Morning arrived too gently for the weight inside Liora's chest.
Soft sunlight slipped through the curtains, pale and innocent, as if the world had no knowledge of midnight meetings, dangerous silences, or the quiet wars hidden inside a single human heart.
She had slept eventually—
but not deeply.
Dreams had followed her through the night, blurred images of three different voices calling her name in three different ways.
By the time her alarm rang, exhaustion still clung to her skin like something she couldn't wash away.
Today would be busy.
Interviews.
Meetings.
Photographs.
Fame never allowed rest for long.
Her phone screen lit up before she even left the bed.
A message.
Jace.
Good morning ☀️
Did you sleep well?
I made breakfast… just in case you forgot to eat again.
Her fingers stilled above the screen.
Of course he had.
Jace Wilder noticed the smallest things—
the ones no one else thought important.
Whether she had eaten.
Whether she looked tired.
Whether her smile reached her eyes.
The quiet care in those details felt… dangerous in a completely different way.
Because kindness was harder to resist than desire.
I'm awake now, she typed.
You didn't have to make breakfast.
The reply came almost instantly.
I wanted to.
A simple answer.
No pressure.
No hidden meaning.
Just him.
Her chest tightened slightly.
This was exactly why she had never planned to let things go this far.
An hour later, she stepped out of the elevator into the private underground parking area of her building.
Jace was already there.
He wasn't dressed like an idol today—
just a loose white shirt, dark jeans, a cap pulled low to hide his face.
Ordinary.
Almost invisible.
But when he saw her, his entire expression brightened with a warmth no disguise could hide.
And something inside her… softened in response.
"You came down," he said, smiling like it was the best part of his morning.
"I said I would."
"I know. I just like hearing you keep your promises."
The words were gentle, but they landed deeper than he probably intended.
Promises.
If he knew how many she was already breaking…
He held out a small paper bag.
"Breakfast."
"You really didn't have to."
"I know," he said again, softer this time. "I just wanted to."
She accepted it carefully, as if the warmth inside might spill.
The smell of fresh bread and something sweet drifted up, simple and comforting in a way luxury never managed to be.
"Thank you, Jace."
Her voice came out quieter than expected.
His smile softened.
"You look tired."
"I had interviews late."
A lie.
Not complete, but still a lie.
Guilt flickered—small, sharp, impossible to ignore.
Jace nodded, concern clear in his eyes.
"Don't push yourself too hard. The industry takes enough already."
If only he knew how much she was willing to give.
Or take.
They sat on a low concrete barrier near the wall, hidden from cameras, sharing the quiet like something fragile and private.
For a few minutes, neither of them spoke.
And strangely…
the silence felt peaceful.
No tension.
No heat.
No danger waiting underneath every word.
Just calm.
She took a small bite of the bread, warmth spreading slowly through her chest.
Simple things shouldn't feel this rare.
"Your award speech was perfect," Jace said softly.
"I was shaking the whole time."
"I know."
He smiled a little. "That's why it was perfect. It felt real."
Real.
Another dangerous word.
Because nothing about her life was truly real anymore.
He hesitated slightly before speaking again.
"…Are you happy?"
The same question Adrian had asked.
But it sounded different from Jace.
Not searching.
Not careful.
Just honest.
She looked down at the food in her hands, sunlight catching the edge of the paper bag.
Was she happy?
She had fame.
Power.
A future finally within reach.
And yet…
her heart felt more complicated than ever.
"I think so," she said quietly.
Jace studied her face, like he was trying to read the truth she didn't say aloud.
He didn't push.
He never pushed.
Instead, he nodded once, accepting even the incomplete answer.
"That's enough," he said.
"As long as you're moving toward something better."
Better.
If revenge counted as better…
then maybe she was.
A faint vibration came from her phone.
She didn't need to check to know it wasn't Jace.
The timing alone felt like fate playing a cruel joke.
Her chest tightened.
Jace noticed the change instantly.
"You have to go?"
"…Yes. Manager meeting."
Another lie.
Small.
But heavier this time.
He stood immediately, giving her space instead of questions.
"Then I won't keep you."
Why was kindness always the thing that hurt most?
She rose slowly, clutching the empty paper bag.
"Thank you for breakfast."
"Anytime."
His smile returned—soft, sincere, completely unguarded.
The kind of smile someone only gave when their heart was safe.
And suddenly…
she couldn't breathe properly.
Because his heart wasn't safe.
Not with her.
Not in this story.
She turned to leave before the guilt showed on her face.
"Liora."
She paused.
When she looked back, Jace's expression was gentle but serious in a way she had rarely seen.
"No matter what happens later," he said quietly,
"I'm glad I met you."
Her throat tightened painfully.
Words tried to form…
but none of them felt honest enough to say.
So she only nodded once and walked away.
Each step felt heavier than the last.
Because somewhere behind her stood the only person who loved her without secrets.
And sooner or later…
that innocence would be the first thing her truth destroyed.
In the quiet parking garage, Jace watched her disappear into the elevator.
His smile faded slowly, replaced by something more thoughtful…
more uncertain.
He didn't know why,
but for the first time since meeting Liora Vale—
he felt like he was standing at the edge of something fragile.
Something beautiful.
Something that could break
without warning.
And deep down…
he was already afraid of the day it did.
Above the rising elevator, Liora pressed her forehead lightly against the cool metal wall, closing her eyes as the quiet hum surrounded her. Jace's voice lingered in her thoughts, gentle and undeserved, threading through the fragile resolve she had built for years. Revenge required distance. Care required truth. And she possessed neither anymore. When the doors finally opened, she inhaled slowly and stepped forward, her mask already returning to her face. The world waiting upstairs would see only the shining actress. No one would see the crack forming beneath the light—small, silent, and steadily spreading toward a fall she might survive.