Contract Marriage with My Secret Partner in Crime-Chapter 22: Invitation

[179 Days Left to Live]

Zephany sat stiffly on the edge of the hospital bed, watching as the doctor flipped through the last page of her medical chart. He glanced at her, adjusting his glasses before speaking.

"Well, Miss Draven, all your tests came back normal. There's no sign of any underlying illness," he said, his tone neutral but firm. "From what we can tell, you collapsed due to exhaustion. You need to take better care of yourself—get enough sleep, eat well, and avoid overworking."

Zephany nodded slowly, unaware of the truth. On the surface, her body appeared fine—just another case of overexertion. But those who knew about Project Helix understood that things were never that simple.

"Also, you were lucky," the doctor continued, setting the chart aside. "A good Samaritan saw you collapse on the street and brought you here. They didn't leave their name, but you should be grateful."

Zephany's fingers curled into fists on her lap. That wasn't what happened.

She remembered the mission. The final stretch before reaching The Erasers—just one elevator ride away. Then, the searing pain that knocked her unconscious.

Yet, here she was, in a hospital, being told she simply "collapsed from exhaustion."

She forced a small smile. "I understand. Thank you, doctor."

With that, she was discharged.

The moment she stepped out of the hospital, the evening air felt oddly heavy against her skin. She took a deep breath, trying to push away the unease creeping up her spine.

Soon, she found herself standing in front of her home. The dim glow of the streetlamp cast long shadows on the doorstep as she unlocked the door and stepped inside.

Silence.

The house was eerily quiet. Too empty.

She sighed, shutting the door behind her. Her brother still hadn't come home.

It had been like this for a while now. He was always out, always busy. She wasn't sure if he was avoiding the house, avoiding her, or if he just had his own battles to fight.

Either way, she was alone.

---

Meanwhile, across the city...

Kendrick stepped through the front door of their home, dropping his bag by the entrance. Behind him, his younger sister, Levy, followed with an exhausted sigh.

"Finally home," Levy mumbled, kicking off her shoes. "Mom's still on duty, so it's just us tonight."

Kendrick barely acknowledged her, already heading toward his room.

Once inside, he locked the door, sat at his desk, and powered on his laptop. His fingers moved quickly, plugging in a flash drive—his last remaining access to Level 6 files from The Archive.

As soon as he clicked the folder, his screen flickered.

[Error: File Corrupted]

His jaw tightened. He tried another document. Corrupted. Another. Corrupted.

A hollow chuckle left his lips as he ran a hand through his hair.

As expected of The Archive.

Even the files he had managed to download were now completely useless. They weren't supposed to have access to that information anymore—and The Archive made sure of it.

Leaning back in his chair, he exhaled sharply.

"Dammit."

There was no choice but to start over. Again. From Level 0.

His mind drifted to Eclipse.

She must be furious.

If their roles were reversed, he'd be cursing her name too. They were so close to the truth—only to fail at the last moment.

And it was his fault.

He collapsed first. He was the one who had been too weak to continue.

What he didn't know was that, at that exact moment, Eclipse was thinking the same thing.

Blaming herself for failing.

Both unaware that they had collapsed at the same time.

---

[178 Days Left to Live]

Zephany adjusted the strap of her bag as she stepped into the towering glass building of Air Media. The newsroom was already bustling with reporters and editors, the air filled with the clicking of keyboards and ringing of phones.

She wove through the desks until she reached her own, where Pia Clarkson, her friend and deskmate, immediately turned to her with wide eyes.

"Zeph! Finally! Where the hell have you been?" Pia blurted out, pushing her glasses up. "I heard you were in the hospital! Why didn't you tell me? I would've visited!"

Zephany hesitated at the sudden barrage of concern. She forced a small, awkward smile. "Ah... yeah. Just overworked, I guess. Nothing serious."

Before Pia could respond, a sharp voice cut through the newsroom.

"Zephany! My office. Now."

Zephany barely had time to react before Faren Davidson, her boss, disappeared into his office.

Pia gave her a sympathetic look. "Good luck."

With a sigh, Zephany stood and made her way inside.

The moment she entered, Faren shut the door and turned to face her with crossed arms.

"Do you still want this job?" he asked bluntly.

Zephany swallowed hard. "Of course, I—"

"Then start acting like it!" Faren cut her off. "You've been working here for years, and not once have you landed a major scoop. You're a celebrity journalist, not some nobody writing filler articles!"

Zephany clenched her fists. She wanted to argue, but she knew he was right.

She was slacking off. But it wasn't because she was lazy—it was because she spent more time chasing missions than gossip.

Faren sighed, rubbing his temples. "Listen, I don't have time to waste on reporters who don't deliver. If your performance is still at the bottom by the end of the month, you're fired."

Zephany left the office without a word.

By the time she returned to her desk, she felt completely drained. But just as she slumped into her chair, something caught her eye.

An envelope.

Not just any envelope—an elegant one, edged with gold.

She frowned, picking it up. Her name was written on the front.

Miss Zephany Draven.

She carefully opened it and unfolded the invitation inside. It was for an exclusive event hosted by Cassius Varen.

The name didn't ring a bell.

Then, something strange happened.

The paper smelled... different. Almost metallic.

A realization struck her.

She turned the paper toward the light—and a hidden message appeared.

To: Eclipse

If you want the information from twelve years ago, attend the event and agree to my offer.

Her breath caught in her throat.

Her father.

Twelve years ago...

Her heart pounded as she immediately glanced around the newsroom.

Th𝗲 most uptodate novels are published on ƒгeewёbnovel.com.

Who put this on her desk?

How did they know her codename?

---

At the same time, across the city...

Kendrick sat on the couch in his art studio. The small space was once his father's workshop—a place where he used to teach children how to paint. But Kendrick never took students.

He preferred to paint alone.

As he reached for a sketchbook, his eyes landed on an envelope.

Gold-edged. Elegant. His name written in neat cursive.

He slowly picked it up and opened it.

Inside, an invitation.

A wealthy, mysterious man—Cassius Varen—was hosting an event.

But that wasn't the part that made his blood run cold.

There was something else.

A scent. A metallic trace in the ink.

He held the paper toward the light, and hidden words appeared.

To: Obscura

If you want the information from twelve years ago, attend the event and agree to my offer.

Kendrick's grip on the paper tightened.

Twelve years ago.

That was when everything changed.

And now, someone knew.