Selene stared at him, the name echoing in her head like a crack spreading through glass.
"Elvin… Vander," she repeated slowly. "You're lying."
He didn't deny it.
He simply turned and started walking toward the exit.
Her chest tightened. "Zenon doesn't have a brother," she said, louder now, as if volume alone could make it true.
Elvin stopped at the doorway. The fluorescent light caught his profile—sharp, controlled, untouched by grief. He looked back at her, eyes dark and assessing.
"Then who do you think I am, Selene?" he asked quietly. "A stranger who knows his medical records? His enemies? His last wishes?"
Her mouth opened. Closed.
"I heard him mention a cousin once," she said weakly. "A business partner. But never—"
"Because he buried me," Elvin cut in. "Just like he buried that part of his life."
The words settled like dust in her lungs.
"I don't care what he told you," he continued. "I care that you stay alive."
She shook her head, stepping back instinctively. "You can't just show up and drag me away because you say you're family."
"I'm not asking," he said flatly.
Her hands trembled. She clenched them into fists, grounding herself. "If I leave," she said, her voice cracking despite her effort, "who stays with him?"
Elvin's gaze flicked briefly toward the glass wall behind her—toward Zenon's still body.
"No one needs to," he replied. "Not yet."
The way he said it—calm, precise—terrified her more than shouting ever could.
"What does that mean?" she asked.
"It means," he said slowly, "that the people who put him there won't touch him again while he's unconscious."
Her stomach dropped. "People?"
Elvin exhaled through his nose, irritation flashing across his face—as if she were forcing him to say things he'd rather keep buried.
"The accident wasn't an accident," he said. "And you know it."
She didn't answer.
Because deep down—
She did.
"I can't just disappear," she whispered. "There are forms. Nurses. His family—"
"I am his family," Elvin said sharply. Then, quieter: "And the rest are liabilities."
She flinched.
"Come," he said, turning away again. "Before someone realizes you're not crying in that chair anymore."
Selene's feet felt rooted to the floor. Her heart pounded so hard it hurt. She glanced back one last time at the room behind the glass—the machines, the steady rise and fall of Zenon's chest.
"I'll come," she said suddenly. "But I won't be silent."
Elvin paused, then nodded once. "Good," he said. "Zenon always said you wouldn't be."
They stepped out into the night.
The air outside was cooler, heavier. A black car waited at the curb, engine running, windows tinted so dark she couldn't see inside.
Selene hesitated.
"Elvin," she said. "If you hurt me—"
He opened the passenger door and looked at her, his expression hard but not cruel.
"If I wanted to hurt you," he said, "you'd already be in the ground."
She swallowed and got in.
As the door shut and the car pulled away from the hospital, Selene pressed her forehead to the window, watching the lights blur.
Somewhere behind her, Zenon slept.
And somewhere ahead—
A world she was never meant to see was opening its doors.
——
The car rolled through the gates of Zenon's compound and came to a stop.
Selene stayed seated for a moment.
The house rose ahead of her—unchanged. Solid. Silent.
Zenon's house.
She imagined him here the way he used to be—walking these grounds late at night, phone pressed to his ear, voice low, controlled. Always in command. Always watching.
You promised you'd come home, she thought. You promised you wouldn't leave me with this place alone.
Her chest tightened.
She pushed the door open and stepped out.
The night air was cool. Familiar. Too calm.
Then—
A sound cut through it.
Distant at first.
Then louder.
Sirens.
Selene stiffened, her head snapping toward the gates.
Blue and red lights flashed against the iron bars as vehicles slowed outside.
"What…?" she whispered.
Elvin stepped out beside her, already tense.
He followed her gaze, eyes narrowing.
"…Did you call the corps?"
She turned to him, startled.
"No. Why would I?"
His jaw set.
"Then someone panicked."
Before she could respond, hurried footsteps echoed behind her.
"SELENE!"
She turned.
Karen ran toward her, breathless—but she stopped a few steps away this time, eyes scanning Selene like she was checking for injuries.
"You're okay," Karen said, relief flooding her face. "You're really okay."
"I am," Selene said softly. "Karen—"
"I called them," Karen admitted quickly, glancing toward the gates where the corps were now entering. "You vanished. I didn't know where you were. I thought—" She swallowed. "I thought something happened."
The men approached, professional but alert.
One of them stepped forward.
"Ma'am, we just need to confirm she's safe."
Selene straightened slowly.
"I'm safe," she said. "And this is my home."
The man nodded. "For the report—your name?"
"Selene Vander," she replied without hesitation.
Then, firmer: "Mrs. Vander."
The reaction was immediate.
The corps shifted—uneasy, uncertain.
Karen noticed.
"…Why did they look like that?"
Selene noticed too.
"Why are you confused?" she asked the man calmly. "You were called here. You know whose house this is."
The guard hesitated.
"We were told to secure the property until further notice."
"By who?" Karen asked.
There was a pause.
"Elvin Vander."
Karen slowly turned.
Elvin had leaned against the car, arms crossed, his expression dark with irritation.
"Oh," Karen said quietly. "So you're that guy."
One of the corps approached him carefully.
"Sir, we need to speak with you."
Elvin didn't look at him.
"She's safe," he said coldly. "That's all you need."
"Sir—"
"Leave," Elvin said.
The man hesitated—then met Elvin's eyes.
That was enough.
The corps began to withdraw.
Selene turned toward Elvin, her voice low.
"Is it safe here?" she asked.
He met her gaze.
"Yes," he said. "For now."
Karen crossed her arms.
"I don't like 'for now.'"
Her phone buzzed. She checked it and sighed.
"My cousin," she said. "They're back from the park."
She looked at Selene.
"I'll come back," she said firmly. "You're not facing this alone."
Selene nodded.
"I know."
Karen pointed once at Elvin.
"And you," she added. "I'm watching you."
Elvin didn't respond.
As Karen walked away and the sirens faded, the compound fell quiet again.
Selene stood there, the weight of Zenon's absence pressing down on her—
and the certainty settling in that whatever had put him in that hospital
was now standing at her door.