𝐑𝐎𝐂𝐊 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐋𝐃 𝐀𝐅𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐋𝐃

You're Not Faye

The Faye he knew.

Didn’t the bee system mention something about punishment if anyone figured out I’m not from this world? And I’d been so sure no one would. No one did—except Wilde. He’s circling too close to the truth, and I have to stop him before he lands on it.

“Well, that was before,” I say quickly, forcing a casual shrug, trying to dissolve the tension threatening to brew.

“Sure, I have everything,” I add, leaning into the familiar role, “but you saw how little they think of me. They’ve always treated me like some brainless bimbo.”

It’s not even a lie. The Lozeros never respected Faye—they saw her as nothing more than a pawn.

“So,” he says, his lips curving into a faint smirk, “you thought saving the world would make them finally see your worth?”

His tone is teasing, skeptical, as if he’s already poked a dozen holes in my hastily-constructed story. He doesn’t believe me. When did I get so bad at lying?

My patience is thinning, and despite myself, some of my real personality bleeds through. I meet his gaze with an annoyed glare, my temper bubbling to the surface. Wilde doesn’t believe pure lies—I know that now. I’ll have to lace this one with just enough truth to make it stick.

I hate it. I hate that he’s making me vulnerable. He’s making it impossible for me to survive this, and the worst part is, I don’t think he even realizes it.

“Believe whatever you want,” I snap, rolling my eyes in irritation.

There. That’s the real me—the eye-rolling, no-nonsense version of myself breaking through the carefully constructed facade. But to my dismay, it works. He smiles. Triumphant. Smug.

I want to throttle him.

Instead, I focus my attention on the plate of food in front of me. It’s something simple but hearty—roasted chicken glazed with honey and spices, paired with buttery mashed potatoes and a side of crisp vegetables. I dig in, forcing myself to chew slowly, even though every fiber of my being is on edge.

For a moment, there’s silence between us, broken only by the clink of cutlery and the low hum of tension hanging in the air. We’re both waiting for the next round of this twisted game, each preparing to make our move.

Finally, I break the quiet. “You didn’t answer my question. When did you figure it out?”

He leans back slightly, taking his time as he wipes his mouth with a napkin. The deliberate pace grates on my nerves.

“You think you’re the only one with moles in my company?” he says, his voice smooth, tinged with amusement. “It is my company, Faye. Of course I know my weak links. I placed my weak links.”

His words land like a punch to the gut. My heart skips a beat, and I barely manage to keep my expression neutral as he continues.

“I placed Xavier.”

The room feels colder somehow, even with the warmth of the food in front of us. My mind races, trying to piece together how much he knows, how much he’s guessed.

I'm completely out of my depth.

"You were good at hiding your presence, though. I'll give you that," Wilde says, his tone carrying a rare note of admiration.

For a brief, foolish moment, my wounded pride swells at the praise. But I stomp it back down, refusing to let it distract me.

"It was difficult to trace you back through the man you used to contact Xavier," he continues. "But you slipped up when you reached out to him directly later."