Chapter Nine:

Aurora's POV

"Who sent that?"

Sebastian's voice is closer now. I did not hear him move, but he is right beside me, looking down at the phone still glowing in my hand.

I lock the screen before he can see clearly.

"No one." "You went pale."

"I didn't." "You're still pale."

I look up at him and find his face closer than I expected. Close enough that I can see the small tension lines at the corners of his eyes. Close enough that stepping back would feel like an admission.

So I don't step back.

"Do you always watch strangers this closely?" I ask.

"Only the ones who look like they just saw something that scared them." That lands somewhere uncomfortable in my chest. I slip the phone into my clutch and force my shoulders to relax. "I'm not scared." "Then why won't you show me the message?"

Because the message is about you. Because whoever is watching me wants me near you and away from Damien. Because I don't know if that makes you safe or dangerous, and I cannot afford to guess wrong, "Because it's none of your business," I say instead.

He watches me for a second longer than feels neutral.

Then he nods once. "Fair. "I blink.

I expected him to push. Men like him always push. They are used to doors opening the moment they lean against them. But Sebastian Reed just accepted a no from a woman he had known for less than an hour and moved on, as it cost him nothing.

That throws me more than the message did. "You should go back to the dinner," I say.

"So should you." "I need a minute."

"Take two. I'll wait." My eyes narrow. "Why?"

He tilts his head slightly. "Because you're standing in a dark corridor alone after receiving something that clearly rattled you, and I don't like the idea of walking away from that."

I open my mouth to argue. He cuts me off. "Call it old-fashioned." "I'd call it unnecessary." "Noted." He does not move; I stare at him. He stares back.

Something strange settles between us then. Not tension exactly. Something quieter. As we both know, this conversation is happening on two levels, and neither of us is ready to name the second one out loud.

"You don't know me," I say finally.

"No." His voice drops slightly. "But I'd like to."

The honesty in it catches me off guard.

In my first life, I never stood this close to Sebastian Reed. I never heard his voice drop like that. I never felt the strange weight of his attention pressing gently against every wall I have built since waking up in this second chance.

I don't know what to do with it.

So I do the only thing that feels safe.

I lie. "Nothing is interesting to know." His mouth curves. Not quite a smile. "I doubt that very much."

Before I can respond, footsteps echo down the corridor behind us. Both of us turn at the same time. Megan appears at the far end, her silhouette sharp against the light spilling from the main hall. She stops when she sees us.

Her eyes move from Sebastian to me.

Then back again.

Then she smiles.

"There you are, sister." Her voice carries sweetly down the corridor. "Damien is looking for you." Of course he is.

I step away from Sebastian without looking at him. "I'm coming." Megan's smile does not waver. "He seems worried. You've been gone a while."

"I was getting air." "In a corridor?" Her eyes flick to Sebastian one more time, measuring, filing. "With company?"

Sebastian answers before I can. "I was asking Miss Sinclair about her work. " His voice is smooth. Professional. Giving Megan absolutely nothing to use. "She mentioned she's a designer."

Megan's smile tightens at the edges. "She is. Very talented. Though she doesn't always know how to show it."

I hold her gaze. "I'm learning."

Something flickers behind her eyes.

Good.

She recovers quickly. "Well, Damien is waiting." She turns and starts walking back toward the light, clearly expecting me to follow.

I do.

But not before I feel Sebastian's gaze on my back, steady and unmoved, like he is memorizing the way I walk away from him.

The main hall feels louder than before when I step back into it. Brighter. Sharper around the edges. Damien is standing near his father's table with a glass in his hand and a smile on his face that does not reach his eyes.

He sees me immediately.

His expression does not change, but his body does. Shoulders squaring. Chin lifting. The posture of a man preparing to reclaim something he thinks belongs to him.

He meets me halfway across the room.

"Where were you?" Low. Controlled.

"Getting air."

"For twenty minutes?"

"I wasn't counting."

His jaw tightens. "People noticed you were gone." "Then they weren't paying attention to the right things." His hand finds my elbow again. Not tight this time. Careful. The grip of someone who knows he is being watched and wants to look tender instead of controlling.

"You're different tonight," he says quietly.

"Maybe I'm just tired."

"You're not tired." His thumb presses into the inside of my arm. "You're somewhere else. And I don't like not knowing where." For one second, I almost feel something close to guilt. Then I remember what he does with my designs. What he takes from me. What he lets happen while pretending to love me.

The guilt dies before it can breathe.

"I'm right here," I say. "Where else would I be?"

He studies me for a long moment. Then his phone buzzes. He pulls it out, glances at the screen, and goes very still. I watch his face change in real time. Confusion first. Then something colder.

"What is it?" I ask.

He doesn't answer.

He turns the phone toward me instead.

On the screen is a photo.

Sebastian and I are standing in the corridor. Taken from the same angle as the one I received. Close. Intimate. My face turned toward his.

And beneath it, a message. She's not yours anymore, Cross. And she never really was. My blood goes cold.

Damien looks at me, and for the first time since I came back, I see something in his eyes that I have never seen before.

Not anger.

Not jealousy, but fear, real fear.

The kind that comes when a man realizes the thing he thought he controlled has already slipped out of his hands, and he has no idea when it happened.

"Who sent this?" he asks.

I don't have an answer.

Because whoever is watching me just sent the same photo to both of us, and they are no longer hiding in the shadows. They are making moves. The unknown messenger just sent the same photo to Aurora and Damien at the same time.

They are done watching; they are done waiting.

And Aurora just realized she is not the only one being played tonight.