Our five-year marriage was nothing more than a weapon now—a tool to dismantle the enemy from within. Scarlett became the perfect pawn. Through her, we fed false intelligence to Carter, who in turn delivered it to his superiors. Bit by bit, their organization crumbled under the weight of their own missteps.
Today’s mission had been the final act. From the moment I stepped into that enemy-controlled command room, the operation was already underway. The attacks on the periphery were nothing more than a diversion, designed to clear a path for me to infiltrate the heart of their base and transmit the precise coordinates.
By the time Scarlett and her team entered the warehouse, the enemy’s leader had already been dealt with—by my own hand. Of course, no one else knew that. The official report would credit Scarlett with the kill, painting her as a hero to shield me from potential retaliation.
When we’d devised the plan, Bianca had been adamant, her voice brimming with disdain. “It’s her honor to be your scapegoat,” she’d said, her tone cutting. “If she didn’t still have some use, I would’ve shot her myself.”