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The New Pawn.
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2025-10-08 05:51:36
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How To Love A Murderer. Flashbacks
Chapter Twenty-Nine: Flashbacks Ian stared into the mug like it held all the answers. The tea was too sweet. Everything felt wrong here, but at least it was a different kind of wrong. “The sugar’s too much, John. I only take two,” he said, placing the mug back on the coffee table with a soft clink. His stomach was in too many knots to drink it anyway. “Oh, my bad,” John shrugged, settling onto the couch beside him. “So, let me get this straight. You basically ran away from your billionaire boyfriend and his penthouse palace?” Ian managed a weak smile. “I didn’t run. I’m… taking a break. Zhedya is just… a lot. He’s too controlling, I think. I mean, I know he means well, but…” "Look, man, I get it,” John said, his tone turning serious. “The guy sounds intense. But... are you sure you're not exaggerating?” “He's a powerful CEO, and you're the journalist who almost got killed. Maybe he's just... pathologically worried about you?" Ian turned to him, and in the soft light of the apar
How To Love A Murderer. Cracks in the Foundation.
Chapter Twenty-Eight: Cracks in the FoundationIan stared at the blinking cursor on his laptop screen. It was supposed to feel like freedom, being out of the penthouse, but his mind was just as trapped as his body had been. The words wouldn’t come. Nothing felt real anymore.“Ian.”The voice was soft, but it made him jump. His head snapped up to find Callista sliding into the chair opposite him. A cold dread, sharp and immediate, coiled in his stomach."Callista?" he asked, his voice too tight. "How did you know I was here?"She studied him, a small frown line appearing between her brows. "This is the third time I've found you here. It's your spot. We had a long talk here, just about a month ago. Don't you remember?"He searched his memory, scrambling through the fog. Nothing. A complete, blank wall where that memory should be. The emptiness was terrifying."No. I don't," he said, the fear making him defensive. "Why are you following me?"“Oh, you haven’t been here for a while now,
How To Love A Murderer. The Unwanted Admirer.
Chapter Twenty-Seven: The Unwanted AdmirerIan stood frozen before the massive penthouse windows, watching the city pulse with a life he could no longer touch.He snatched his laptop bag. A park. The library. Anywhere with different air.He nearly made it to the door.“And where are you off to, my love?”Ian froze. Zhedya sat in a leather armchair, glasses perched on his nose, a tablet glowing in his hands. He hadn’t even looked up.“I’m going to the library,” Ian said, his voice tighter than he intended. “I can’t write in this… museum. I need a change of scenery.”Zhedya finally lowered the tablet, removing his glasses. The concern in his grey eyes was perfectly practiced. “I don’t think that’s a good idea. Not with your condition. The dizziness… what if it comes back in public? What if you fall? It’s safer here.”The words were a cage. A gilded, loving cage, but a cage all the same. Frustration boiled over.“I’m not an invalid, Zhedya!” Ian’s voice cracked. He ran a hand through hi
How To Love A Murderer. The Architect of Reality.
Chapter Twenty-Six: The Architect of RealityIan paced the living room like a caged animal, his heart hammering in his chest. Every time he closed his eyes, he sees Connor’s face, then Zhedya’s calm eyes. “Ian.”He flinched, spinning around quickly. Zhedya stood there, looking… defeated. He ran a hand through his perfect hair, messing it up. It was a look Ian had never seen on him before.“You were right,” Zhedya said, his voice raw. “I was a coward, Ian. I was so damn scared about losing you, I thought if I just hid from this, it all would go away. I was wrong”“But you… you’re so much braver than I am.”Ian’s stares at him, his eyes narrowed. “What are you talking about?”“We’ll go to Callista. Today,” Zhedya declared, his gaze intense. “We’ll tell her everything. The threats, the report I altered, my suspicions about who really killed Connor. No more secrets, Ian. We’re in this together.”A shaky wave of relief washed over Ian. Finally. He moved closer, cupping Zhedya’s face. H
How To Love A Murderer. The Patron of Monsters.
Chapter Twenty-Five: The Patron of MonstersThe penthouse was dripping with money and power. Ian felt like a stray dog that had wandered into a diamond store. Everywhere he looked, someone's watch cost more than his life."Relax," Zhedya's voice was a low purr in his ear, his hand a burning brand on Ian's lower back. "They aren’t monsters neither do they bite. Much.""I feel like I'm gonna puke on someone's thousand-dollar shoes," Ian muttered, fiddling with his tie.Zhedya just smirked. "You'll get used to it. This is your world now."Then the parade started. Zhedya dragged him from one stuffy suit to another. "Commissioner, meet Ian Parker. The genius behind 'Feral Minds'. He took down the Swift Strangler, you know. My brilliant boy."Ian wanted to sink through the floor. My boy. The words felt like a collar.Across the room, Callista watched it all go down with a bad feeling in her gut. Zhedya never let Ian breathe. If he wasn't touching him, his eyes were tracking him. It was cr
How To Love A Murderer. The New Pawn.
Chapter Twenty-Four: The New PawnIan’s thumb hovers just above the glowing call button…one tap, and the line would connect.But the door creaks open.He freezes. The card vanishes under his pillow like a magician’s trick.“Hey baby…”Zhedya steps in, leans down, and plants a kiss on his forehead. That smile…the kind that disarms. The kind that makes Ian want to believe everything’s okay.“You look… troubled,” Zhedya says softly, brushing a curl off Ian’s forehead. “Are you alright, my love?”“I’m okay,” Ian replies too quickly, tugging the blanket up to his chest like armor.A beat.A flick…then a faint hiss.A lighter sparks.The card curls into blackened ash between Zhedya’s fingers.He watches the flame consume it, unblinking.“Some fires… must start small,” he whispers, as the last ember dies in his palm.*****The next morning, soft clinks of porcelain echo.“I made you coffee. How do you feel?” Zhedya’s voice is gentle, almost too gentle.“I’m okay. Cut out too much questions,
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