Chapter 7.

Hulio.

We stumble into the room and freeze.

Devastation greets us completely.

A toppled plant. A shattered vase. A torn canvas slashed through the middle. Water pools on the marble floor, soaking into a cloth, scattered brushes and paper. Chaos painted in broad and visible strokes.

But no Alexa.

Odd and very alarming.

“Alexa?” Elviira’s voice breaks.

Usually poised, but now tinged with something unusual with her—fear.

I move forward, careful not to step into the puddle of water and smeared paint. My body tightens. Eyes scan the destruction. Something isn’t right. Too quiet. Too... staged.

My gaze shifts to the paintings on the wall. Life-sized portraits. Cityscapes. Wildflowers bursting with emotion. Utterly captivating. For a moment, I’m struck by her talent. Lost in this world she’s created here. But the admiration is short-lived.

Because then I see it. A flicker in the mirror across the room. Barely perceptible. But I see it. My critical eyes catch it.

A man. He’s Holding Alexa. His hand clamped over her mouth. A knife glinting at her throat.

Her eyes, widened, pleading. They meet mine in the mirror.

My stomach lurches. My hands curl into fists. My breathing increases rapidly.

I don’t move. Not yet. I school my features into calm. Mask the alarm now pounding in my chest.

“Elviira.” My voice is low, even. Calm, despite the storm brewing inside me. “I think we should get back to discussing business.”

She falters, confused. “But... where’s my granddaughter?”

“She’s fine. Just… around here somewhere.”

Elviira starts to protest, but I move, fast.

I toss the bucket of yellow paint beside me with precision.

Splash!

The man screams, high and hoarse. The paint splashing across his face, blinding him instantly.

“AHHHHH...!”

In the chaos, Alexa breaks free.

I’m there. Arms out. She crashes into me. Her body trembling, slick with paint. I catch her. Hold her tight. Protective.

Our eyes lock, again. This time not through the mirror. Fear still lingers in her eyes. But something else… trust.

And something in my chest unravels. Grating me, strangely.

“Are you alright?” It’s all I can say.

My voice rough with relief.

“No… no, I’m not...” Her voice cracks, and the sobs come.

Shaking. Raw. Honest.

And I hold her like I’ve known her all my life. I banish her monsters.

***

Alexa.

Breathing should be easy.

But it isn’t when it’s almost taken from you.

I can barely cling to the air left in my lungs. Hulio wraps me up, pulling me into safety—and something more. I cry into his chest, clinging to him, soaked in paint and fear.

How did he do that? How did he aim so perfectly? Blinding my captor, but sparing me?

My mind reels. My heart pounds. My body shakes, violently.

But I’m safe. Because he was there. Hulio was there. He got me in time.

“Alexa, oh my baby…” Grandma’s voice breaks through.

Her arms replace his. I collapse into her warmth. Her safety. She holds me like she’s afraid I’ll disappear.

And then,

“Who sent you?” Hulio’s voice slices through the tension like hard steel.

We turn to him. The man, the intruder, is on the ground now. Dragged from behind the alcove where he had hidden us. His face is stained with yellow paint. His jacket stained. His eyes squeezed shut in agony. He’s piercing groans, harsh.

The staff have begun to gather at the doorway, their gasps rising in a tide of confusion and alarm.

“Mrs. Hills, what happened?” the house manager asks, eyes wide.

“Call the police.” Grandma’s voice is sharp. Commanding. “Someone broke in to harm my granddaughter.”

“No...no! Please!”

The man gasps, curling inward.

“Don’t call the cops… I will speak!”

Silence.

Everyone stares. Waiting.

My heart crashes against my ribs.

“Who paid you?” Hulio steps forward, looming, dangerously.

His tone is ice.

The man hesitates. Paint dripping from his face. His eyes flutter open, blinking through yellow.

“Absalom Mage.”

Shock hits the room like a thunderclap.

Grandma’s hand tightens around me. Hulio’s jaw clenches. The name echoes through my mind. Absalom Mage...Dad’s accountant.