The Second Letter.

Sera's POV

His long fingers tightened around the strap of my purse, pulling it towards him.

Panic flared in my chest like a wildfire. If he opened that zipper, if he pulled out that handwritten note with the name Seraphina inked across it like that, everything would end right here in this Paris hotel room. My identity. Martha’s care. My entire life.

I didn't spend so much time thinking, I just acted.

I slammed my hands against his chest, shoving him back with every ounce of strength I had left. The sudden force caught him off guard, making him stagger a step backwards and loosening his grip on the bag.

I yanked the purse to my chest, holding it like a shield, my lungs heaving as I glared at him.

“You want to know what's in here?” I practically yelled, my voice cracking with fake, bitter outrage. “You want to know why I’m terrified out of my mind, Mr. Almighty Kingsley?”

Adrian straightened his shirt, his dark eyes narrowing into sharp, lethal slits. “I'm listening.”

My mind raced, frantically stitching together pieces of truth and fiction. I couldn't tell him about Seraphina. But I had to give him something real. Something solid enough to satisfy his annoyingly increasing curiosity.

“It’s an ex-associate,” I lied, forcing my voice to tremble just enough to convince him. “From back in New York. Before Hale Enterprises almost went bankrupt.”

Adrian’s expression remained unreadable, but his posture shifted slightly. “Go on.”

“He was... involved in the mess with my father,” I stammered, wrapping my arms tighter around the purse. “He lost millions when the company collapsed, and he blamed me. He started stalking me. Sending letters everyday. Following me all around New York.”

I took a deep, shaky breath, looking up at him with wide, terrified eyes. “The truth is, he wanted to date me. But I never accepted his proposal. I thought getting married and coming to Paris would make him stop. But across that river... at the café…” I swallowed hard, letting my voice drop to a whisper. “I saw him. He was standing there, holding one of his stupid folded letters, and watching me.”

Silence fell over the room. Heavy and suffocating.

Adrian didn't say a word for a long, agonizing minute. He just stood there, his dark eyes searching my face, picking apart every shift in my posture, my expression, my words. I held my breath, waiting for him to call my bluff, waiting for the axe to fall.

He didn't fully buy the story. I could see the faint skepticism lingering in the depth of his gaze. He knew I was leaving out details. But he could also tell that the fear radiating off me was very real.

Instead of pushing further, something cold and dangerous settled over his features. I watched the arrogant businessman disappear, replaced by the formidable head of the Kingsley empire.

He reached into his pocket, pulled out his phone, and dialed a number.

“Gerald,” Adrian said, his tone icy and authoritative as he spoke to whoever was on the phone. “Have the head of security run a full sweep of the riverbank near the open space of the café we just left. Review all surveillance footage within three blocks radius from the last hour. Look out for anything strange.”

He turned back to me. “Can you describe him?”

I drew in another shaky breath, my mind working fast. If I give them a full description of the stalking stranger, they may find him fast. And what if he spilled the truth about my real identity to them? That wouldn't be a smart thing to do at all.

“Victoria? I'm asking if you can describe this stalker.”

“He…he wore a long brown coat. He's older, about 45 years, he's slightly overweight and has a potbelly.”

Big lies. The person I saw at the riverbank was really fit and young.

“What's his name?”

Name? Damn. I have to come up with something fast. I can't lie to not know his name because he is supposedly Richard's business associate, who has been stalking me and sending letters.

“Victoria, I'm on a call with someone to get all these information, you can't keep taking long pauses—”

“I'm trying to think! It was very traumatising to see him again. His name is Peter. Peter Cole.”

I pray there's none of Richard's associates bearing that name, because if there was…

Adrian went back to the call. “You heard her. Someone's been stalking my wife. Find out who it is, and double the security around our hotel floor immediately.”

He hung up without waiting for a reply.

I stared at him, completely stunned.

Lied to or not, Adrian wasn't just throwing me to the wolves. His protective instincts had kicked in, and he was actively shielding me, putting the entire weight of the Kingsley security between me and whoever was out there.

A strange, unfamiliar warmth bloomed in my chest.

But before I could let myself soften, I stomped it down violently. I would rather have my head served on a silver platter before I ever admitted to him that his little hero act actually meant something to me.

“I've handled it,” Adrian said coldly, sliding his phone back into his pocket. “Nobody gets near this suite. You're safe. Freshen up and get some rest. If any other strange thing happens, let me know immediately.”

He didn't wait for a thank you. He turned on his heel, stepped out of my room, and closed the heavy door firmly behind him.

The silence returned, thick and absolute.

I let out a long, shaky exhale, sinking onto the edge of the bed. My shoulders slumped, the adrenaline finally washing out of my system and leaving me completely drained.

After a few minutes, I pushed myself up and walked over to the bathroom. I needed to get this ridiculous heavy makeup off my face and try to process everything that had just happened.

I set my leather makeup kit on the marble vanity counter, unzipping the main compartment to grab my face wipes.

I froze.

Sitting right on top of my small jar of night cream, nestled among my brushes, was a clean, folded rectangular piece of paper.

Ice instantly replaced the blood in my veins.

No. No, no, no.

They had been inside my room while we were out at the café.

With trembling fingers, I reached out and unfolded the cream-colored paper. The sharp, handwritten ink practically burned into my eyes:

‘Beautiful laugh out there, you almost had me fooled. Keep up with the show, Victoria Hale, the Fake Bride. Scratch that, Victoria Kingsley. I mustn't forget the fact that you're married now.’