Chapter Seven: Victoria's First Move

Myra POV

The text was still on my phone when I woke up.

I must have read it a dozen times. I didn’t reply, didn’t delete it, and didn’t tell anyone. Once, I deleted it, then pulled it back from the trash, locked my phone, and put it away. I went through that routine twice before eight in the morning.

Be careful what you think is real.

There was no name, no context, just an unknown number. That single line sat there, sharp and irritating, like a splinter I couldn’t stop touching.

I shoved my phone into my bag and headed for my nine o'clock lecture.

Victoria Blancham was waiting outside the lecture hall.

She wasn't making a scene, just standing there with a coffee she probably bought more for the setting than the taste. When she saw me, she smiled. It was the kind of smile that told me she had already made up her mind about our conversation.

"Myra. Walk with me."

She didn't wait for my answer.

We found a bench near the east courtyard, just out of earshot from the main path but close enough that leaving would draw attention. Victoria looked completely at ease.

"I'll be direct," she said.

"Please."

"What's happening between you and Danny needs to stop." She raised her hand to keep me from interrupting. "It's not that I dislike you. Things are going on that you don't fully understand, and the best thing I can do is tell you that now."

"Things are going on," I said.

"Business arrangements. Family commitments were made long before either of you came to that seminar." She slowly turned her coffee cup in her hands. "Danny has responsibilities he hasn't fully accepted yet. When he does, the best outcome is one where you've already stepped back."

"And what about the worst?"

She looked me in the eye. "It's the one where you haven't."

A group of students walked through the courtyard. One of them dropped a backpack, and laughter echoed across the path. Victoria waited for them to pass before she spoke again.

"You showed up in person," I said. "You could have just called."

"I wanted you to see that I mean this as a gesture of respect. It's not a threat."

"It still sounds like a threat."

"I know." She stood up and straightened her coat. "You're smart enough to realize when something costs more than it's worth." She looked at me a moment longer than usual. "I'm sorry, Myra. I mean it."

She left. I stayed on the bench and watched as the courtyard emptied, replaying her words in my mind the way you might test something sharp in your hand to see if it really cuts.

My phone buzzed.

Danny: Where are you? Studio's empty.

I started to type: Coming. Then I deleted it. I wrote: Had something come up. I sent it before I could second-guess myself. After that, I closed the app and headed to the library, trying to look like I knew what I was doing.

I didn't have a plan.

He found me anyway. Third floor, quiet section, nobody up there before noon. He sat across from me without asking. That was becoming a habit, and he looked at my face for two full seconds.

"What happened?"

"Nothing."

"Myra."

"I said nothing happened."

He leaned back, his jaw tight, and I could see him putting it all together, working out the next step before I even finished telling him where I stood. I watched it happen right in front of me and felt something change inside me that had nothing to do with Victoria.

"My mother," he said.

I didn't answer.

"She came to see you." His voice was flat. "This morning."

"It doesn't matter."

"It matters." His voice grew quieter, but it sounded even more intense. "She had no right."

"Danny." I closed my book. "What are you going to do about it?"

"Talk to her."

"And say what exactly?"

"That she needs to stay out of this."

I stared at him. "How did she know where we were yesterday? Did you tell anyone?"

"No."

"Then how?"

He picked up my pen from the table. Turned it over in his fingers and set it down. "I think she has someone watching." He said it carefully, like he'd been sitting on it since last night. "I don't know who yet. But I'm going to find out and handle it before it goes further."

My ribs locked. "You're going to handle it," I said.

"Yes."

"By yourself."

"I know how my family works, Myra. Let me handle it."

"Stop," I kept my voice low. "I am not a problem for you to handle. I'm not something you fix and then tell everyone it's done." I leaned in a little. "Too many people have already decided what's best for me. No one asks what I want. I don't need anyone else doing that."

He opened his mouth.

"Don't," I said.

He closed it.

The library was quietly busy around us. Someone a couple of rows away turned a page.

He picked up my pen again, then set it back down. I had never seen him fidget before.

"I'm trying to protect you," he said finally.

"I know you are." I stood and gathered my things. "That's the problem."

He said my name once as I pushed back my chair. He spoke softly. He didn’t try to stop me, just said it, like you say something out loud to check if it’s still real.

I walked to the stairs and didn’t look back.

I heard his chair slide quietly behind me. He didn’t get up to follow me; he stayed right where he was, lost in thought.

And Danny Blancham could be dangerous when he thought he had something to fix.