to being one to five steps ahead of everyone, but Ferdinand had outmaneuvered him. The man's infamy was well earned. 

"What do we know about this inside man?" Lucian asked finally, his voice low and dangerous.

Nico straightened slightly. "He's been dealt with. He won't be spilling secrets to anyone else. But even he knows very little."

Lucian nodded, though it did little to cool his ire. He strode to the window, staring out over the lights of the city. His reflection in the glass looked every inch as tense and stormy as he felt.

Nico gave Lucian space to process the revelation. He knew how much Isa meant to his employer. 

“What do you want to do now?” he asked cautiously.

Lucian paced the room, his mind racing. His thoughts were a whirlwind of anger, betrayal, and regret. He had allowed himself to believe, to hope, and now it had all been torn away.

Fuck it all. 

Fuck Russo. 

“Call everyone back,” Lucian said finally, his voice cold and steady. “We’re done chasing this ghost. From now on, our focus is on Ferdinand and his operations. I want to know every move he’s making, every scheme he’s running. No more games.”

Nico nodded. “Understood.”

As Nico left the room, Lucian sank into his chair, his head in his hands. The weight of the revelation pressed down on him with a crushing force. He had been so certain, so convinced that Ayra was Isa. Now, he felt like a fool.

But beneath the anger and disappointment, there was something else—a flicker of unease. If Ferdinand had gone to such lengths to deceive him, there had to be a deeper motive. What was he trying to gain? And what role did Ayra play in all of this?

Lucian’s gaze drifted to the twin of the pendant necklace he had given Ayra earlier. He had taken the pendant's other sibling and now it lay on his desk, a stark reminder of the hope he’d once held. He picked it up, turning it over in his hand, and let out a bitter laugh.

“There was no Isa,” he muttered to himself. “There was only ever a lie.” And it frustrated him to no end. 

His mind reeled, replaying every exchange he'd had with Ayra since their paths had crossed. He thought of how she'd protested their arrangement, the vulnerability she had tried to cloak in defiance.

How much if it was an act? To be honest he would bet on all of it at this point. The Russos were a highly competent bunch. Con men and criminals a lot of them. 

They would not escape his wrath. They would regret using his care for Isa in such a way.