Elijah's POV
I dropped my coffee cup when I saw her face on the newspaper.
The hot coffee spilled all over my desk, but I didn't care. I grabbed the newspaper and read the title again.
"Kingston Family Dies in Tragic Car Accident - Daughter Survives " There she was. The girl from my dreams. The girl I'd been seeing in my sleep for three years, even though I'd never met her.
How was that possible?
I stared at her picture. She looked exactly like the girl in my dreams. The same dark hair. The same sad eyes. The same face that haunted me every single night.
But according to the newspaper, her name was Amara Kingston. I'd never heard that name before in my life.
"Sir?" My helper knocked on my door. "The service is starting in an hour. Do you still want to attend?"
I looked up from the newspaper. "What funeral?"
"The Kingston funeral," she said, looking confused. "You asked me to put it on your calendar yesterday. You said it was important for business."
I had no memory of asking her to do that. But lately, I'd been doing strange things without remembering. Like buying flowers for someone I didn't know. Like driving past a house I'd never been to. Like waking up with tears on my face after dreams about a girl I'd never met.
"Yes," I said, standing up. "I'm going."
The service was held at the biggest church in town. When I walked in, I saw hundreds of people dressed in black. Business people. Politicians. Society families.
But none of them mattered when I saw her.
She was sitting in the front row, and even from the back of the church, I could feel her pain. It was like a wave of sadness that filled the entire room.
She looked so small and broken, sitting between a blonde girl and a brown-haired boy. They were holding her hands, but something felt wrong about the way they were touching her.
The blonde girl kept saying things in her ear that made her flinch. The boy kept squeezing her hand too tight, like he was trying to hurt her.
I found myself walking closer, though I didn't know why.
That's when I heard what the beautiful girl was saying.
"Remember what we talked about," she whispered. "Don't say anything stupid during the service."
The dark-haired girl—Amara—nodded, but I could see fresh tears rolling down her face.
"And don't forget," the boy added quietly, "we're the only family you have left now."
Something about the way he said "family" made my skin crawl. It didn't sound loving. It sounded like a threat.
I sat down in a bench where I could see Amara's face. During the entire service, I watched her. She cried quietly, never making a sound. But every few minutes, she would look around the room like she was looking for someone.
When her eyes met mine, something exciting shot through my chest.
She stared at me for a long moment, and I saw something I didn't expect.
She recognized me too.
How was that possible? We'd never met before. I was sure of it.
But the way she looked at me... it was like she knew me. Like she had been waiting for me to show up.
After the service finished, people started leaving. I watched as the blonde girl and the boy practically dragged Amara toward a black car.
"Come on," the blonde girl said. "We need to get you home."
"This isn't my home anymore," Amara said in a voice so sad it broke my heart.
"It is now," the boy said firmly. "You're living with us, remember?"
I followed them outside, staying far enough back that they wouldn't notice me.
That's when I saw something that made my blood boil.
As soon as they thought no one was looking, the blonde girl's whole personality changed. The fake sadness vanished from her face, and she smiled. Actually smiled. At a funeral for her best friend's parents.
The boy saw her smile and shook his head.
"Not here, Sheila," he whispered. "People might see."
Sheila. So that was the beautiful girl's name.
"I can't help it," Sheila said. "Everything is going exactly like we planned."
Planned? What did she mean, planned?
"Lower your voice," the boy said, looking around uncomfortably.
"Why? She can't hear us," Sheila said, looking at Amara, who was standing a few feet away talking to an older woman.
"Besides," Sheila added, "even if she did hear, what could she do about it? She has nothing now. No money. No family. No power. She's completely depending on us."
The boy looked awkward. "I still think we should be more careful."
"Careful about what?" Sheila laughed. "She's too broken to fight back. Look at her, Jayden. She's pathetic." Jayden. So that was the boy's name.
I moved closer, appearing to look at my phone.
"The company sale goes through tomorrow," Sheila said. "After that, we'll be rich beyond our wildest dreams."
"And Amara?" Jayden asked.
"What about her?" Sheila's voice turned cold. "Once we have the money, we won't need her anymore."
"You're not planning to..." Jayden started.
"Hurt her?" Sheila finished. "Of course not. I'm not a monster, Jayden. I'm just going to make sure she disappears."
My hands clenched into fists. These guys were talking about destroying an innocent girl who had just lost her parents. And from the sound of it, they were the ones responsible for her parents' deaths.
I had to do something. But what? I didn't even know Amara. I had no proof of what I'd just heard.
That's when I remembered something my grandfather used to tell me.
"Sometimes, Elijah, the universe puts people in your way for a reason. When that happens, you have two choices. You can walk away and pretend you didn't see anything. Or you can step up and do what's right."
I made my choice.
I walked over to where Amara was standing with the older woman.
"Excuse me," I said softly. "I'm sorry to bother you during such a difficult time."
Amara looked up at me with those sad, beautiful eyes.
"I don't think we've met," she said. "I'm Amara Kingston." "Elijah Russell," I said, shaking her hand gently.
Her eyes opened in surprise. "Russell? As in Russell Industries?"
"Yes," I said. "I knew your parents through work. They were good people."
"Thank you," she said, fresh tears starting to fall.
"I know this might sound strange," I added, "but if you ever need anything—anything at all—please don't hesitate to call me."
I gave her my business card.
Sheila and Jayden appeared beside us like magic.
"Amara," Sheila said with fake sweetness, "we need to go now."
"Of course," Amara said, putting my card in her bag.
But as she turned to leave, she whispered something that only I could hear.
"Help me."
Those two words hit me like a punch to the gut. This girl was in danger, and she knew it.
I watched them drive away, planning how I could help her.
But first, I needed to find out more about what Sheila and Jayden were planning.
That night, I called my private detective.
"I need you to look into two people," I told him. "Sheila Banks and Jayden Miles. I want to know everything about them. Who they work with. Who they owe money to. What they've been doing for the past few months."
"Any particular reason?" he asked.
"They're planning to hurt someone I care about," I said.
"Someone you care about? Boss, you've never cared about anyone."
He was right. I'd spent my whole adult life avoiding emotional relationships. After what happened to my parents, I'd decided it was safer to be alone.
But something about Amara Kingston made me want to protect her. Something about her made me want to be a better man.
"Just do the investigation," I told him.
"Will do. But boss? Be careful. If these people killed the Kingstons like you think, they won't hesitate to come after you too."
After I hung up the phone, I sat in my office thinking about Amara's face. About the way she'd recognized me. About the dreams I'd been having for three years.
Then I remembered something that made my heart stop.
I walked to my safe and pulled out a file I hadn't looked at in years. It was from the private investigator I'd paid to look into my parents' car accident.
I opened the file and found the pictures from the crash site.
And there, in one of the background shots, was a car I recognized.
A car that belongs to Chairman Crain.
The same Chairman Crain who was buying the Kingston company tomorrow.
The same Chairman Crain who had been at my parents' funeral fifteen years ago, offering to "help" me with my fortune.
My hands started shaking as I realized the truth.
My parents' accident hadn't been an accident at all.
And now the same person who killed them was trying to destroy Amara Kingston.
But this time, I wasn't going to be too young or too scared to stop him.
This time, I was going to fight back.
I picked up my phone and rang a number I hadn't called in years.
"Detective Morrison? It's Elijah Russell. I need to reopen the probe into my parents' death. And I think it's linked to what just happened to the Kingston family."
There was a long pause.
"Are you sure you want to do this, son? Opening up old wounds can be risky."
"I'm sure," I said. "Because if I don't stop them now, they're going to kill again."
"Kill who?"
I looked at Amara's picture in the newspaper one more time.
"The girl I'm going to marry," I said.
Even though I'd just met her, somehow I knew it was true.