Chapter 5

Selene's climbing suit was wrecked. Her hair was tangled from the wind. All the commanding arrogance was gone. She looked panicked and small.

Caleb's head was down. The flush from before had drained out of his face. He was shaking hard. The down jacket he'd stripped off me looked obscene on him.

As we passed, Caleb lifted his head. Panic and pleading flooded his face.

"Ethan! Ethan, I was wrong! Selene made me! She told me to swap your oxygen, she told me to take your gear! She said if anything happened to you, I'd be lead photographer at the studio, and she'd have full control of the team!"

Selene's head snapped around. Her voice went shrill and out of control.

"You lying piece of— it was you, scheming, eyeing Ethan's position and name! Caleb, don't you dare dump this on me!"

"You started it!"

Caleb lost it. He tried to lunge at her. The crew held him down.

"You said Ethan was in your way! You said your father sponsors the magazine, you could bury anything! You said the studio would be ours!"

They were like two dogs tearing at each other, spilling out every ugly thing they'd been hiding under the polished surface.

Marcus frowned and ordered the crew flatly.

"Separate them! Isolated cells, individual questioning! Not here!"

I lay on the stretcher watching their twisted faces. Whatever tenderness had still been in me for them went cold and dead.

The old promises, the years of building something together, the love for photography — next to ambition and envy, all of it was as fragile as fresh snow. One gust and it was gone.

The hyperbaric chamber smelled like antiseptic and metal. The IV line dripped, marking time toward the truth.

I lay on the bed with frostbite still burning along my skin, wrapped in thick dressings.

The doctor said it was a near thing. Without the fast rescue, the hyperbaric treatment, the rewarming — my brain and limbs would have taken irreversible damage from the oxygen deprivation and cold.

Early the next morning, Marcus came in with the investigation team.

He set a stack of printed logs and analysis reports on my bedside table. His tone was serious.

"We've pulled all the GoPro footage and audio from your team, pulled the sat phone records and recordings, and interviewed the other assistants and the guide. The chain of evidence is solid."

He opened the report. The first page was audio of Selene instructing Caleb to swap my oxygen.

The device had captured her voice clearly, low and deliberate.

"...swap out his special high-concentration tank for a regular one — no, just switch it for a helium canister, give him a little surprise. I'm sick of that smug look on his face..."

"And this."

Marcus pulled up another clip. Caleb's collar GoPro.

On screen, Selene was watching me struggle, answering the guide who tried to intervene.

"...Leave him. He won't die, he's faking... after the shoot, then we'll deal with it..."

I clenched my fist. My nails dug into my palm.

She'd seen me as a roadblock a long time ago. Whatever she called love had been eaten hollow by envy and hunger for control.

One of the lead investigators added more.

"We also traced the studio's recent cash flow and communications. Selene used her father's sponsorship status to quietly move studio assets into a newly registered company, co-controlled by her and Caleb."

"She's also been in secret contact with several competitors. It looks like once she pushed you out, she planned to jump ship with the core resources and clients."

"The shoot?" I remembered suddenly. My voice was still weak. "Did they get the material? The cover..."

"Don't worry. We've seized all of your shoot cards as evidence. But the last few shots you took, in that extreme state — they caught something unusual. Light, texture, the feel of the mountain. The editorial team was floored. They're running a curated selection. The cover won't go blank."

Marcus handed me warm water.

"As for Selene and Caleb, they're still pointing at each other under separate questioning. Selene says it was just a joke, she didn't know it would escalate, and Caleb misread her and acted on his own. Caleb swears he was coerced and directed by Selene."

I gave a cold laugh.

"How could she not know? She's been climbing with me for years. She's seen altitude sickness kill people. She wanted to use Caleb's hands to make me disappear so she could take over cleanly and run her little 'new venture.'"

While we were talking, the door swung open. A middle-aged man in expensive outdoor gear walked in, his face drawn tight with urgency.

Selene's father. Victor.

He didn't acknowledge Marcus or the investigators. He went straight to my bedside, voice deliberately warm.

"Ethan, I heard you had a bad scare. I came as soon as I could. My daughter is young, willful, she got dragged along by that Caleb boy. She was wrong, I've already scolded her. For the sake of all your years together, don't take it to heart. Whatever the studio lost, I'll cover..."

I glanced at his empty hands and didn't say anything.

Marcus stood, his voice turning formal.

"Mr. Crowley, this is a medical area. No visitors. Also — the investigation team has already opened a case against your daughter for malicious harm, commercial fraud, and illegal transfer of assets. We'll need your cooperation with some questions about the studio's finances."

Victor's smile froze. His face turned ugly.

"Marcus, do we really need to take it this far? Young people quarrel. Settle it privately! I'm the main sponsor. Dragging this out won't help the magazine's reputation either!"

"What we defend is the reputation of truth and fairness."

Marcus took out a document.

"Based on current evidence, Selene and Caleb's actions rise to criminal charges before the Council. This is not a simple quarrel.