Chapter Twenty-Four No One Is Safe

Elena

I didn’t sleep.

Instead, I sat on the edge of my bed with every light in the house blazing, one hand gripping the cold handle of a kitchen knife, the other clenched around the phone like it was my only lifeline.

The silence was louder than screams.

Every creak of wood, every distant horn outside, every tap against the window felt like Sophie breathing down my neck.

But it wasn’t just fear keeping me awake—it was fury.

She crossed a line. Caleb wasn’t just a part of my life. He was my reason for breathing, my one constant in a world that had become a web of lies. And now, he was a target.

The thought made my vision blur.

When Jasper arrived, he didn’t speak right away. He walked into the house like he owned it, checked the locks, scanned the perimeter, and finally turned to me with that familiar hard look in his eyes—the look of a man ready to burn the world down.

“She sent you a picture of your son?” he asked quietly, though the rage simmering beneath his calm exterior was volcanic.

I nodded.

He didn’t flinch, didn’t curse.

But something in him snapped. I could see it. Feel it.

“You need to stay with me for a few days,” he said. “I’ve arranged for Caleb to have private security at school and after hours. Two men. Armed. Discreet.”

“I can’t keep running,” I whispered.

“You won’t be. You’re repositioning. There’s a difference.”

I stared at him, the tension between us like a taut wire.

Then he dropped the bombshell.

“I’ve been investigating Sophie for months.”

“What?” I blinked. “Why?”

“Because I didn’t believe Ava killed herself,” he said, stepping closer. “And I don’t believe Sophie is just a scorned ex. She’s methodical, manipulative, and psychopathic. She doesn’t want justice—she wants to own people. Control them. Break them.”

My pulse spiked. “You think she killed Ava?”

He reached into his coat and placed a file on the table between us.

Inside: hospital records, psychiatric reports, voice memos from Ava’s friends, an edited version of her death certificate with missing timestamps, and an anonymous tip logged to the internal complaints department the day before Ava’s death. The signature on the tip was blurred—but the language?

I recognized it.

Sophie.

“She was grooming Ava. Isolating her. Then when Ava tried to leave—she died.”

I covered my mouth with my hand, nausea rising.

“She’s going to try the same with you,” Jasper said. “But this time, we’re not going to let her win.”

I stood, adrenaline making my skin prickle. “Then let’s expose her. Go to the board. The police. Anyone—”

He cut me off with a bitter laugh. “She’s one step ahead. Already filed a report claiming you’ve been emotionally unstable, erratic with patients, possibly self-medicating. She’s seeding doubt everywhere.”

“She’s building a narrative,” I muttered. “Just like she did with Ava.”

“Exactly. That’s why we play smarter, not louder.”

I paced the floor, fury clawing at my throat.

“She touched my son, Jasper.”

He nodded. “Which means this isn’t about dignity anymore. This is war.”

My hands curled into fists. I didn’t want revenge.

I wanted her to never be able to hurt anyone again.

I wanted every woman she’d broken, every reputation she’d ruined, every soul she’d chipped away at—to be heard.

I turned to him. “So we go deeper. We find the skeletons. We drag them into the light.”

“And if we find nothing?” he asked.

I met his eyes, unblinking. “Then I’ll set the fire myself.”