Chapter 5

 Penny’s POV

When I opened it, a tall man stood in the hallway, his shoulders broad, his jaw sharp, his dark eyes piercing. Lucas Zane was devastatingly handsome. He wore a fitted black suit and an expression of controlled calm, every inch the cold, untouchable CEO the novel had promised.

Then his gaze landed on me, and it softened.

It was a look that could make any woman weak in the knees. I couldn’t help wondering how the original Penny had resisted it for so many years.

“You rarely invite me over,” he said, stepping inside. “What’s wrong?”

Rarely was a generous word. According to Penny’s memories, she’d avoided him like he carried a plague. I felt a pang of something close to guilt on her behalf.

The novel had given me far more access to his thoughts than he knew. I remembered the chapters devoted to him, and I understood him better than I probably should have. He’d seen countless beautiful women in his career. Some had schemed against him, slipped into his hotel rooms, even thrown themselves at him with nothing on. He’d never so much as flinched.

But around Penny, he’d been helpless. His heart pounded like it wanted out of his chest, and his body heated whenever she was near. She’d looked at him like he was an obstacle, and he’d watched her from a distance for years.

He’d moved out of his luxury villa just to live across the hall from her, even knowing he couldn’t approach.

He’d known, too, that she wasn’t truly averse to him. She only behaved that way out of loyalty to Ivy. What he couldn’t understand was why anyone would sacrifice their happiness for a friend who didn’t care about her. And the part that made me ache was this: in the novel, he had seen straight through Ivy from the start. He knew she was like all the other women who’d thrown themselves at him, pretending to love him while chasing only his money and his power.

He didn’t want a woman like that. Only an innocent like Penny wouldn’t see something so obvious.

And yet, in the novel, strange things kept happening to him. Ivy appeared everywhere he went. She’d entered show business and shot to stardom on the back of a mediocre, badly directed drama. Brands had signed her for endorsements he couldn’t explain. He’d see her face on posters in the elevator, on billboards, on the screens at his own company. He’d overhear strangers gossiping about her in restaurants. It was as if some force was shoving her into his life, again and again.

What he never knew was that there really was a force doing exactly that. It was the female lead’s halo, the plot itself, trying to bind him to Ivy.

But Lucas had strong willpower. Somehow, he’d broken free of the plot’s control and could make his own decisions, even while the story kept trying to herd him toward the heroine. It nudged him, hinted at him, tried to plant a fascination he refused to feel. Strangely, the harder it pushed, the more fiercely he clung to Penny.

I closed the door behind him, thinking: I know exactly what you’ve been through. And I’m not going to waste another second of it.

He walked to the sofa, and I followed. He sat with the easy grace of a man who owned every room he entered. I fetched him a glass of water and sat across from him.

I met his gaze. “Lucas, I need you to trust me.”

One dark eyebrow rose. “I already do.”

“Okay.” I folded my hands. “If I ask you to do something that isn’t illegal or morally compromising, will you do it?”

“Of course,” he said, without a flicker of hesitation. “Just say the word.”

I drew a slow breath. The weight of seven days pressed against my ribs. “Something is coming. Not tomorrow. Not the day after. But soon. The kind of something that turns cities into kill zones and makes money worthless overnight. I can’t explain how I know. I can only ask you to prepare.”

His dark eyes stayed locked on mine. No mockery. No disbelief. Just quiet, intense focus.

“How soon?”

“Seven days. Maybe less if the first disasters hit early.”

He did not laugh. He did not ask if I was joking. He simply studied me the way he studied hostile takeovers looking for the fracture lines, the hidden leverage, the truth underneath the words.

“What do you need from me?”

“Keep your own people close. Move liquid assets into tangible resources fuel, water, non-perishables, secure locations outside the densest population centers. Fortify whatever properties you control. And…” I hesitated, then forced the words out. “Stay near me if you can. The building is being reinforced. It will be one of the safer places when it starts.”

Something shifted in his expression. Not surprise. Recognition, almost, as if he had been waiting for a version of me that finally looked at him without the wall of someone else’s feelings between us.

“You’re different tonight,” he said quietly.

“I had a very long nightmare. I decided not to live it twice.”

He set the glass down. “Then I’ll do what you ask. And when you’re ready to tell me the rest, I’ll listen.”

The sincerity in his voice landed harder than any declaration. In the first life he had never gotten the chance to say anything like it while I was still breathing.

I opened my mouth to answer…

The doorbell rang again.

Ivy’s voice floated through the wood, sweet and concerned. “Pen? I think I left my scarf earlier. Can I come in for a second?”

Lucas’s eyes narrowed a fraction. He had never liked Ivy. In the original timeline he had seen through her long before I had. The plot had tried to push them together anyway. He had refused.

I stood. “Stay here.”

I opened the door only wide enough to speak. Ivy stood in the hallway holding nothing. No scarf. Just the same bright, innocent smile and eyes that flicked past my shoulder, searching.

“I thought I left it on the couch,” she said.

“You didn’t. I’ll check later and text you.”

Her gaze sharpened. “Is someone here? I thought I heard”

“Goodnight, Ivy.”

I closed the door. Locked it. Turned back to Lucas.

He was already on his feet, expression unreadable.

“She doesn’t get access to this floor anymore,” I said. “Not after the renovations start. Not ever, if I can help it.”

Lucas studied me for a long moment. Then he nodded once, slow and deliberate.

“Understood.”

Outside the windows the city lights glittered like nothing was wrong. Inside, the air between us felt charged with every version of the future that was no longer written.

I did not know yet how hard the original script would fight to reassert itself. I only knew that the bangle was still on my wrist, the supplies were already stacked in a place no one else could reach, and the man who had once died for a softer version of me was still standing in my living room, waiting to see what I would do next.

Seven days.

The first wave would come whether I was ready or not.

But this time, when the dead began to walk and the sky turned against the living, I would not be the woman who handed over her only advantage with a smile.

I would be the one who kept it.

And I would not face the end alone.

A soft chime sounded from the tablet on the counter an early weather alert about unusual atmospheric readings that the original novel had never mentioned until the day everything collapsed.

Lucas’s gaze flicked to the screen, then back to me.

The plot had noticed the changes.

And it was already beginning to push back.