The smell of coffee woke Ava before the light did. Soft and rich, it floated through the hallway, curling around her senses like a whisper. She opened her eyes slowly, blinking at the unfamiliar warmth spreading across the sheets. For the first time since she stepped into Grayson Wolfe’s mansion, she hadn’t woken up tense. No nightmares. No heavy breath. Just…stillness. She sat up slowly and realized the house wasn’t entirely silent someone was moving in the kitchen. She slid out of bed, pulled on the oversized cardigan slung across the chair, and padded barefoot down the hall. She paused by the stairs. Grayson was in the kitchen. And he was making breakfast. He stood at the stove, sleeves rolled up, flipping something in a pan like it wasn’t the most unexpected thing she’d ever seen. There was no staff in sight. No housekeep
The knock on the door was soft. Almost uncertain. Grayson looked up from the pages he hadn’t really been reading. The fire crackled low in the library hearth, casting shadows against the dark wood shelves. His drink sat untouched on the table beside him. Then he heard it again. Another knock. Not demanding. Just… there. He rose and opened the door. Ava stood there. Hood pulled low over her head, rain speckled across her shoulders. She didn’t look angry. She didn’t look afraid. She looked tired. But her eyes were steady. “You’re soaked,” he said, quietly. She stepped in without waiting to be invited. “I didn’t come to fight,” she said. “I just came to talk.” He nodded. “Then let’s talk.” They sat in the quiet library, both too aware of the silence.
The apartment was small. Tucked between two shuttered shops and a laundromat that never seemed to close, it didn’t belong to anyone or maybe it belonged to too many people once. Still, it smelled like lavender, like someone had cared once. Like someone had tried to make it feel like home. Ava stood in the doorway, unsure. Marcus stepped past her and flipped the light switch. “It’s safe. Elena stayed here before she left the city.” Ava’s eyes scanned the room: a worn couch, a chipped coffee table, books stacked beside a dusty lamp. Quiet things. Safe things. The kind of place someone went when they didn’t want to be found but still hoped someone might look anyway. She moved slowly, fingertips grazing the edge of a photo frame on the wall. It was old. Faded. A woman with dark curls. Lila. She looked
Ava sat on the terrace, her coffee untouched and cold. The letter from Elena rested in her lap, its edges worn from being opened and closed too many times. Morning fog still clung to the trees, and the silence felt heavier than usual like it was waiting for something to break.Footsteps.Marcus stepped onto the terrace, hoodie on, hands shoved deep into his pockets. He paused when he saw her expression.“You read it,” he said quietly.Ava didn’t answer right away. Her eyes lifted slowly, clouded with a strange mix of urgency and betrayal.“You said you didn’t hear from her again after she disappeared.”“I didn’t.”“Then what is this?” She held out the letter, the ink slightly smudged from her fingers.Marcus’s jaw clenched. He took the paper with care, scanned it once, then nodded slowly. “It’s her handwriting.”“I know,” Ava said. Her voice cracked. “She mentioned me. Me. Why?”
The car ride home was quiet. Ava stared out the window, fingers pressed to her lips, trying to forget the way Vivian had said her name like it was borrowed. Like she wasn’t supposed to wear it at all. The city blurred into glass and color, but her mind refused to settle. She had walked through Wolfe International today not just as a visitor, but as someone Grayson Wolfe brought. That meant something. It had to. But she didn’t know what. And that was the problem. Back at the mansion, she wandered through the halls like she was searching for a version of herself she’d accidentally left behind. She ended up in the library. Tall shelves. Dusty warmth. Books stacked in cozy disobedience. She didn’t know what she was looking for until she saw the old mirror hanging crooked in the corner. She stood in front of it. Same face. Same eyes. But today, s
Ava hadn’t slept much the night before. Maybe it was nerves, or the heaviness of unanswered questions. But as the black car slowed in front of Wolfe International, she understood something else: she wasn’t just walking into a company today. She was walking into a past she didn’t remember agreeing to share. The building towered into the sky sleek, mirrored glass reflecting the world back in distorted perfection. It looked like a place where secrets dressed in suits. Grayson stepped out first and reached for her hand like it was second nature. She hesitated, then placed her fingers in his. Inside, the lobby was an echo chamber of polished marble and hushed conversations. Everyone turned when they entered subtle double takes, quiet whispers. Ava held her chin high, matching Grayson’s stride. She didn’t belong here. But she wouldn’t let anyone see that.