I couldn't sleep that night. Fear sinks its claws into me.
The gun sat on my nightstand like a dark augury. Its cold presence made everything real. No more pretending.
No more detachment. Brenton was close, close enough to photograph me through a window.
And Alexander… he handed me a weapon like it was nothing.
Like it was normal.
Like this was my life now.
I kept on thinking while I stared at the ceiling until dawn, then dressed in silence and made my way downstairs. Alexander was already up, dressed in a pristine black suit, typing away on his phone as if nothing was going on.
"You need to be at the charity hospital by ten," he said without looking up.
"They're expecting Mrs. Pierce to smile and pretend she gives a damn about sick kids."
"Maybe I actually do," I muttered.
He looked up.
His expression was unreadable.
"This isn't the time to start caring." He said coldly.
"I'm not like you," I said, acting all bold.
He stood, buttoned his jacket, and majestically walked past me.
"No," he said without a whiff of warmth. "You're weak. And weakness gets people killed."
The words hit me like a slap.
He literally read through every part of me.
But I didn't flinch. Not this time.
"Funny," I whispered. "I used to think money made people powerful. Then I met you."
He stopped. Turned. His jaw tightened. "Be ready in ten minutes. And wipe that look off your face before we walk through those hospital doors."
We arrived at the charity event like royalty.
Flashbulbs. Smiling doctors.
Reporters asking shallow questions. Alexander held my waist with a performative grip, whispering soft nothings for the cameras.
I faked a smile, and he murmured through his teeth. "You look like you're mourning a corpse."
"Well maybe I am," I whispered back.
The flash caught my profile perfectly like I was happy. Like I was safe.
Inside, the children's wing was bright and painted with murals. Nurses guided them from bed to bed. Alexander posed for photos, after donating a large check, and successfully charmed every person in sight.
Meanwhile, my only focus was the kids. Their tiny hands. Their hope. Their strength. It was the only thing that didn't feel like a performance.
But halfway through, my phone buzzed.
Unknown Number: "You look beautiful in blue. I almost missed that color on you."
My blood ran cold.
I looked around. Cameras. Doctors. Patients.
No Brenton. No sign of him.
Just the message. And the unmistakable chill in my bones.
Alexander noticed instantly.
"What now?" he asked, his voice low.
I showed him the message.
His smile didn't falter. But his hand tightened on my arm.
"We're leaving," he said.
"But the—"
"I said now."
Back in the car, silence crackled like electricity.
"Change your number," Alexander said. "Now."
"I already did. Twice."
"Then we cut your SIM and go encrypted."
I stared out the window. "Why won't he stop?"
Alexander's jaw flexed. "Because he enjoys fear. And right now, you're bleeding it."
I turned to him. "And what? Do you think I should become like you? Cold? Numb?"
He didn't answer.
I laughed bitterly. "Right. Of course not. God forbid your fake wife feels anything."
"You think I don't feel?" he snapped, voice sharper than glass.
I stared at him in amazement. It was the first time I heard him raise his voice.
"I personally watched my mother choke on her blood because my father refused to leave the business," he said, voice low but shaking. Tragic yea? Well "I buried emotions with her. Because in my world, feeling gets you killed."
I blinked.
For a moment, spotted something almost human in his eyes.
Then it was gone.
"You're not in love with him, are you?" he asked suddenly.
I jerked. "What?"
"Brenton. Are you still attached?"
I laughed. "He tried to kill me, Alexander."
"That's not a no."
I looked away. "He was my first. The one who made me believe in fairy tales."
"And then shattered them."
"Yes."
"So tell me again why you're still scared."
I turned, eyes burning. "Because I survived him once. And you don't survive the same monster twice."
We returned to the penthouse.
A team of techs installed new surveillance inside and out. Alexander barked orders, repositioned guards, and added biometric locks.
I sat on the edge of the couch, clutching the encrypted phone Alexander handed me.
"This is your new number," he said. "No one gets it except me. If it rings, you answer. If it's not me you run."
"I'm not a spy," I said softly.
"No. You're bait."
My eyes widened. "What?"
He didn't repeat it. Just walked away.
Later that night, I stood on the balcony again. The wind was whipping my dress. Thoughts circling like vultures.
And then, his voice was behind me.
"I meant what I said."
I didn't turn.
"You're bait?"
"I don't want him gone," Alexander said.
"I want him desperately. Reckless. I want him to come for you so I can end it on my terms."
I spun around. "You're using me."
"I'm protecting my investment."
"No. You're hunting him. I'm just the lure."
He stepped closer. "He broke you. And that pisses me off more than I expected."
I stared up at him. "Why?"
He didn't answer.
Instead, he reached out fingers brushing my cheekbone.
Not for the cameras. Not for a crowd.
Something in his expression cracked.
"So far I've noticed that you're stronger than you think," he said. "But if you want to stay alive, you have to stop hoping, or rather thinking that this world will play fair."
I closed my eyes.
"I don't know who scares me more anymore," I whispered. "Brenton… or you."
Alexander's jaw twitched.
"I can live with that," he said.
Then he walked away leaving me alone with the wind and the weight of my choices.