Chapter Five

  I don’t wait for the elevator.

  

  I run.

  

  Heart hammering, breath short, heels slamming against the marble floors as I tear through the lobby. The stunned doorman calls after me, but I don’t stop. I don’t look back.

  

  The note burns in my grip.

  

  Your husband-to-be isn’t who he says he is.

  

  Those words won’t leave my head. They rattle through my skull, louder than my own thoughts.

  

  Someone broke into my apartment.

  

  Someone was there.

  

  Watching.

  

  Waiting.

  

  And they left me this, a warning I don’t understand.

  

  I reach Ethan’s private penthouse, fists clenching. My chest heaves as I slam my fist against the door.

  

  “Ethan!”

  

  Silence.

  

  I pound harder. “Open the damn door!”

  

  Nothing.

  

  A cold shiver races through me.

  

  Then—

  

  Click.

  

  The door swings open.

  

  Ethan stands there.

  

  No jacket. Sleeves rolled up. Hair slightly tousled like he’s been running his hands through it.

  

  Calm. Controlled. Like he didn’t just destroy my life.

  

  His gaze sweeps over me, settling on the crumpled paper in my hands. His jaw tightens—a small shift, but I catch it.

  

  A crack in the mask.

  

  “Where did you get that?” His voice is quiet. Controlled.

  

  I shove it at him. “Someone broke into my apartment, Ethan!” My voice shakes. “They left this.”

  

  He takes the note. His fingers linger over the edges, almost like he already knows what it says.

  

  Like he’s seen it before.

  

  He doesn’t speak.

  

  Doesn’t even look at me.

  

  My pulse pounds.

  

  “Who are you really, Ethan?”

  

  Silence.

  

  A thick, suffocating silence.

  

  Then—

  

  He finally looks up.

  

  And what I see freezes me in place.

  

  Not confusion.

  

  Not anger.

  

  Not even surprise.

  

  Just… acceptance.

  

  Like this moment was inevitable.

  

  Like he knew this would happen.

  

  His lips part.

  

  And the words that come next change everything.

  

  “If I tell you, Isabella…”

  

  He takes a step forward.

  

  Slow. Deliberate.

  

  His scent—clean, sharp and dangerous fills the space between us.

  

  “…you’ll never be able to leave.”

  

  A warning. A threat. A promise.

  

  My breath catches.

  

  But I don’t back down. “Then tell me.”

  

  Ethan watches me.

  

  Testing. Calculating.

  

  Then, he exhales and turns away.

  

  “Follow me.”

  

  The Truth… or the Lie?

  

  Ethan leads me through the penthouse.

  

  Past the grand living room. The sleek bar stocked with expensive whiskey.

  

  Into his office.

  

  A single lamp glows, casting long shadows against the dark wood shelves.

  

  He walks behind his desk, opens a drawer.

  

  My pulse spikes.

  

  Gun? Knife? More lies?

  

  Instead—

  

  He pulls out a folder.

  

  Thick. Heavy. Locked.

  

  He places it between us.

  

  “This,” he says, tapping the cover, “is everything.”

  

  I swallow hard. “Everything?”

  

  “The truth.” His gaze pins me. “Or at least, enough of it.”

  

  I reach for it.

  

  But his fingers clamp down.

  

  A slow, deliberate shake of his head.

  

  “Not yet.”

  

  I stiffen. “Ethan”

  

  “You have a choice, Isabella.”

  

  His voice is smooth. Deadly.

  

  “If you open this, there’s no turning back.”

  

  A chill spreads through me.

  

  I don’t move.

  

  I should. I should grab the folder, rip it open, demand answers

  

  But I don’t.

  

  Because something in Ethan’s eyes tells me…

  

  Once I know, I won’t be safe.

  

  He exhales slowly.

  

  “Walk away now,” he continues, “and I’ll keep you out of this. You can leave. Forget the contract. Forget me.”

  

  His fingers tighten over the folder.

  

  “But if you stay…”

  

  A long pause.

  

  Then low. Dark. Final.

  

  “…you become part of the game.”

  

  My stomach twists.

  

  I don’t blink. Don’t breathe.

  

  Because deep down, I already know

  

  I’ve been part of this game from the moment I met him.

  

  The Choice

  

  I reach for the folder.

  

  Ethan’s fingers tighten over it just for a second before he lets go.

  

  A test.

  

  One last chance to walk away.

  

  I ignore the warning in his eyes and flip open the cover.

  

  Inside—

  

  My breath catches.

  

  Photos. Documents. Names I don’t recognize.

  

  But one thing stands out.

  

  Ethan’s face.

  

  Younger. Harder. Different.

  

  Not the polished billionaire. Not the man I thought I knew.

  

  The pictures aren’t boardrooms or charity events.

  

  They’re grainer. Darker. Bloodier.

  

  A mugshot.

  

  My chest tightens.

  

  A police report, barely legible beneath redacted lines.

  

  Then, a single headline.

  

  “Ethan Calloway—Presumed Dead.”

  

  No.

  

  My pulse skips.

  

  This is a mistake. A joke. A lie.

  

  But Ethan doesn’t look surprised.

  

  He doesn’t say a word.

  

  I shove the folder back. “What is this?”

  

  He leans forward, eyes locked on mine. “The truth.”

  

  I shake my head. “No. You’re lying.”

  

  “I warned you.” His voice is calm. Controlled. Deadly.

  

  I stand too fast. The chair scrapes against the hardwood.

  

  The walls feel too close. The air too thin.

  

  This can’t be real.

  

  I take a step back. Then another.

  

  Ethan watches me. Unmoving. Unblinking.

  

  Like a predator waiting for me to run.

  

  And I do.

  

  Nowhere to Run

  

  I make it to the door.

  

  My fingers curl around the handle—

  

  “Leave, Isabella,” Ethan says quietly, “and I can’t protect you.”

  

  I freeze.

  

  The weight of his words slams into me.

  

  Not a threat.

  

  A warning.

  

  I swallow hard. “From who?”

  

  His eyes flicker with something cold.

  

  “You already know.”

  

  A chill creeps down my spine.

  

  The note. The break-in.

  

  Someone wanted me to see this.

  

  Someone knew I’d come running to Ethan.

  

  And now—

  

  They’re watching.

  

  I release the door handle.

  

  Turn back slowly.

  

  “Who are you, Ethan?” My voice is barely a whisper.

  

  For the first time, his expression shifts.

  

  Something raw. Almost… regretful.

  

  Then it’s gone.

  

  And all he says is—

  

  “Someone you shouldn’t trust.”

  

  The phone on his desk rings.

  

  Ethan doesn’t move.

  

  But something in his eyes changes.

  

  Like he was expecting this call.

  

  Like he already knows what’s coming next.

  

  The air in the room turns electric.

  

  The phone keeps ringing.

  

  He lets it ring twice more before answering.

  

  Ethan brings it to his ear.

  

  Listens.

  

  His jaw tightens.

  

  Then—click.

  

  He hangs up.

  

  Turns to me.

  

  “Pack a bag,” he says.

  

  I blink. “What?”

  

  Ethan moves fast, grabbing his jacket, shoving the folder back into the drawer.

  

  “We’re leaving.”

  

  I stare at him, heart racing. “Where?”

  

  He doesn’t answer.

  

  Because outside—

  

  A car screeches to a stop.

  

  My stomach drops.

  

  Ethan strides to the window, pulling back the curtain.

  

  His entire body goes still.

  

  I move closer, but he holds up a hand. “Don’t.”

  

  I stop.

  

  Tires crunch on pavement.

  

  Footsteps.

  

  Then—

  

  A knock.

  

  Sharp. Measured.

  

  Ethan looks at me.

  

  For the first time since I met him

  

  I see fear in his eyes.