Helena stepped into the city boutique, hoping to find some peace among fabrics and lace. But the designer had news that would shake her even more.
"Did you know I made a dress for another one of Nathaniel's fiancées?" she said with a sad smile. "Her name was Evelyn. She disappeared right before the wedding."
A chill ran down Helena's spine. Not just because of the story, but because of the echo of loneliness that seemed to linger in the boutique.
That night, Helena couldn't bear the weight of what she'd learned. She went looking for Julian at the mansion, drawn to him by the need for answers—and by the note she had just received.
When she found him in the library, their eyes met, and words were no longer necessary.
Without speaking, Julian pulled her into his arms. The touch of his lips was a momentary relief, a pause in the storm they were living through.
"You're the only one who understands what it's like to be trapped in this cage," Julian whispered against her neck.
She answered by holding him tightly, allowing the uncertainty to fade, if only for a few minutes.
But when the passion quieted, Helena remembered the anonymous message she had received:
"You will be the next Evelyn."
Fear crept back into her chest.
"Julian… what if someone wants me to disappear?" she said, her voice trembling.
He looked into her eyes, serious.
"I won't let that happen. Not without a fight."
The embrace tightened, a silent promise that whatever came next—they would face it together.