The night after the candlelight dinner lingered in Eliora's chest long after the candles had burned down to wax and memory.
She lay awake beside Alexander, not sleeping listening. Listening to the steady rhythm of his breathing, to the city humming faintly beyond the windows, to her own heart that refused to calm. The world felt too fragile, too quiet, like something was waiting to break it open.
Alexander sensed it.
He always did.
He shifted slightly, turning toward her, his arm tightening just enough to anchor her. "You're thinking again," he murmured, voice still heavy with sleep but sharp with awareness.
Eliora swallowed. "I don't know how you always know."
A soft smile touched his lips. "Because you don't pull away when you're afraid. You go still."
That did it.
She turned to face him, her eyes searching his in the dim light. "What if everything good comes with a price?" she whispered. "What if loving you means stepping into something I don't fully understand yet?"
Alexander didn't answer immediately. His jaw tightened not in anger, but in restraint.
"There are parts of my world," he finally said, "that are not gentle. Power attracts enemies. Loyalty gets tested. And love…" His thumb brushed the back of her hand. "Love becomes a weakness people try to exploit."
Her chest tightened. "And me?"
He looked at her then really looked at her with an intensity that made her breath hitch. "You are not my weakness, Eliora. You are the reason I'm dangerous to anyone who tries to hurt what's mine."
She didn't flinch.
Instead, she leaned closer.
"I don't want to be protected like glass," she said quietly. "I want to be protected like something valuable."
Something flickered in his eyes pride, approval, something darker and deeper.
"You already are."
Across the City… Emilia Watched
From the shadows of her own carefully constructed silence, Emilia sat with her phone glowing in her hand.
She had seen the photos.
Not the dinner itself but the aftermath. Eliora stepping into Alexander's car. The way he held the door. The way his hand rested possessively at her lower back. The way Eliora leaned into him without hesitation.
It made Emilia's stomach twist.
"She doesn't even know what she's standing next to," Emilia muttered.
Or maybe she did.
That thought unsettled her more.
Emilia began to type a message then erased it. No. Not yet. Rushing would expose her. She needed patience. Precision.
If Eliora wanted to walk into Alexander's world willingly…
Then Emilia would make sure she felt the weight of it first.
Morning did not arrive gently.
It crept in heavy and uninvited, carrying words Eliora wished she had never heard.
She lay awake long before Alexander stirred, her body stiff beneath the sheets, her heart pounding with a quiet fury. Sometime in the early hours when sleep should have claimed them both she had heard his voice. Low. Controlled. Dangerous.
Not spoken to her.
Spoken to someone else.
She hadn't meant to listen. But when she heard phrases like "handle it discreetly" and "make sure it never reaches her," something inside her snapped. It didn't matter what he meant. It didn't matter who he was speaking to.
She was tired.
Tired of shadows.
Tired of half truths.
Tired of loving a man whose world felt like a locked room she wasn't allowed to enter.
Enough, she told herself.
She slipped quietly out of bed, dressing with shaking hands. Her movements were careful, restrained like if she made too much noise, she might break apart completely.
Alexander woke the moment the door clicked softly.
"Eliora?" His voice was thick with sleep, instantly alert. "Where are you going?"
She didn't answer.
He sat up, panic already threading through his calm. "Talk to me. Please."
She paused by the door, her back to him. For a moment, he thought she would turn around.
But she didn't.
Without a word, she stepped out and closed the door behind her.
By the time Alexander pulled on his clothes and rushed downstairs, she was already gone.
A notification flashed on his phone.
Bolt ride in progress.
His chest tightened.
He called her.
Straight to voicemail.
He texted.
Please, talk to me. Whatever you heard, let me explain.
No reply.
Another message.
I can't lose you like this. Not without knowing why.
Still nothing.
He paced the living room like a caged storm, running a hand through his hair, breath uneven.
I can't be without you, he typed next, fingers trembling with urgency.
You are my home. Please don't shut me out.
But Eliora stared at her phone from the back seat of the car, tears burning her eyes, jaw clenched tight.
She refused to respond.
Not because she didn't care.
But because caring was starting to hurt too much.
When Eliora stepped out of the car, she expected quiet.
Instead, she walked straight into confrontation.
Cindy stood near the entrance like she belonged there leaning casually against the railing, heels sharp against the pavement, her posture confident, deliberate. She looked expensive in a way Eliora had never tried to be: sleek hair falling perfectly over one shoulder, red lipstick precise, eyes cold and measuring.
"Well," Cindy said slowly, her gaze dragging over Eliora from head to toe. "So this is her."
Eliora froze.
The tone wasn't curiosity.
It was dismissal.
"I'm sorry do I know you?" Eliora asked, though her heart already knew the answer.
Cindy laughed, low and mocking. "Oh, you know me. You've probably tried not to." She stepped closer. "Cindy."
The name landed like a slap.
Alexander's ex.
Eliora straightened instinctively. "I'm not interested in this conversation."
"Oh, sweetheart," Cindy said, circling her slightly, "you should be. I'm very interested in you."
Eliora swallowed, gripping her bag strap tighter.
"I just never imagined," Cindy continued, tilting her head, "that he would settle for someone so… quiet." Her lips curled. "He used to like women who could keep up."
Eliora felt heat rush to her face but said nothing.
"That silence," Cindy went on, eyes narrowing, "it's cute now. But men like Alexander? They get bored of cute."
She stepped closer, lowering her voice. "Do you know how he used to look at me? Like I was fire. Like he couldn't wait to ruin me and rebuild me all over again."
Eliora's stomach twisted.
"We were reckless," Cindy said lightly, as if reminiscing over coffee. "Late nights. No rules. No limits. He never slept when he was with me." She smirked. "And trust me he never complained."
"That's enough," Eliora whispered.
Cindy smiled wider. "Is it? Because I'm just getting started."
She leaned in, voice sharp and intentional. "You know, he never took me seriously. Never promised me forever. But when he wanted release?" She shrugged. "He always came back."
Eliora's chest felt tight, her breath shallow.
"He likes intensity," Cindy added cruelly. "Danger. Heat. Not… fragility."
Then, with calculated nastiness, she wrinkled her nose. "And honestly? His breath in the morning? Awful. I used to tease him about it all the time."
That one hurt in a stupid, unexpected way.
Because it was intimate.
Because it was real.
Because it meant Cindy had known him in ways Eliora was still learning.
Cindy crossed her arms. "I tried everything, you know. Supported his work. Designed pieces just for him. Bent myself into shapes that fit his world." Her eyes hardened. "And it still wasn't enough."
For a brief second, something cracked in her expression resentment, maybe even regret.
Then it vanished.
"But you?" Cindy scoffed. "You think you're different. That he'll change for you."
She leaned closer, whispering, "Men like him don't change. They just choose who they destroy last."
Eliora's hands trembled, but she lifted her chin.
"I didn't ask for your opinion," she said quietly.
Cindy chuckled. "No. But I gave it anyway."
She stepped back, eyes dark and lingering. "Just remember I know him. The real him. And when he gets tired of pretending to be gentle…" She smiled thinly. "Don't say I didn't warn you."
Without waiting for a response, Eliora brushed past her and entered the building, her heart pounding violently against her ribs.
Behind her, Cindy watched her go jaw tight, eyes burning with something unresolved.
Because jealousy, when mixed with unfinished business, never stayed quiet for long.
After the conversation was over Eliora shut her door and went inside her bedroom.
The moment Eliora shut the door behind her, her strength collapsed.
She leaned against the door for a second, chest heaving, before her legs finally gave way. She slid down slowly until she was sitting on the floor, arms wrapped tightly around herself as if she could hold the pain in.
Cindy's words replayed over and over in her mind sharp, deliberate, merciless.
He always came back.
Men like him don't change.
Don't say I didn't warn you.
A sob tore out of her before she could stop it.
Then another.
Then everything broke.
She cried the way people cry when they're alone and don't have to be brave hands covering her mouth, shoulders shaking, tears soaking into her sleeves. Her chest ached, her head throbbed, and her heart felt bruised, like it had been struck too many times in too little time.
She loved him.
That was the cruelest part.
She dragged herself up and stumbled into the bedroom, not bothering to change, not bothering to wipe her face. The bed still smelled faintly like him, and that only made it worse.
Eliora curled up on her side, pulling the blanket over herself like armor.
Why does loving you hurt this much already? she thought.
Her phone buzzed again.
Alexander.
She turned it face down without looking.
The tears kept coming until exhaustion finally overtook grief. Her breathing slowed, hiccupped once, then evened out. With swollen eyes and a heavy heart, she drifted into an uneasy sleep hoping rest might numb what she couldn't escape.
Outside, the world kept moving.
Inside, Eliora slept through heartbreak.