Chloe learned quickly that silence had weight.
In Alexander's world, silence wasn't emptiness—it was calculation.
They sat across from each other in the penthouse library, surrounded by glass walls and city lights. No guards. No weapons visible. Just space.
Alexander watched her hands.
She noticed.
"You do that a lot," she said quietly.
"Do what?"
"Track movement. Like you're memorizing where someone might break."
He didn't deny it.
"Old habit."
She nodded. "Me too."
That was the moment he realized her strength wasn't loud. It was contained.
Later that night, when thunder rolled over the city, Chloe didn't flinch—but she didn't sleep either. Alexander noticed the light under her door still on at 3 a.m.
He didn't knock.
He left tea outside.
No words.
No pressure.
Just presence.
And for the first time in a long while, Chloe felt something unfamiliar settle in her chest.
Not safety.
Choice.