CHAPTER 9

I stared at the boxes scattered across my apartment. For the first time since everything had fallen apart, I didn't know what I was supposed to feel. I was leaving. Not because I wanted to. Because Adrian had insisted.

After what happened in the boardroom, he'd made one thing very clear. I wasn't going back to my apartment alone. Not while the photograph was still circulating. Not while the press was hunting for a story.

"I still think this is insane."

Maya shoved another sweater into a suitcase with more force than necessary. She was angry for me. I could see it in the way she handled my things, like she was punishing them for existing.

I looked at her. "So do I."

"Then why are you doing it?"

"Because apparently saying no to Adrian Vance is becoming my least successful hobby."

She laughed. It was a real laugh, sharp and surprised. The kind of laugh that broke through the tension hanging over us.

I smiled despite myself. Then the smile disappeared as quickly as it came.

"What if people see me leaving with him?"

Maya zipped the suitcase with a sharp sound. "People already think you're sleeping with the CEO. At this point, let them think you're moving into the White House."

I groaned. "Maya."

"What? I'm trying to make you laugh."

"You're terrible at it."

"Yet you smiled."

I shook my head. She was the only person who could make me feel normal right now. In the middle of all this chaos, all this uncertainty, Maya was here. Packing my life into boxes. Making jokes that didn't quite land. Being exactly what I needed without making it obvious.

My eyes moved around the apartment. It was small. Nothing impressive. But it was mine. Every piece of furniture had been chosen because I could afford it. Every picture on the wall held a memory I'd made on my own terms. Every scratch on the floor reminded me that I'd built a life here. A real life. A life that was entirely separate from Adrian Vance and corporate boardrooms and fabricated photographs.

And now I was packing that life into boxes.

Maya noticed my expression shift. She set down the sweater she'd been holding. "You don't have to stay there forever."

"I know."

"You're just going there until things calm down. Until the press moves on to the next scandal. Until people stop caring about a fake photograph."

I nodded. At least that was what I kept telling myself. At least that was the story we were both pretending to believe.

Adrian's penthouse didn't feel like a home. It felt like another world. A world where security guards watched the entrances, where elevators required private access codes, where nobody could walk through the front door without being noticed and recorded. Safe. But strange. Like stepping into someone else's life instead of moving into my own.

Maya lifted another box. "Okay. Last one."

I bent down to pick up a smaller bag, my personal things. Photos. Journals. The physical evidence of a life I was leaving behind.

Then Maya suddenly stopped. She went completely still.

"Wait."

I looked up. "What?"

She was staring through the window. Her entire body had tensed.

"What is it?"

"I thought I saw someone."

My stomach tightened immediately. "Where?"

"Across the street."

She moved closer to the glass, and I followed her. At first, I saw nothing unusual. Cars. People walking past. A delivery truck parked near the corner. Everything looked normal.

"There's nobody there," I said, but even as I said it, I felt uncertain.

"He was there."

"Who?"

"I don't know."

Maya narrowed her eyes, scanning the street below. Then she pointed. "Wait. There."

I looked down toward the entrance of my building. A man stood across the street. Dark jacket. Dark cap. He wasn't looking at traffic. He wasn't looking at his phone. He wasn't doing any of the things people normally do when they're standing on a street corner.

He was looking directly at my building.

My pulse quickened. "What is he doing?"

Maya leaned closer to the glass. "He has a camera."

My heart dropped. "A camera?"

She nodded. The man lifted it. The lens caught the afternoon light.

Click.

A picture.

Then another.

Click.

I stepped back from the window instinctively, like he could see me if I stayed visible long enough.

"Why is he photographing my building?"

"I don't know."

I reached for my phone. My hands were shaking slightly. "I'm calling Adrian."

Maya caught my wrist. Her grip was firm. "Wait."

I looked at her. "Why?"

"Because if he's watching you, don't let him know you noticed. Don't confirm that you've seen him. Just observe."

I stared at the man again. He lowered the camera. For one second—just one—I thought he looked directly at my window. Like he knew we were up here. Like he could feel us watching him.

My skin prickled. "Maya…"

"I see him."

She moved toward the window again, staying to the side where she wouldn't be as visible. Then she frowned. "He's gone."

I blinked. "What?"

"He's gone."

"That fast?"

Maya leaned forward slightly, scanning the street below. "He was right there a second ago."

I rushed to the window. The sidewalk was visible from where we stood. Empty. No man. No camera. Nothing.

I scanned the parked cars. Nothing. I looked for anyone hurrying around the corner. Nothing.

"Maybe he went around the corner," I said.

"Maybe."

But Maya didn't sound convinced. Neither was I.

I looked at the clock on my wall. We were supposed to leave in less than ten minutes. Adrian's driver would be here soon. And suddenly, my apartment didn't feel safe anymore. It felt exposed. Like someone had been looking at it. Looking at me.

Maya turned away from the window. "Let's finish packing. We need to get you out of here."

I nodded. But I couldn't stop thinking about that man. Who was he? Why had he been taking pictures of my building? Was he press? Was he someone working for Robert? Was he connected to whoever had created that photograph in the first place?

I tried to focus on packing, but my mind kept circling back to the moment he'd lowered his camera. The moment I thought he'd looked directly at my window.

Adrian's driver arrived exactly when he said he would. The car pulled up to the curb with quiet efficiency. Professional. Anonymous. The kind of car that didn't draw attention.

The moment we stepped outside, I looked across the street.

Nothing. The same cars. The same buildings. The same ordinary afternoon. No stranger. No camera. No sign that anyone had been watching me.

Maybe I'd imagined how threatening it felt. Maybe it was just a photographer. Maybe it was nothing.

But as I climbed into the car, I couldn't shake the feeling that someone was watching us leave. That we were being observed. That this wasn't over.

Maya climbed in beside me. "You okay?"

I looked back through the window at my apartment building getting smaller. "Yeah."

It was a lie. But I wasn't ready to admit that. Not yet.

The car pulled away from the curb and merged into traffic. I watched my apartment disappear behind us. The last tangible piece of the life I'd built. The last anchor to who I was before all of this.

I didn't know then that leaving it would be the last normal thing I did for a long time. I didn't know that the man Maya had seen wasn't the first person watching me. He was simply the first person careless enough to let us see him. The first in a series of observations that would prove I wasn't just being paranoid.

Someone was hunting me. And they were patient. And they were close.