Caliste stepped out of the building, her coat pulled close around her. The streetlights reflected against the wet pavement as her heels clicked rhythmically.
She was supposed to head home straight after her checkup, but her mind was elsewhere.. the result she still couldn't believe, the weight she now carried in secret.
Across the street, in a black sedan parked near the curb, two men watched her closely.
"She leaves the office around this time every day," the driver murmured, adjusting the zoom lens of his camera. "The boss said she's under no surveillance from Velmore security. That makes our job easier."
The man in the passenger seat ..the same one who visited Desmund Winslow in prison ...didn't respond at first. He simply stared at the photo of Caliste clipped to a file. "She doesn't look like a threat," he said finally.
The driver smirked. "None of them do. Until they become the weapon."
The passenger closed the file and said coldly, "We move soon. The order came straight from Winslow...she must be taken quietly. No traces. No noise."
He rolled down the window slightly, letting the rain hit his hand. "Lucian Velmore will learn what it means to lose everything he's tried to protect."
---
Meanwhile, in his penthouse, Lucian Velmore stood by the window overlooking the city skyline. His tie hung loose around his neck, a glass of whiskey untouched on the table.
For days, something inside him felt… off. Like a whisper he couldn't ignore.
He ran a hand through his hair, his mind replaying the brief, heated moment he shared with Caliste... her warmth, her trembling lips, the way she fled after. He told himself it was better this way, that he had to keep his distance. But the memory lingered, defying reason.
A soft knock interrupted his thoughts.
"Come in," he said, turning.
His assistant entered, hesitating. "Sir, we received a report from the security team. There were unfamiliar vehicles seen outside the building the last two nights. No plates, no records in the parking registry."
Lucian frowned. "Unfamiliar vehicles?"
"Yes, sir. They left after Miss Winslow did."
Lucian's expression darkened immediately. His heartbeat quickened... a mix of instinct and dread. "And you're telling me this now?"
The assistant stammered, "I thought it was just coincidence, sir. But today, the same car appeared again near her apartment complex."
Lucian's jaw tightened. He turned to the window, eyes narrowing as if he could see through the skyline.
"Double her security," he ordered. "Quietly. I don't want her knowing. And track that car."
"Yes, Mr. Velmore."
The assistant exited quickly, leaving Lucian alone once more.
He placed a hand on the glass, watching the storm gather outside. The wind howled, rattling the windows.
"Whoever's watching her," he murmured under his breath, "they'll regret it."
-----
The following week unfolded like a careful performance...
routine, deliberate, and painfully ordinary on the surface.
Caliste Winslow had no idea that every step she took was being watched.
Every morning when she left her apartment, a pair of eyes followed from the parked sedan across the street.
Every evening, when she returned home exhausted from work, the same car appeared again... silent, unassuming, blending perfectly with the city lights.
Inside that car, the watchers of Desmund Winslow rotated in shifts. They reported to the man in the passenger seat...the one who once delivered the message to the detention cell.
"She's keeping a low profile," one of them reported while scrolling through photos on a tablet. "Mostly home to office, office to home. Sometimes visits the café near Velmore Tower. No suspicious contact except for one...Caelum Vellaria."
The name earned a slight lift of an eyebrow.
"The cousin?"
"Yes, sir. Visits her frequently, sometimes brings her lunch or dinner. They seem… close."
The man stared at the picture of Caliste smiling faintly as Caelum handed her a paper bag. His eyes gleamed, cold and unreadable.
"Good," he murmured. "Let her feel safe. The more routine she keeps, the easier it'll be to take her."
---
In her office, Caliste sat behind a wide table filled with fabric samples, sketches, and portfolios for the upcoming winter collection.
Her hand instinctively reached to her abdomen for a brief moment... a silent gesture of both disbelief and protection.
She had gone to work as usual, pretending nothing had changed, though inside she was a storm of emotions she couldn't share with anyone.
A knock on the door broke her thoughts.
"Come in," she said softly.
Caelum stepped in, tall and effortlessly composed, carrying a paper bag in one hand and two cups of tea in the other.
"I brought your lunch again," he said with a teasing grin. "And before you say anything... no, you can't say no. You've been skipping breakfast. The baby needs nutrients"
Caliste smiled faintly. "You shouldn't keep doing this. You have work too, Caelum."
"I manage my time well," he replied smoothly, setting the bag on her desk. "Besides, this is my excuse to see you."
She gave him a pointed look, but there was warmth in her eyes. "You're too kind. But I'm fine, really."
He sat on the couch across from her, unbothered. "Fine doesn't mean healthy. You've lost weight."
Caliste chuckled lightly. "Now you sound like my doctor."
Caelum leaned back, arms folded, studying her face with quiet admiration. "If I were, I'd prescribe rest and good food. Both of which you seem allergic to."
She shook her head, pretending to be busy arranging sketches. "You're impossible."
"I'm persistent," he corrected. "There's a difference."
For a moment, there was silence...a calm, almost domestic quiet that filled the room. Caliste tried to keep her distance emotionally, but Caelum's gentle care was slowly melting her defenses. He never pushed her. He never demanded anything. He was just… there.
And that scared her.
---
Outside the building, one of Desmund's spies leaned against a parked car, pretending to read a newspaper. Through the reflection of the glass doors, he caught sight of Caelum exiting the office.
He raised a small camera, snapping a few photos quickly.
"Send this to the boss," he said through his earpiece.
Meanwhile, another watcher in a delivery uniform walked past Caliste's car in the basement parking, attaching a small tracker under the rear bumper before walking away casually.
Unseen. Unheard.
---
Lucian Velmore hadn't attended a board meeting in two days.
He told his staff he was reviewing overseas contracts, but the truth was..he couldn't stop thinking about Caliste.
From his office window, he could see part of the design department floor below. Once in a while, he caught sight of her...her brown hair tied neatly, her posture graceful as always.
He clenched his jaw.
He had told himself it was over. That he couldn't risk the pain again. That she had made her choice long ago.
And yet…
When he saw Caelum visiting her almost daily...walking beside her in the lobby, laughing, carrying food for her jealousy burned in his chest like acid.
He tried to ignore it at first. But every time he saw Caelum's easy smile and Caliste's soft laughter, something primal twisted inside him.
During one afternoon meeting, he wasn't even listening to the presentation. His assistant had to tap his shoulder twice before he realized someone was calling his name.
"Mr. Velmore, are you all right?"
Lucian nodded curtly. "Continue."
But his mind wasn't there. His thoughts kept circling back to one question that tormented him:
Is she starting to move on?
--
That night, Caliste stayed late again, finishing reports. She rubbed her temples, feeling the exhaustion weighing on her. When she finally packed up to leave, she noticed a food container on her desk... neatly arranged, labeled with her name.
A small note sat beside it.
> "You'll forget to eat again. So here. — Caelum"
She smiled faintly, placing the note inside her drawer.
She was grateful for his kindness, but she also knew that accepting too much of it might give him hope... a hope she couldn't return.
Her phone vibrated.
A text message from an unknown number.
> "You should be careful walking home alone, Miss Winslow."
Her heart skipped. She immediately looked around her office, her pulse racing. The hallway was empty, only the faint sound of the cleaning crew echoing.
She took a deep breath, trying to calm her nerves. It's just a prank, she told herself. Maybe a wrong number.
But when she left the building and stepped outside, she couldn't shake the feeling of being watched. Her eyes scanned the parking lot shadows stretched under the streetlights, cars glistening from the afternoon rain. Nothing unusual.
Still, she hurried into her car and locked the doors before driving away.
---
The next morning, Lucian received an update from his private security team.
"Sir," one of the men reported, "we identified two vehicles tailing Miss Winslow for the past three days. We're tracking them quietly."
Lucian's expression hardened. "Do they know she's being followed?"
"No, sir. She's unaware."
Lucian turned away, his tone low and cold. "Keep it that way. And if they make a move, I want them handled.. discreetly."
"Yes, Mr. Velmore."
After the guard left, Lucian stared at the reflection of his own face in the dark glass of his office. His jealousy, his anger, his fear... they all merged into something he couldn't quite name.
He told himself he was only protecting her because of Lucca... because she was the mother of his child.
But deep down, he knew the truth was crueler.
He still loved her.
Madly. Desperately. Painfully.
And watching her from afar.. seeing her laugh with Caelum, seeing her walk away from him day after day...was a torment he couldn't escape.
---
Three nights later, the watchers reported to Desmund's man again.
"She's consistent," one said. "Office, home, hospital checkups, coffee with Caelum. No bodyguards close to her except the discreet ones the Velmores assigned."
"Good," the leader said. "Then soon, we'll take her. Just make sure Velmore doesn't get a hint."
He looked through the window of his office, the city lights flickering in his dark eyes.
"Desmund may be in prison," he muttered, "but his reach isn't."
---
That same evening, Lucian drove aimlessly through the city. He didn't know where he was going his mind simply pulled him toward the direction of her apartment.
He parked a few blocks away and sat in silence, watching the dimly lit windows of her building.
Up there, Caliste was probably sketching, or reading, or maybe already asleep.
He leaned back, closing his eyes, and whispered to the night,
"I can't lose you again."
Unseen by both of them, a man across the street raised his camera snapping another photo of Lucian's car outside Caliste's building.
He smirked. "Perfect."
And somewhere in a dark cell, Desmund Winslow smiled when the image reached his phone.
"Let the game begin," he said.