Chapter 4

Chapter 4

Maya's hands were white-knuckled on the steering wheel as she stared at the black sedan. The engine ticked as it cooled, each sound unnaturally loud in the concrete tomb of the parking garage. She had two choices: turn around and run, or walk into Ethan's penthouse and pretend everything was fine.

Running would confirm his suspicions. Staying might get her caught.

Maya took a shaky breath and got out of the car.

The elevator ride to the top floor felt like descending into hell. Her reflection in the mirrored walls showed a composed woman in a designer coat, her hair perfect, her makeup flawless. But inside, Maya was screaming.

Someone knows. Someone threatened me. Who?

The elevator doors opened with a soft chime.

Ethan was waiting in the foyer, still in his work suit, tie loosened. He looked furious. Behind him, Maya could see his mother Catherine sitting in the living room, a glass of wine in her hand, watching like a predator.

"You're late," Ethan said coldly.

"Traffic," Maya lied smoothly, stepping inside. The door closed behind her with a final-sounding click. "You said we needed to talk?"

"We do." Ethan grabbed her arm—not hard enough to hurt, but firm enough to control. He led her into the living room where Catherine sat. "Sit down."

Maya sat, crossing her legs elegantly, keeping her face neutral. Inside, her mind was racing through possibilities. What did they know? What had they found?

"Where were you tonight?" Ethan asked, standing over her like an interrogator.

"Shopping," Maya said. "For the wedding."

"Alone?"

"Yes, alone. Why?"

Catherine set down her wine glass with a delicate clink. "Darling, you've been acting very strangely lately. Distant. Secretive. Ethan is concerned. We all are."

"I'm just stressed about the wedding," Maya said, meeting Catherine's cold gaze. "It's a lot of pressure."

"Is it?" Ethan's voice was dangerous. "Or is there something else? Someone else?"

Maya's heart stopped. Did he know about Daniel? Had the tail reported back already?

"I don't know what you mean," she said carefully.

Ethan pulled out his phone and turned it toward her. On the screen was a photo—grainy, taken from a distance. Maya sitting in a coffee shop booth. Across from her, Daniel's profile, partially obscured but recognizable.

"Who is he?" Ethan demanded.

Maya forced herself to look confused. "A friend. Why are you having me followed?"

"Answer the question," Catherine interjected sharply. "Who is this man?"

"His name is Daniel. He's just a friend from college. We ran into each other and caught up over coffee. That's all." The lies came easier now, smooth as silk. "Why is this such a problem?"

"Because you've been lying to me," Ethan said, his voice rising. "You've been sneaking around, avoiding my calls, acting like you don't want to marry me. So I'll ask you one more time, Maya. What the hell is going on?"

Maya stood up, letting anger replace fear. "What's going on is that you're having me followed like some kind of criminal. You're interrogating me like I'm on trial. And you're listening to your mother instead of trusting your fiancée." She turned to Catherine. "Is this what marriage to your son looks like? Being spied on and controlled?"

Catherine's eyes flashed. "Watch your tone—"

"No." Maya's voice was steel. "I've been nothing but loyal to Ethan, to this family. And this is how you treat me? By having me followed? By assuming the worst?"

It was a risky play. But Maya knew Ethan's psychology from three years of marriage. He liked control, but he also liked the idea of being the good guy, the reasonable one. She needed to flip the script, make him feel guilty instead of suspicious.

For a moment, Ethan's expression wavered. "Maya—"

"I think I should go," Maya said, grabbing her purse. "Call me when you're ready to apologize."

She walked toward the door, praying her legs wouldn't give out. Three steps. Four. Five.

"Wait."

Maya stopped but didn't turn around.

Ethan's voice was softer now, almost pleading. "Don't go. Please. I'm sorry. You're right. I shouldn't have had you followed. I just... I've been worried about you. You're different lately."

Maya turned slowly, letting him see the hurt on her face. "Different how?"

"Stronger," Ethan admitted. "More independent. It scares me. I'm afraid I'm losing you."

Good. Let him be afraid.

"You're not losing me," Maya lied. "I'm just... trying to figure out who I am outside of being your fiancée. Is that so wrong?"

Ethan crossed the room and pulled her into his arms. Maya forced herself not to flinch. His cologne—once comforting—now made her stomach turn.

"No," he murmured into her hair. "It's not wrong. I'm sorry, Maya. I love you."

The words felt like acid. In her previous life, Maya had waited three years to hear those words. He had never said them. Not once. And now, when they meant nothing, when they were just another manipulation, he said them freely.

"I love you too," Maya whispered, hating herself for the lie.

Catherine watched them with narrowed eyes, clearly not buying the reconciliation. But she said nothing.

Maya stayed another hour, playing the role of the devoted fiancée, before claiming exhaustion and heading home. Ethan insisted on having his driver take her, another form of control disguised as care.

In the car, Maya's phone buzzed. Unknown number.

Her blood froze. The same person who had threatened her before?

She opened the message.

"Smart play tonight. But it won't save you. Back down or everyone you love will pay. This is your last warning."

Maya's hands shook as she typed back: "Who are you?"

No response.

The car pulled up to her building. Maya thanked the driver mechanically and stumbled inside, barely making it to her apartment before her legs gave out. She slid down the door, phone clutched in her trembling hand.

Someone knew. Someone was watching. And they were threatening not just her, but everyone she loved.

Daniel. They had to mean Daniel.

Maya called his number from memory, no longer caring about caution. It rang four times before going to voicemail.

"Daniel, it's me. Call me back immediately. We have a problem."

She hung up and waited, staring at her phone, willing it to ring.

Minutes passed like hours. Finally, it buzzed.

But it wasn't Daniel.

It was a video message. Unknown sender.

Maya's finger hovered over the play button. Every instinct screamed not to open it. But she had to know.

She pressed play.

The video was dark, shot from above. It showed a parking garage—the same one where she and Daniel had met earlier. She watched herself get out of her car, walk toward Daniel. They talked. He handed her something.

Someone had filmed them. Someone had evidence of their meetings.

But the video kept playing. The timestamp advanced. Hours later, long after Maya had left. The camera showed a figure approaching Daniel's car. Male, wearing a black jacket and baseball cap, face obscured.

The figure pulled something from his pocket.

A gun.

Maya's scream caught in her throat as she watched the figure fire through Daniel's car window. Once. Twice. Three times.

The figure walked away calmly, got into a black sedan—the same one she'd seen tonight—and drove off.

The video ended.

Maya dropped her phone like it was burning her. No. No, no, no.

She called Daniel's number again. No answer.

Again. No answer.

Her phone buzzed with a text.

"This is what happens when you don't listen. Daniel Torres is dead. And you're next unless you stop this investigation immediately. You have 24 hours to destroy all evidence. If you go to the police, if you tell anyone, more people die. Starting with Daniel's sister. We're watching you, Maya. Every move."

Maya couldn't breathe. The room spun. Daniel was dead. Because of her. Because she had involved him in her revenge.

Another text came through, this time with a photo. A young woman—Daniel's sister—walking out of a grocery store, completely unaware of the camera following her.

"24 hours. Choose wisely."

Maya's phone slipped from her fingers and clattered to the floor.

She had killed Daniel. Her quest for revenge had gotten an innocent man murdered. And now his sister was in danger. How many more people would die because of her?

Maya's hands covered her mouth as sobs wracked her body. In her previous life, the apocalypse had killed billions. But at least then, it wasn't her fault.

This blood was on her hands.

Her phone rang, making her jump. She scrambled for it.

Daniel's number.

Hope exploded in her chest. Maybe the video was fake. Maybe it was a threat, not reality.

"Daniel?" she gasped, answering.

"Not quite," a male voice said. Cold. Amused. "But I did enjoy using his phone. He won't be needing it anymore."

"Who are you?" Maya's voice broke. "Why are you doing this?"

"Because someone paid me to. And they paid very well." The man laughed. "You really thought you could take down Ethan Hart? That's adorable. The Hart family has people everywhere, Maya. Police, judges, investigators. Did you think they wouldn't find out?"

Ethan. This was Ethan's doing.

"What do you want?" Maya whispered.

"I already told you. Destroy the evidence. All of it. And then you're going to marry Ethan Hart like a good little girl. You're going to smile and say your vows and never speak of this again. Because if you don't..." The man's voice dropped to a deadly purr. "I will kill everyone you've ever cared about. Starting with Daniel's sister. Then his mother. Then anyone who has ever been kind to you. I will make you watch as I destroy every good thing in your life. Do you understand me?"

Maya couldn't speak. Couldn't breathe.

"Good," the man said. "Oh, and Maya? Welcome to the Hart family. You're going to fit right in."

The line went dead.

Maya sat on her apartment floor, her entire body shaking, Daniel's blood on her conscience and a countdown ticking in her head.

Twenty-four hours to choose: abandon her revenge and let Ethan win, or fight back and watch innocent people die.

But there was a third option forming in her mind. A desperate, terrible option.

Because in twelve days, the apocalypse would begin. The temperature would drop to negative forty degrees. Power would fail. And in the chaos of a frozen world, people disappeared every day.

Including hired killers.

Including the Hart family.

Maya picked up her phone with trembling hands and opened her notes app. She began typing, planning, calculating.

If she couldn't beat them before the freeze, she would survive it. And in the aftermath, when civilization had crumbled and the old rules no longer applied, she would make every single person who had hurt her pay.

But first, she had to figure out if Daniel was truly dead.

And if he wasn't—if there was any chance he had survived—she had to find him before the killer finished the job.

Maya grabbed her coat and headed for the door. She had twenty-four hours to save Daniel, expose the truth, and survive.

The countdown had begun.