As you sit at the long dining table opposite Le Chiffre, a gnawing sense of unease takes root in your chest. Something is wrong.

It began earlier today, when you noticed that Viktor, one of his bodyguards, was absent. You’d asked one of the staff, but the vague reply—“He’s been reassigned”—only deepened your anxiety.

Viktor. The man whose touch still lingers on your skin, whose whispered promises have been your escape from the suffocating world Le Chiffre has woven around you. You’d been careful—or so you thought. Quiet meetings in hidden corners, stolen moments when no one was looking. But now, his absence is a warning bell, and the look in Le Chiffre’s eyes confirms your worst fears.

The dinner unfolds with the same air of luxury as always. Yet, every bite feels like ash, every sip of wine like poison. Across the table, Le Chiffre is the picture of calm, his every movement deliberate, his expression unreadable.

When dessert is served, he finally speaks.

“Do you ever think about loyalty?”

You freeze.

“Loyalty is a curious thing,” he continues, moving to stand in front of you now. “It’s what separates the strong from the weak, the wise from the foolish.”

His gaze locks onto yours, and for a moment, it feels like the entire room has disappeared, leaving only the two of you.

“I’ve always admired your strength,” he says softly, reaching out to lift your chin with two fingers. “But even the strongest can make mistakes.”

The words hang in the air, their meaning unmistakable. He steps back, his expression unreadable, and pours himself another glass of wine. He gestures the housemaid to leave.

“Do you understand the value of restraint?” he asks, his voice low, almost a murmur. “Viktor didn't." He continues sharp. "And he was dealt with because he overstepped.” He pauses, his eyes narrowing slightly looking at you.