Grace hadn't spoken to Julian since that night. The weight of his secrets still sat heavy on her chest. Each message from him went unread. Each memory, tainted. Her world hadn't crumbled. It had quietly, efficiently rearranged itself.
And in the middle of that new world, stood Silas Vale.
She didn't know why his name now stirred something in her. Maybe it was the timing. Maybe it was the absence of pretense when he looked at her, as if he already knew her shadows. As if he welcomed them.
Ever since the industry gala, Silas had lingered in her thoughts like a melody she couldn't shake. That smile, the intensity behind his eyes, the way he didn't flinch when meeting her gaze, all of it disrupted the clean edges of her control. Julian had tried to win her with effort; Silas did it by simply existing.
There was something dangerous about that.
The morning after she deleted Julian's number, Grace opened her apartment door to find a box. Elegant. Understated. And dangerous.
Inside were lilies. Not red roses or wildflowers, but lilies. White and pink, arranged with precision. There was a note tucked between the petals.
"I hope you like lilies. Let me take you somewhere quieter than the noise of all this. ~ S"
Grace stared at the note for a long time.
She didn't smile. But she didn't frown either.
Silas Vale wasn't playing games. He wasn't dropping compliments or trying to win her over like the others. He was presenting himself, layer by layer, like a dark riddle wrapped in silk. And she didn't know why, but she was tempted to solve it.
That night, Grace sat across Eva on the terrace.
"Silas Vale sent me flowers," she said, sipping her wine.
Eva raised a brow. "You're not a flower girl."
"I know. But lilies... they're quiet. Pretty. Clean."
Eva leaned back. "You're thinking about saying yes."
"I don't know what I'm thinking," Grace whispered.
"You should be scared of a man like that."
"What if I'm not?"
Eva's gaze sharpened. "Then you're not thinking with your head."
But it was already too late.
Grace texted the number from the card.
Grace: "Where do you want to take me?"
No reply came for an hour. Then, at 1:13 AM:
Silas: "Somewhere only we'll know."
Across the city, Silas stood at the window of his penthouse, phone in hand, her text glowing like a holy verse.
He'd waited. He'd watched. Now she was willingly stepping into the narrative he'd written for them. She still didn't know how much of her life he already lived inside, but she would.
The lilies hadn't been a gesture. They'd been a signature. A mark.
He remembered what he read in her diary, the softness she craved. The romantic gestures she never admitted out loud. And now, he was giving her all of it. Not by accident, but by design.
Soon, there would be no space between them. Only fate, obsession, and the illusion of choice.
He watched the security feed on his screen as Grace curled up on her couch, the flowers still in her lap, fingers absentmindedly trailing over the petals. Her face held no expression, but Silas knew her well enough by now. She was thinking.
He zoomed in on her lips as they pressed against the rim of a wine glass, the light casting shadows along her cheekbones. She looked unreal, untouchable.
But she wasn't. Not anymore.
She was in his garden now.
And like every flower, she'd bloom exactly when he willed it.
He reached out, trailing his fingers along the screen.
"Soon," he whispered. "Soon, you'll know I've always been yours."
And as Grace finally laid her head back, a faint smile ghosting her lips, Silas leaned back too, his obsession fed, for now.