Silas stood in front of the wall of monitors in his apartment, fists clenched so tightly his knuckles had turned white. Every camera he'd secretly installed in Grace's apartment was functioning perfectly. Every feed was clear.
But Grace was gone.
Not just out for coffee or wrapped in work calls, gone. No trace. No signals. No schedule breaches. And she hadn't answered his last five messages. The silence on her end wasn't just quiet, it was calculated.
He raked a hand through his hair, pacing like a caged animal, heart hammering against his ribcage. His jaw tightened as he stared at the screen showing the empty hallway outside her apartment.
"She's with someone," he muttered. "She has to be."
The thought seared like acid.
Every part of him, obsessive, possessive, territorial, flared with primal fury. It wasn't just about her vanishing. It was about her choosing to vanish from him.
And choosing someone else?
He slammed his fist into the console, the plastic cracking beneath his rage. Grace knew how to push him, how to make him spiral, and she was doing it now. Intentionally. Deliberately.
Where the hell are you, Grace?
Back at the hidden warehouse, Julian's head drooped as the echo of footsteps neared again. His body was sore, wrists bruised from the restraints, but he hadn't said a word since the two voices visited him.
He didn't need to anymore.
Because now, one of them had returned. The second voice, the melodic one.
"You always were stubborn," the woman said, her heels clicking slowly as she stepped into the dim halo of light. She removed the modulation device. The shadows unveiled her slowly, black ponytail, calm gaze, red-painted nails.
Grace.
Julian's breath hitched. "You…"
"Hello, Julian," she said softly, almost kindly.
He stared at her like she was a mirage.
Eva followed, arms crossed, gaze cold.
Julian's lips trembled. "Why? Why would you...?"
"You were never meant to be in this part of the story," Grace interrupted. Her tone was cool, almost bored. "You played the wrong cards."
He looked at Eva, as if begging for an explanation, but she just shrugged.
Grace walked to him, crouched at eye level. "You asked who Silas really is. You wanted the truth."
"I thought he was the villain," Julian rasped. "I was trying to protect you."
She laughed, light and bitter. "You think you know him? I created him."
Julian blinked. "What...?"
"I brought him into this story," she said, circling him now. "Every move he's made, every line he's crossed, he thought he was chasing me. But he was following the path I laid out."
Julian stared, horror blooming in his chest.
"He was never the puppet master," Grace whispered. "He was the puppet."
It started with a whisper, a quiet suggestion into the ear of a mutual friend, a subtle invitation sent to Silas's PR team about a project in Riverton, and then a Gala that would broaden Silas's connections. Grace made sure he'd see her there, but only at a distance. Dressed in emerald, dripping in quiet allure, she stood beneath a chandelier, letting the flickering light catch her like a dream half-remembered.
He watched her that night. She didn't speak to him. Didn't even look his way. But she knew he had taken the bait.
Days later, her name would surface in the dossiers his team collected. Not too much. Just enough. A curated public profile, a few social campaigns, a whisper of tragedy. All planted. All sculpted.
She moved through Riverton like a specter, always visible but never reachable. When he followed her, she let him. When he installed cameras, she let him. She had her own, hidden deeper, sharper, more loyal than his ever would be.
He thought he was infiltrating her life. In truth, he was being guided, tugged gently along strings he couldn't see.
And the diary about the gentle love she had been craving, all a facade.
He thought he had caught her sleeping that night, curled beside him in fragile exhaustion. But she'd heard his breath hitch, felt his arm tremble as he reached for her. She had to keep her breathing steady. Pretend. Endure.
She let him touch her hair. Let him think she was his.
But she wasn't asleep. She was listening. Memorizing. Controlling.
She made him believe he had her.
And all the while, he never saw the scalpel in her hand.
Eva leaned against the wall. "And you just couldn't leave it alone, could you?"
"You think I wanted to ruin anything?" Julian said, voice breaking. "I cared about you."
"That's the problem," Grace said softly. "You were never supposed to care. You were just supposed to watch."
She stepped back. "But now you've seen too much. And I can't risk you ruining what comes next."
Julian swallowed. "What is next?"
She tilted her head, smiling.
"You'll see."
Then the door shut again. Darkness returned.
And Julian, chained and shaking, realized he was never trying to save Grace.
He was trying to survive her.