Mira's POV
I should move.
Ryder's arm was still around me. I was still curled against his chest. The phone with its terrifying message was burning in my hand.
Someone you trust poisoned your grandmother.
I pulled away. Carefully. Quietly.
Ryder's eyes opened immediately.
You okay? he asked, voice rough with sleep.
Fine. Just... needed to move.
Liar.
I wasn't fine. I was the opposite of fine.
Someone I trusted was a murderer. And I had to meet a stranger to find out who.
Without telling Ryder.
The man whose arms I'd just been sleeping in.
What time is it? Ryder sat up, running his hand through his hair.
Almost three.
Can't sleep?
Too much on my mind.
He looked at me. Really looked. Want to talk about it?
Yes. No. Maybe.
Tell me about your mom, I said instead. You said she died in a car crash.
Ryder went still. Why do you want to know?
Because you know everything about me. My failed engagement. My toxic family. My abandoned dreams. But I don't know you. Not really.
What do you want to know?
Everything.
He was quiet for a long moment.
Then he started talking.
She was an architect, he said softly. My mom. That's where I got it from. She designed buildings that made people feel things. Safe. Happy. Home.
What happened?
Drunk driver. Hit them head-on. My dad died instantly. My mom lasted three days in the hospital. His voice was flat. Empty. I sat with her. Held her hand. She couldn't talk but she could squeeze my fingers. Three squeezes meant 'I love you.' She did it over and over until she couldn't anymore.
My throat tightened. I'm so sorry.
I was supposed to graduate in two weeks. Start my architecture program at Columbia. I had my whole life planned. He laughed bitterly. Then I was standing at their funeral, learning that my dad's company was drowning in debt. My brother was too messed up to help. It was me or bankruptcy.
So you gave up your dream.
I gave up everything. Columbia. Architecture. The person I was going to be. He looked at his hands. I became someone I didn't recognize. Cold. Ruthless. Good at business but empty inside.
You're not empty.
How would you know?
Because empty people don't buy paintings at galleries. They don't befriend lonely old women. They don't give up hotel suites so their roommate has a place to sleep.
Ryder's grey eyes met mine. You see the best in me.
You see the best in me too.
We sat there. Looking at each other. The air felt heavy. Important.
Tell me about your mom, Ryder said. The real story. Not the polite version you tell people.
I took a breath.
I was eight, I started. It was a Tuesday. I remember because Tuesdays were art class and I loved art class. I came home with a painting I made. A family portrait. Me, Mom, Dad. All holding hands.
Ryder listened without interrupting.
Mom was in the kitchen. She looked at my painting and smiled. Said it was beautiful. Asked me to put it on the fridge. I could still see it so clearly. Then she kissed my forehead and said, 'I love you, baby. Never forget that.'
What happened?
I went to my room to do homework. When I came out an hour later, she was gone. All her clothes. Her jewellery. Everything. Just... gone. My voice cracked. Dad came home and found her note. It just said, 'I can't do this anymore. I'm sorry.' That was it. No explanation. No goodbye to me.
Did she ever come back?
No. We never heard from her again. Dad hired investigators but they couldn't find her. It was like she disappeared off the planet.
That must have destroyed you.
It destroyed Dad more. He shut down. Stopped talking. Stopped being a father. Just worked all the time. I picked at the blanket. Then he met Vanessa's mom a year later. Married her six months after that. Suddenly I had a stepmother and a stepsister and Dad was... different. Happy again. But not with me. With them.
He replaced you.
He replaced all of us. New wife. New daughter. New life. I was just the reminder of the family that failed.
That's why you tried so hard to be perfect.
I nodded. If I was smart enough, accomplished enough, successful enough, maybe he'd see me again. Maybe he'd be proud. I laughed, but it hurt. Spoiler alert: it never worked.
His loss, Ryder said quietly. He's an idiot for not seeing how incredible you are.
You don't know that I'm incredible.
Yes, I do.
You've known me for six days.
I've known you for five years.
Right. The watching. The painting. The obsession.
That's not the same as knowing someone, I said.
Then tell me something I don't know. Something you've never told anyone.
I thought about it.
Sometimes, I said slowly, I'm glad Marcus cheated. Not because I wanted to get hurt. But because it gave me an excuse to leave. To stop pretending I was happy in a life that was killing me slowly.
You wanted out.
I wanted out of everything. The job I hated. The relationship that felt like a prison. The constant performance of being someone I'm not. I looked at him. That text I got earlier. The one about my grandmother being poisoned. Part of me wondered if she did it herself.
Ryder went very still. What?
She was sick. Dying. Maybe she just... wanted it to be over. On her terms.
Mira
But the text said someone did it because of what she knew about you. About your real reason for wanting me. I turned to face him fully. What does that mean? What did she know?
Ryder's jaw tightened.
Tell me, I demanded. Right now. What secret was worth killing her over?
It wasn't a secret worth killing over. And she wasn't murdered because of me.
Then why does someone think she was?
Because someone wants to turn you against me. These texts, the warnings, all of itthey're designed to make you afraid. To make you run.
Who would want that?
I don't know. But I'm going to find out.
The text said to meet tomorrow at 2 PM. At a coffee shop. Alone.
You're not going.
Excuse me?
It's obviously a trap.
Or it's someone trying to help me!
By threatening you? By making you choose between safety and truth?
Maybe I need the truth more than safety!
We were both standing now. Voices raised. The quiet intimacy shattered.
Mira. Ryder grabbed my shoulders. Listen to me. Your grandmother died of heart failure. I was there. I saw the medical reports. There was no poison.
Then who's texting me? Why are they lying?
I don't know. But I will find out. Just... please don't go to that meeting. Please trust me.
Trust you? The man who's been lying since the moment we met?
I never lied about the important things.
You lied about EVERYTHING!
No. His grip tightened. I kept secrets. That's different. Everything I told youabout falling in love at the gallery, about your grandmother asking me to watch over you, about wanting to give you a safe place all of that is true.
How do I know what's true anymore?
Because I'm telling you now. No more secrets. No more half-truths. Ask me anything. Anything. I'll tell you everything.
I looked at him. At his grey eyes desperate and honest.
Why do you really want me? I whispered. Not the romantic version. The real reason. What do you get out of this?
Ryder's hands dropped from my shoulders.
He walked to the window. Looked out at the dark city.
Your grandmother made me a deal, he said quietly.
My stomach dropped. What kind of deal?
She knew I was in love with you. Knew I'd been watching from afar for years. And she said... she said if I could make you happy. Really happy. If I could help you find yourself again, become the person you were meant to be... He stopped.
What? My voice was barely a whisper. What did she promise you?
He turned to face me.
She promised me you'd fall in love with me too.
The room spun.
That's... I couldn't breathe. That's insane. You can't make someone fall in love. You can't... that's not how love works!
I know. That's what I told her. But she said... He ran his hand through his hair. She said you'd been performing your whole life. Playing the role everyone wanted. And if someone could just see the real you really see you'd bloom. You'd become yourself again. And that person would be impossible not to love.
So this whole thing the apartment, the thirty days, everything it's a bet? You're trying to WIN me?
No! It started as... maybe. But then I met you. Really met you. And I realized your grandmother was right. Not about making you fall in love. About you deserving someone who sees you. Who values you. Who
STOP! I backed away. Stop talking. Stop explaining. Stop... just stop.
Tears were streaming down my face.
This whole time. Everything.
It was a game. A challenge. A bet with a dead woman.
Mira, please
I'm going to that meeting tomorrow, I said. And you can't stop me.
It's dangerous
I don't care. Someone wants to tell me the truth. The real truth. Not your version. Not some romantic fairy tale about seeing me. The actual truth about what happened to my grandmother and why.
What if the truth is worse than what you imagine?
Then at least I'll know!
We stood there. The apartment silent except for our breathing.
Then Ryder said something that made my blood freeze.
The person texting you isn't trying to help. They're the one who wants you dead. And if you go to that meeting, you'll be walking right into their trap.
I stared at him. What?
The texts. The warnings. The meeting. It's all designed to get you alone. Away from me. Away from protection. His voice was urgent. Mira, your grandmother didn't just leave you this apartment. She left you something else. Something dangerous. And someone wants it. They've wanted it since before she died.
What are you talking about?
The trust fund. It's not just money. It's
My phone rang.
Unknown number.
I answered without thinking. Hello?
Hello, Mira. A woman's voice. Familiar. But I couldn't place it. I see you got my messages.
Who is this?
Someone who knew your grandmother very well. Someone she trusted. Right up until I killed her.
The phone slipped from my fingers.
Ryder caught it. Put it on speaker.
What do you want? he demanded.
Oh, Ryder. Still playing the hero? The woman laughed. Does Mira know yet? About what her grandmother really left her? About why you really want her?
Tell me, I said. Tell me everything.
Tomorrow. 2 PM. Come alone or you'll never know the truth. The line went dead.
I looked at Ryder.
He looked back.
And I realized neither of us knew who the real enemy was.
But someone was willing to kill to get what my grandmother left me.
And I had less than twelve hours to figure out who.