CHAPTER 2 THE APARTMENT WITH THIN WALLS

Elara didn’t sleep.

She tried, lying on her side, hand curved instinctively over her belly, eyes closed, but every flicker of wind outside, every creak of the building, every passing car made her jolt awake, heart racing.

Damien’s message replayed in her mind on an endless loop.

We always find what’s ours.

He’d never said anything like that when they were married. He didn’t need to. Everything he wanted, he already controlled. Her. Her finances. Her choices. Her silence.

But now she had slipped out of his grasp, and Damien Hale did not tolerate disobedience.

Or loss.

Not even of a woman he never truly loved.

A chill ran along her spine.

She sat up, unable to lie still any longer.

The apartment was quiet. Too quiet. The kind of silence that hurt her ears, made her skin crawl. She left the bedroom and moved into the small living room, pulling the curtains tightly shut.

Her pulse settled slightly once she did.

Then…

A knock.

Soft.

Two taps.

Then stillness.

Elara froze in place.

Her breath hitched in her throat as she stared at the front door. Not loud enough for a neighbor. Too delicate for a delivery.

The type of knock made by someone who doesn’t want to alert attention.

Her muscles tensed.

She didn’t move.

Another pair of taps sounded, quiet but insistent.

Her throat felt dry.

“Elara?” A muffled voice whispered urgently.

 “It’s Kyle, next door. I…I think we need to talk.”

Her neighbor.

She had only met him once, briefly, when she moved her boxes in that morning. Early twenties, a bit awkward, blond hair sticking up like he never learned what a comb was. Polite, harmless. He had offered to help her with the heavier boxes, but she’d declined.

Now he stood on the other side of her door at 2 a.m.

Her hand hovered above the chain lock.

“Is something wrong?” she asked through the wood, voice soft but controlled.

“I….yeah.” He hesitated.

 “It’s probably nothing. But I saw… a man earlier. Outside your door.”

Elara’s stomach clenched.

A man.

Her mind leapt immediately to Damien, to the black car, to the man in the elevator.

She swallowed. “What did he look like?”

Kyle shifted nervously on the other side.

“It was dark. But he was tall. Dark coat. He just… stood there for a while and then left. Didn’t knock.”

Her heartbeat faltered.

The man in the elevator had left on the first floor.

But he had somehow reached the fifth.

“Are you sure he didn’t knock?” she asked.

“Yeah.” Kyle paused. 

“I only noticed because I heard him whispering.”

Elara’s blood turned to ice.

“Whispering what?”

“I’m not sure, but it sounded like he said your name.”

Her legs nearly gave beneath her.

“Elara? Are you still there?”

“Y…yes,” she managed, gripping the doorknob for support.

 “Thank you for telling me. Really.”

“If it happens again, call me. Or the building guard. Or, anyone.” He exhaled shakily. 

“People like that shouldn’t be wandering around.”

Her lips parted.

People like that?

Kyle’s voice lowered.

“Elara… you know this place, right? It’s safe. Mostly students, older folks. But something about that guy felt wrong.”

She didn’t need the reminder.

She could feel it in her bones.

“I’ll be fine,” she whispered. 

“Thank you. Really.”

He hesitated, then footsteps drifted away down the hall.

Elara slowly stepped back from the door.

Her whole body shook.

A man outside her door. Whispering her name.

The elevator stranger…

Or Damien’s spy?

She couldn’t know.

Not yet.

She moved carefully through the apartment, checking every window, every closet, every corner twice. She double-checked the locks. Triple-checked the chain.

Her eyes burned with exhaustion.

But sleep was impossible.

Not tonight.

***

Hours later, dawn peeled across the city. Pale gold light filtered through her curtains, illuminating her living room. Elara sat rigidly on the edge of the couch, feeling hollowed out.

At least the sun brought clarity.

As soon as she could breathe again, she called her lawyer.

Juliette answered on the first ring.

“Elara?”

Her voice trembled with fatigue. “I left him.”

A slow, deep exhale came through the line. “Good. But you need to be careful now. Damien is…”

“I know what he is.”

“Elara,” Juliette said gently, “Damien Hale doesn’t lose. Not publicly, not emotionally, not legally. He will retaliate. And he will escalate.”

Elara’s voice hardened.

“I’m not going back.”

“No,” Juliette agreed, “you aren’t. 

But listen to me… Damien will send someone before he acts himself. He always does.”

A chill spread through Elara’s chest.

Juliette didn’t know about the man in the elevator.

Or the whispering outside her door.

Or the black sedan that followed her to the apartment.

“Elara?” Juliette said softly. 

“Is there something you’re not telling me?”

Elara closed her eyes.

“There was a man.”

Silence.

Then…

“Describe him.”

She tried. But how could she? The stranger’s presence lingered like smoke in her memory. Dark, heavy and unsettling.

 A man with eyes too sharp, posture too calm, attention too focused.

“I don’t know who he was,” she whispered. “But he knew I was alone.”

Juliette inhaled sharply.

“Elara… Damien keeps private operatives. Men who make problems disappear. If he sensed you were planning to leave.”

“He did,” Elara whispered. “He came home early last night.”

Juliette cursed under her breath.

“Elara, pack what you can. You can’t stay in that apartment.”

Elara pressed a trembling hand to her chest.

“Where would I even go?”

“I’ll arrange a temporary safehouse,” Juliette said quickly. “Anonymously. I’ll send you the address. Leave soon as you can.”

Before Elara could respond, her phone buzzed again.

And this time it wasn't message.

A notification from the building security app automatically installed when she moved in.

Motion detected: Hallway on the 5th floor.

Elara’s breath hitched.

Another alert.

Motion detected: Outside your door.

She looked toward the door.

A shadow moved under it.

Slow.

Silent.

Patient.

“Elara?” Juliette whispered through the phone. “What’s happening?”

Elara froze, staring at the slight shift of darkness beneath the wood.

Someone was out there.

Again.

“Juliette…” she breathed, voice trembling. “Someone’s at my door.”

The shadow paused.

Then…

A soft, controlled voice drifted into her apartment through the crack under the door.

Calm.

Cold.

Unmistakable.

“Elara. Open the door.”

Her heart stopped.

Not Damien.

Worse.

The man from the elevator.

The knock didn’t come.

It didn’t have to.

Just the sound of his voice, quiet, composed, devastatingly calm was enough to freeze the breath in Elara’s throat.

“Elara,” the man repeated softly, as if he’d been saying her name all his life.

“Open the door.”

Juliette’s voice crackled through the phone.

“Elara? Who is it? Is it Damien?”

Elara could barely speak, but she forced the words out in a whisper.

“It’s the man… the one from the elevator.”

Juliette swore under her breath. “Do not open that door. Do you hear me? Not under any circumstance. Stay quiet. I’m calling the police.”

“No.” Elara pressed her hand over her mouth, trying to steady her breathing. “If he hears you on the phone…”

“Elara, he shouldn’t know your name. This is serious. He could…”

“Elara?”

His voice slipped through the bottom of the door again, too close, too controlled.

“I know you’re awake.”

Her pulse stuttered painfully.

He wasn’t threatening.

He wasn’t shouting.

He wasn’t even impatient.

He sounded… certain.

Like opening the door was inevitable.

“Elara,” Juliette whispered frantically. “Move away from the door. Now. Do it quietly.”

Elara swallowed hard and took one slow step backward.

The shadow under the door shifted.

Following her movement.

Her blood ran cold.

How could he possibly know?

“Elara.”

Still calm.

Still sure.

“I’m not here to hurt you. Open the door.”

Her chest tightened, sweat beading across her palms.

Juliette’s voice cut sharply through the tension.

“Listen to me. You need to go out the back exit. Right now. Leave your things, just go.”

Elara took another cautious step backwards 

A soft exhale came from the other side of the wood.

“Elara… Don’t run.”

Her breath hitched violently.

It wasn’t a threat.

It was a warning.

The doorknob turned.

Silently. Smoothly.

Her heart lurched.

The chain held.

Thank God, the chain held.

But the knob twisted again.

And again.

Testing.

Assessing.

Learning the lock.

“Elara, MOVE!” Juliette hissed.

Elara forced her legs into motion. She backed away from the door, one shaky step at a time, eyes locked on the metal chain trembling with each movement of the knob.

Then

The twisting stopped.

Silence.

A long moment stretched between them.

Her breath came in shallow bursts.

Then his voice, barely a whisper.

“You’re in danger.”

Elara froze.

His tone had shifted.

Gone was the calm certainty.

What replaced it was low, urgent, almost… protective.

“If you stay in the apartment,” he murmured, “you won’t survive the night.”

A chill shot through her.

“Elara,” Juliette whispered through the speaker, “GO.”

Elara didn’t need more prompting.

She turned and hurried through the apartment, grabbing only her purse and the folder of documents from the table. She didn’t take clothes. Didn’t take toiletries.

Just the essentials.

Just her unborn daughter.

She flicked off the lights, plunging the apart

ment into darkness, then slipped through the kitchen and out the back door, an emergency exit leading to an outdoor stairwell.

Cold air slapped her face.

Her lungs seized.

No footsteps behind her.

No voice.

No shadow.

For a moment she thought she had escaped the stranger’s notice, until she reached the bottom of the stairwell and frozed cause she felt it was all a dream.