ANDERSON ESTATE - AFTERNOON
Nana decided to visit Xavier's apartment today. It had been three days since they'd seen each other in person, and she missed him terribly.
She'd called Jihoon—Xavier's cousin—earlier, concerned because Xavier wasn't answering his phone. Jihoon had said something that made her heart drop: Xavier had been robbed on his way to business college.
Robbed.
Her Xaviee had been hurt.
Nana was in the car and on her way within minutes, crying the entire drive. Mr. Chen kept glancing at her in the rearview mirror with concern, but she couldn't stop the tears.
When she arrived at Xavier's apartment, Jihoon opened the door, his expression carefully neutral.
"Miss Anderson. He's in the living room."
Nana pushed past him, her eyes immediately finding Xavier on the couch.
Her hands flew to her mouth, fresh tears spilling.
A bandage across the bridge of his nose. Small cuts on his hands. More bandaging visible under his loose shirt. A bruise on his cheekbone that makeup couldn't quite hide.
"Xaviee..." Her voice cracked.
He looked up, and his expression immediately softened. "Starlight. You didn't have to come—"
"Of course I came!" She rushed to him, her hands hovering over his injuries, afraid to touch and hurt him. "Are you okay? Did they catch them? What did they take?"
Xavier's arms came around her gently, pulling her into a careful hug. His chin found its favorite spot on top of her head.
"I'm fine," he murmured. "Just some bruises. They got my wallet, but I'm okay."
"You're not okay! Look at you!" She pulled back enough to cup his face in her small hands, her thumbs carefully avoiding the bruise. Her eyes scanned every injury, cataloging each one with increasing distress. "How dare they hurt you. How *dare* they."
Something flickered in Xavier's eyes—guilt, pain, something else she couldn't name.
"It's not that bad, really. Could have been worse."
He hadn't meant to lie like this. The cover story had been Jihoon's idea—a mugging would explain the visible injuries that makeup couldn't hide. Xavier had initially planned to just avoid Nana for a few days until he healed, but Jihoon had pointed out that would make her more suspicious.
So here he was, letting her believe he'd been jumped by random criminals.
When in reality, every injury was from the twenty assassins he'd killed protecting her.
"I brought supplies." Nana wiped her eyes, trying to compose herself. "And soup. Have you eaten? Did the hospital check you properly? Should we go to the emergency room? What if you have internal injuries—"
"Breathe, Starlight." His hands came up to hold hers, which were still cupping his face. "I'm okay. I promise."
"Show me the CCTV footage," she demanded suddenly.
His heart stuttered. "What?"
"The CCTV footage. Where it happened. I want to see who did this to you." Her pink eyes were fierce, protective in a way that made his chest ache. "I want to know what they look like."
Xavier exchanged a glance with where Jihoon had been standing, grateful his second-in-command had already left to give them privacy. They'd prepared for this possibility.
"Starlight, I don't think—"
"Please." Her voice broke. "I need to see. I need to know what happened."
He couldn't say no to her. He never could.
"Okay." He reached for his laptop on the coffee table, pulling up the fabricated footage his team had created. "But it's not pleasant to watch."
The video showed a narrow alley near the business college campus. Xavier—or rather, someone wearing his clothes, same build, same hair color—walked through carrying textbooks. Three men in hoodies approached. Words were exchanged. Then a scuffle.
It was masterfully staged. His men had choreographed it to look random and brutal—shoving, punches thrown, Xavier going down. His wallet taken. The attackers running off.
Xavier watched Nana's face as she viewed the footage, saw her eyes fill with tears, saw her hand fly to her mouth.
"Oh my god," she whispered. "Xaviee..."
The video ended.
Nana immediately threw her arms around him, burying her face in his chest. He felt her tears soaking through his shirt.
"I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry this happened to you."
Xavier's arms came around her automatically, and the guilt was a physical weight crushing his ribs. She was crying for him. Over fabricated footage. While the real violence—the blood he'd actually spilled—was hidden from her.
"Hey, it's okay. I'm okay." He stroked her hair gently. "It's over now."
She pulled back slightly, still in his arms, and somehow she'd ended up sitting in his lap. This was normal for them—had been since childhood. She was small enough to curl up on his lap when she was upset, and he was big enough to hold her comfortably.
But still.
His hands, resting on her back, had killed men last night.
These same hands that held her so carefully.
"Did they hurt you badly?" she asked quietly, her fingers ghosting over the bandage on his hand.
"Some cuts and bruises. Nothing serious."
"Can I see?"
"Starlight—"
"Please? I brought supplies to re-bandage them properly."
Xavier sighed but nodded. She scrambled off his lap to grab her bags, pulling out an impressive array of medical supplies.
"Okay, let me see your hand first."
He unwrapped the bandage slowly, revealing the cuts across his knuckles. They were real—from pistol recoil and hand-to-hand combat—but positioned to look like defensive wounds from a mugging.
Nana's expression crumpled, but she composed herself, gently cleaning and re-bandaging with careful precision.
"Your nose?"
"Just a small cut. It's fine."
"And your ribs?"
Xavier hesitated. The wound on his elbow was stitched and bandaged, hidden under his sleeve. But his ribs had some bruising from where he'd been thrown against a car door.
"Just bruised."
"Let me see."
"Starlight—"
"Xavier." She used his full name, which she rarely did. "Let me see."
He lifted his shirt slightly, showing the dark purple bruising across his left side.
Nana made a small, wounded sound. Her fingers hovered over the bruises, not quite touching. "Does it hurt?"
"Not too bad."
"Liar." But her touch was feather-light as she examined the injury. "You need to rest. No classes for a few days."
"I'll be fine—"
"No." She stood up, suddenly determined. "I'm staying. I'm going to take care of you. I'll cook, and make sure you rest, and—"
"Starlight, you don't have to—"
"Yes, I do." She crossed her arms, looking stubborn. "You're always taking care of me. Now it's my turn."
Xavier wanted to protest, but the way she was looking at him—fierce and protective and so completely *Nana*—made resistance impossible.
"Okay," he conceded softly.
Her smile was brilliant. "Good. Now, you're going to lie down while I make you soup."
She bustled toward his kitchen, and Xavier leaned back on the couch, closing his eyes. This was dangerous. Having her here, in his space, for an extended time. More chances for her to notice something off.
But he was so tired.
And having her near made the constant cold in his chest feel almost warm.
Two hours later, Xavier was lying on the couch with his head in Nana's lap. She'd fed him soup—homemade, somehow, she'd actually cooked in his barely-used kitchen—and now she was stroking his hair with gentle fingers.
"Sleep, Xaviee," she murmured. "You need rest."
He let his eyes close, let himself sink into the comfort of her touch. This was heaven. This small moment of peace where he could pretend to be normal, pretend his biggest problem was recovering from a mugging.
Pretend his hands weren't stained red.
In his half-asleep state, his mind wandered to dangerous territory.
He imagined Nana in a wedding dress. White silk, delicate lace, her hair styled with flowers. Walking down an aisle toward him. Smiling that sunshine smile.
Becoming his wife.
His partner.
His everything.
But then reality crashed back.
She'd never marry him if she knew the truth.
If she knew the monster wearing Xavier's face.
If she knew his hands—the ones currently accepting her gentle touch—had ended twenty lives just last night.
She'd look at him with horror instead of affection.
Fear instead of love.
She'd run, and he'd let her, because she deserved better than a man soaked in blood.
"Xaviee?" Her soft voice pulled him back. "Are you sleeping?"
"Mmm... almost."
"Can I read some of your books? Or maybe comics? I don't want to disturb you, but I might get bored."
"Yes," he murmured, eyes still closed. "Help yourself."
He heard her shift carefully, trying not to jostle him, heard her footsteps moving toward his bookshelf.
Then he heard her say, with genuine interest: "Oh, *The Art of War*? I didn't know you liked philosophy—"
Xavier's eyes snapped open.
The bookshelf.
The hidden button.
*The Art of War.*
He was off the couch and across the room in a heartbeat, moving faster than he ever should as a supposedly injured mugging victim. His hand shot out, gently but firmly stopping her hand just before her fingers touched the spine of the leather-bound book.
"Don't."
Nana jumped, startled. "Xaviee! You scared me! What's wrong?"
Behind her, standing in the kitchen doorway where he'd returned without announcement, Jihoon had gone pale.
Xavier's mind raced. Nana's hand was less than an inch from the button that would reveal the elevator to his underground empire. One accidental press, and his entire world would crumble.
"That's... that book is..." He struggled to find words that didn't sound suspicious.
"Is it special?" Nana asked, tilting her head. Her hand was still extended toward the book, and Xavier kept his hand gently wrapped around her wrist, keeping her from touching it.
"It's not... I mean..." Xavier took a breath, pulling her away from the bookshelf, away from the hidden entrance to his real life. "It's not appropriate."
"Not appropriate?" She blinked up at him, confused. "It's *The Art of War*. We studied it in literature class. It's a classic—"
"Not that one." Xavier's mind scrambled for a believable lie. "That's not the actual *Art of War*. It's... different."
"Different how?"
"It's a mature book." The words came out rushed. "Not suitable for... I mean, it's got mature content, and I don't think you'd want to read—"
Nana's eyes went wide. "Oh."
"Oh?"
"*Oh.*" Her cheeks flushed pink. "You mean like... *mature* mature? Like romance novel mature?"
Xavier latched onto the misunderstanding like a lifeline. "Yes. Exactly. Mature content. Spicy stuff. Not appropriate."
Her blush deepened. "I didn't know you read... those kinds of books."
"I'm a grown man, Starlight. Sometimes I—" He cleared his throat, leaning into the embarrassment of the lie because it was infinitely better than the truth. "It's private."
"Right. Of course. Sorry!" She backed away from the bookshelf quickly, looking adorably flustered. "I didn't mean to—I should have asked—I'm so sorry—"
"It's fine." Xavier exhaled slowly, relief flooding through him. Behind Nana, Jihoon had his hand pressed to his chest, looking like he'd aged five years in the last thirty seconds.
Nana hugged Xavier suddenly, carefully avoiding his injuries. "I'm sorry for being nosy. Your private stuff is your private stuff. I won't touch that book."
"Thank you, Starlight."
If only she knew that "book" was the entrance to an empire built on violence and blood.
Xavier caught Jihoon's eye over Nana's head and saw his second-in-command mouth: *Too close.*
Way too close.
"Hey," Xavier said, gently extricating himself from the hug. "Why don't we get out of here for a bit? Go to the mall? I could use some fresh air."
Nana looked uncertain. "But you're injured. Should you be walking around?"
"I'll be fine. Just some bruises." He gave her his softest smile. "Besides, I'll have you to lean on if I need help."
"Well..." She bit her lip, then brightened. "Okay! But we're going slowly, and if you feel tired, we're coming right back!"
"Deal."
As Nana went to grab her bag, Xavier sent a rapid text to Jihoon on his encrypted phone: *Full security detail. Now. Civilian clothes. I'm taking her out.*
Jihoon's response was immediate: *Already mobilizing. Team will be in position in 10 minutes.*
Xavier deleted the messages and pocketed the phone.
"Ready?" Nana asked brightly, returning with her bag.
"Ready."
As they left the apartment, Xavier cast one last look at his bookshelf—at *The Art of War* sitting innocently among other books, hiding the entrance to his real world.
That had been too close.
Nana was getting curious, asking questions, noticing inconsistencies.
The carefully constructed walls between his two lives were developing cracks.
And Xavier didn't know how much longer he could keep them from crumbling completely.
But for now, he'd smile and take her to the mall and pretend to be recovering from a mugging.
For now, the mask would hold.
It had to.
.
.
.
.
.
To be continued.