Jane's POV
"You do," he said, and there wasn't even a hint of doubt in his tone. "You just haven't seen it yet."
I stared at him, searching for a motive behind the concern. I didn't trust him—not fully—but he wasn't acting like a man trying to manipulate me. More like someone already in a fight and dragging me to the safest corner of the ring.
I stepped back toward my room. At the doorway, I turned. "If you lie to me, even once, I walk. I don't care how dangerous it is."
He held my gaze, unwavering. "Then I won't lie."
I wasn't sure if that comforted me or scared me more.
I crawled back into bed beside Celine's soft breathing. This time, when I closed my eyes, sleep finally came—but it wasn't peaceful.
Because now there was a new name in the middle of this storm.
Marcus.
And whoever he was, he had just entered the war too.
.
.
.
Sunlight sneaked through the thick curtains, weak and hesitant. My eyes opened reluctantly. Every part of me ached in ways that weren't just physical. Sleep had been thin, punctured by fragments of voices, the name Marcus echoing louder each time it slipped into my dreams.
Celine stirred beside me, groaning. "Morning already?"
I nodded, but my stomach twisted. The nightmare from the night before hadn't left. It was still there, lingering in the corners of the suite.
A soft knock sounded at the door. Not the polite, "Room service" knock, but deliberate, efficient.
"Enter," Allen's voice called, calm but carrying weight.
William stepped in, crisp as ever, holding a small tablet in one hand. His eyes flicked to me, then to Celine, then back to the tablet.
"Sir, you requested the latest updates regarding Miss Williams'… situation," he said.
Allen, who had been standing by the window moments before, turned immediately. There was a subtle shift in him—the tension tightened in his shoulders, the air around him thickened.
I stayed on the bed, Celine's presence beside me grounding my jittery limbs.
William cleared his throat. "Your husband has moved. He's made contact with… associates. Financial transactions, travel arrangements. He seems to be planning something."
My pulse jolted. "Planning what?" My voice was sharp before I could stop it.
Allen didn't answer me. He didn't have to. His eyes were already scanning William's tablet, fingers tapping rapidly, issuing silent orders only William would understand.
I felt my stomach tighten. I hadn't thought of him beyond the betrayal, but seeing Allen shift into action—cold, efficient, predatory—made my fear deepen. He was a man used to control, and now he had my ex-husband in his sights.
William's voice cut through my thoughts. "Shall I proceed with the countermeasures, sir?"
Allen's gaze lifted, sharp, cold, but there was a glimmer of calculation there. "Yes. Immediately. Secure all perimeters. Trace his contacts. And… prepare a list. I want every move documented, every location mapped."
"Yes, sir." William's fingers danced across the tablet like a pianist hitting the keys perfectly, each tap a command in motion.
I swallowed hard. I hadn't realized until now that Allen wasn't just offering protection. He was actively hunting. And my ex-husband was already in his crosshairs.
"Sir," William added, hesitating slightly, "Marcus has been sighted nearby. He appears to be aware of our presence."
The name hit me like ice. Marcus. I'd only heard it once before, whispered in a dark room, and now it had grown into a real, tangible threat.
Allen's expression didn't flicker. Not even an eyelid. "Good. Let him know we're ready."
I could feel it—the storm that had been building for months, the storm that had finally found its edges, was moving closer. My heart thudded, heavy and irregular, and a part of me wanted to crawl back under the sheets.
But I stayed. I had no place left to hide.
Allen turned to me then, just for a fraction of a second. "Jane," he said, voice low, "today you see more than the surface. Stay close to Celine. And stay alert."
I nodded, unsure if I believed him, unsure if I could.
William's eyes flicked between Allen and the tablet, waiting. Allen's hand hovered for just a moment, then swept over the screen, giving crisp, decisive instructions.
"Trace every account. Shadow every move. No gaps. I want full intel by tonight. And prepare the team—if he makes a move, we intercept immediately."
William tapped one last time, then straightened. "Understood, sir."
Allen turned away, his profile rigid, jaw set. Even from where I lay, I could see the weight of the fight settling on him like armor.
I didn't know if I was ready to be part of this war. I didn't know if I wanted to be. But one thing was undeniable: my ex-husband had just become a moving target, and the consequences of his next step would ripple through my life, whether I liked it or not.
The sun rose higher outside the window. But the room was already dark with tension, anticipation, and the unspoken question hanging in the air:
Who would make the first move? And would I survive it?