Chapter 30

Eliora's POV

I stared at the screen of my phone, my breath hitching in my throat. The three little dots appeared, dancing rhythmically as the anonymous sender typed a reply. Every second felt like an hour. Around me, the city hummed with life, taxis honking, people laughing in the distance, the smell of street food, but I felt like I was trapped in a vacuum of silence.

The roses lay at my feet, bruised and broken on the damp pavement, a discarded symbol of a brief moment of happiness I wasn't allowed to have.

My phone buzzed again.

"I want to see you lose everything, Eliora. I want to see the mighty CEO of Monroe Group crawl. I want to see that fake smile of yours shatter when the world finds out you're nothing but a liar playing house with a ghost."

My knees felt weak. I leaned back against the cold stone of the building, my fingers trembling so hard I almost dropped the phone. They know. The threat was clear. They were peeling back the layers of my life, one by one.

I didn't reply. My survival instincts, the ones that had kept me going through a divorce and a secret pregnancy, finally kicked in. I couldn't stay here. I was a sitting duck under this streetlamp.

I practically dove into the first taxi that slowed down. "Drive," I rasped to the driver. "Just go."

As the car pulled away, I kept my head down, staring at the photo they had sent. I zoomed in. The angle was slightly elevated, taken from across the street, likely from a parked car or a dark doorway. They had been right there. They had watched me walk in, and they had waited for me to come out.

Did they see Drew come in? Did they see how close Kian had been to me?

The thought of Ezra flashed through my mind like a lightning strike. If they were watching me, were they watching my home?

"Change of address," I told the driver, giving him the directions to my private villa, the one Kian didn't know about. The one where my heart lived.

…

The ride was a blur of neon lights and panic. When we finally pulled up to the gates of my home, I practically ran to the front door. I fumbled with the keys, my heart hammering a frantic rhythm against my ribs.

Inside, the house was warm and quiet, the scent of vanilla and lavender, Margaret’s favorite candles, filling the air. It was a sanctuary, but tonight, it felt like a cage with glass walls.

"Ms. Monroe? Is that you?" Margaret appeared at the top of the stairs, her face softening when she saw me. "You're home late. I thought you were staying at the—"

"Where is he?" I interrupted, my voice coming out in a frantic whisper.

"Ezra is fast asleep, dear. He had a long day at the park," Margaret said, her brow furrowing with concern as she descended the stairs. "Eliora, you look like you've seen a ghost. Your face is as white as a sheet."

I didn't answer. I brushed past her and ran up to Ezra's room. I pushed the door open softly. The nightlight cast a soft blue glow over the room. There he was—my son. He was sprawled out across his bed, his small hand clutching a plush toy, his breathing deep and even. He looked so much like Kian when he slept—the same stubborn set to his jaw, the same long lashes.

The sight of him usually brought me peace, but tonight, it brought a crushing weight of guilt. I was the reason he was in danger. My past, my secrets, my back and forth with Kian, it was all putting this innocent soul in the crosshairs of a monster.

I sank to the floor beside his bed, burying my face in my hands. I stayed there for a long time, just listening to him breathe, trying to find the strength to be the CEO everyone expected me to be.

….

My phone vibrated in my pocket. I jumped, my heart leaping into my throat.

It wasn't the anonymous number. It was Elijah.

I took a deep breath, trying to steady my voice before I answered. Elijah was my best friend, my ally, and the man the world believed was my future husband. He was the only reason the paparazzi hadn't completely devoured me yet. Though after our small argument he tried to stay away as much as possible. I think I hurt him.

That's what I do. Hurt people. 

"Hey," I whispered, stepping out into the hallway and closing Ezra's door.

"Eli? You sound terrible," Elijah’s voice was warm and grounded, the sound of a man who spent his days in courtrooms and his nights being my shield. "I just saw a notification that your car was towed near the Monroe group. What's going on? Are you okay?"

"I... I ran out of fuel, Elijah. It was a mess," I lied. The words felt like lead in my mouth. I couldn't tell him about the stalker. Not yet. Elijah would want to go to the police, and the police meant an investigation. An investigation meant the truth about Ezra might come out. "I'm home now. I'm just tired."

"Are you sure? Because Zoey called me earlier. She sounded worried about you disappearing for three days. She said you looked 'guilty red' this morning."

I leaned my head against the wall, closing my eyes. Zoey and her big mouth. "I was just taking care of business, Elijah. Kian’s investment in the company is... complicated. I had to be there to manage the board's expectations."

"Right. The 'investment,'" Elijah sighed. I could hear the skepticism in his voice. He hated Kian Donovan with a passion that rivaled Kian’s own possessiveness. "Just remember, Eli, we have that charity gala on Friday. Our 'engagement' needs to look ironclad. Kian is going to be there, and he’s going to be looking for any crack in the armor."

"I know," I said, my voice barely a whisper. "I’ll be there. I’ll be perfect."

"I know you will. Get some sleep, Eli. I'll check on you tomorrow."

I hung up, feeling like a fraud. I was engaged to one man, being hunted by another, and nearly kissed by my ex-husband while a mystery man with amber eyes was waiting for a payback date.

I walked down to the kitchen, where Margaret had left a cup of herbal tea for me. I sat at the island, staring at my phone.

I opened the message from the stalker one more time. What do you want from me? I had asked.

They hadn't replied to my last text, but as I sat there, a new notification popped up. It wasn't a text. It was an email.

I opened it, and my blood turned to ice once again.

It was a scanned copy of a birth certificate.

Name: Ezra Monroe Donovan.

Mother: Eliora Monroe.

Father: Kian Donovan.

Attached to the email was written:

"How much is this worth to the morning news, Eliora? Or should I send it to Kian first? I imagine he’d be very interested to know he has an heir he never met."

The tea cup slipped from my hand, shattering on the tile floor. The hot liquid splashed against my legs, but I didn't feel the sting.

The walls hadn't just closed in. They had collapsed.

The stalker didn't just want to ruin my reputation.

They wanted my son. And they were going to use the one person I feared most…Kian, to do it.