Chapter 4: The Invitation

They said Rivière was waiting.

He was.

The car slid down the marina, past super yachts the size of office buildings. We pulled directly onto the pier.

The yacht at the end didn’t have a name printed on the stern. It didn’t need one.

It wasn’t just big. It was absurd. A floating fortress.

At the top of the gangway, two men waited in tailored black. No questions. No searches. They knew who I was. Or at least, who they believed I had become.

Inside, it was colder. Not in temperature. In presence.

No glitter. No flash.

Just silence. Precision. Spaces too perfect to feel accidental.

Lighting that didn’t cast shadows. Art on the walls with no titles, no frames.

I followed my silent escort through the ship until we stepped onto the rear deck.

And there he was.

Rivière.

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Sitting alone at a small table that looked almost ridiculous against the endless deck.

Grey suit. White shirt. No tie. No logos.

He sipped something amber from a heavy glass and didn’t stand as I approached.

Next to him, another glass, already poured, already waiting.

He gestured toward it.

“For you.”

Then to the chair opposite him.

“Please.”

His voice was smooth. Low. Measured.

I sat.

The sea glittered hard behind him.

He watched me for a long moment without speaking. Not studying. Not judging. Just seeing.

Finally, he spoke.

“You’ve worn the mask well.”

He set his glass down, the sound sharp against the silence.

“Better than we expected.”

I said nothing.

He continued.

“The poker game was never about the money.

Money is cheap. The room wanted to see how you carried it. How you folded. How you waited. How you won.”

He smiled faintly.

“And you passed.”

Then he leaned back, fingertips steepled lightly.

“Now, the watch.”

He said it without looking at my wrist, but I could feel the weight of it pulsing.

“Three were made. One was seized. One disappeared. And yours… found its way onto your wrist.”

He smiled again. Wider this time.

“A ghost, wearing a crown he didn’t even know he owned.”

He leaned forward now, voice lower.

“We need them reunited. And you, you are the only man who can find the others.”

I swallowed the air carefully.

“And if I don’t?”

He didn’t flinch.

“You could leave.”

A pause.

“Walk back into whatever life you remember. But the world you stepped into, the life you wore so easily, it would disappear just as easily.”

He tilted his head.

“Or stay. Help us. And the life you thought you were pretending to live… becomes yours.”

He stood, smoothing the line of his jacket with precision, and turned toward the sea.

“You’ve already proven you can carry the weight.”

His voice was almost kind now.

“All that remains is deciding if you want to.”

I stayed seated.

The watch heavy on my wrist.

The sea blinding behind him.

In my jacket pocket, the cream card Elise had given me in Geneva pressed quietly against my ribs.

The door was still there.

Maybe.

If I had the strength to open it.

But sitting there, facing Rivière, it was hard to remember who I had been before.

Some doors don’t open twice.

And some masks, worn long enough, stop being masks at all.