CHAPTER 6

The scent of freshly ground coffee filled the air as I busied myself behind the counter, trying to focus on the morning rush. But my mind was restless, my hands moving on autopilot as the unease from last night lingered.

I felt jumpy, my stomach twisted in knots. Would Nicholas come back today? Would he keep showing up at the café, weaving himself into my routine until I couldn’t escape?

The chime of the doorbell snapped me from my thoughts. I looked up, my breath hitching slightly. But it wasn’t Nicholas.

A man stepped inside—tall, with sharp features and the same commanding presence Nicholas carried. He approached the counter with a casual but deliberate stride, and as he stopped in front of me, his piercing gaze settled on mine.

“Hi, Chloe. Nicholas wanted me to let you know that he can’t make it today—he has an appointment,” the man said, his voice deep but smooth. “I’m his brother, Isaac. Also, he asked me to pick up his coffee. He said you know what he likes.”

I blinked at him. The words barely registered.

First of all—

I didn’t need an explanation for why Nicholas wasn’t here.

And I didn’t care.

At least, that’s what I told myself.

I forced a polite smile. “Sure,” I said, turning away to prepare the order. My hands worked swiftly, but my thoughts were racing. Nicholas had sent someone to pick up his coffee? Why? Did he think I would be waiting for him?

I handed Isaac the cup, avoiding his gaze as I murmured a quick, “Here you go.”

He gave me a nod, his expression unreadable. Then, without another word, he walked out of the café.

I let out a slow breath. One problem down.

But the moment I turned to head into the back room, the words from the television caught my ear—three words that made my blood turn to ice.

“Nicholas. Romanov. Fortune.”

I spun back around, my heart hammering as I grabbed the remote and turned up the volume.

“The body of prominent Italian tycoon Alex Gray was discovered today in Russia under mysterious circumstances. Authorities report that a cryptic note was found at the scene, referencing a decade-old murder case that once led to the arrest of Russian Mafia leader Nicholas Romanov Fortune and three of his men. Investigators suspect the note may be linked to the elusive witness from the infamous case, though its meaning remains unclear. While speculation points to Mafia involvement, the execution of the crime was so precise—so methodically clean—that no traceable evidence has been left behind. With no leads, the case has now been officially labeled as cold.”

I didn’t realize I had stopped breathing until my lungs burned, demanding air. My fingers trembled, the remote slipping from my grasp and clattering onto the floor with a sound that felt deafening in the silence of the café. My heartbeat pounded in my ears, drowning out everything else.

They killed the wrong man.

Because he wasn’t the witness.

I was.

A suffocating wave of nausea rolled over me, my stomach twisting violently as the weight of that truth came crashing down. The room tilted, the walls closing in as I staggered back, blindly reaching for the counter to steady myself. My grip faltered, slick with sweat, and I felt the world blur at the edges.

Nicholas.

Not just a powerful businessman. Not just an heir to a fortune.

He was in the mafia.

A leader. A killer.

A man who could erase someone from existence with a single order, leaving behind nothing but whispered rumors and a cold case that would never be solved.

And I had walked right into his path.

I had smiled at him. Let him drive me home. Let him get close.

A sharp, shuddering breath tore from my throat as the full reality sank in. He had been looking at me like I was a puzzle he needed to solve, his eyes sharp, calculating. He already suspected something. And when Nicholas Romanov suspected, he didn’t stop until he had the truth.

Until he had blood.

A cold sweat drenched my skin, making the fabric of my shirt cling uncomfortably to my body. My chest tightened, panic clawing up my throat, squeezing until I felt like I might choke on it.

I thought I had buried my past. That I had escaped.

But it was never truly gone.

And now, standing here in the middle of my mother’s café, surrounded by the comforting scent of coffee and the warmth of a life I had carefully built, I realized just how fragile it all was.

Nicholas Romanov was the kind of man who didn’t let go of loose ends.

And if he ever found out who I really was—

I was as good as dead.

The café felt too small, the walls too close, the air too thick. My mother’s voice was a distant hum, the comforting routine of the morning rush reduced to nothing but background noise. I could hear the steaming of milk, the clatter of cups, the familiar buzz of customers placing their orders. It was all so… normal.

But my world was anything but normal.

Not anymore.

I had spent years carefully constructing this life, brick by brick, lie by lie. I had blended in, perfected the art of being invisible. Chloe Monroe, the quiet girl who ran a coffee shop with her mother. Chloe Monroe, the woman who had no past worth digging into.

And yet, despite everything, I had let him in.

Nicholas.

I could still feel the weight of his gaze from the night before, the quiet intensity of it. He had been studying me, picking me apart like I was a puzzle he was desperate to solve. I had seen the flicker of suspicion in his eyes, the way his jaw tensed every time I hesitated before answering a question.

He knew something was off.

And that meant I was running out of time.

My stomach twisted as I reached for the remote on the floor, my hands still shaking. I turned the TV off, as if that could somehow erase what I had just heard. As if it could take away the gnawing fear clawing at my chest.

But the words had already been spoken.

Alex Gray’s body had been found in Russia.

And there had been a note.

A cryptic message left behind, leading the authorities to believe his death was connected to the witness from ten years ago.

To me.

A tremor ran through me as I forced myself to breathe, to push down the panic threatening to swallow me whole. This wasn’t supposed to happen. I had spent a decade ensuring there was no trace of me left.

So why now?

Why was someone bringing that case back to life?

And, more importantly—did Nicholas know?

I swallowed hard, feeling the weight of my mother’s gaze on me. I hadn’t noticed her watching, her hands paused mid-wipe on the counter.

“Chloe?” Her voice was soft, but lined with concern. “Are you okay?”

I forced a smile. It felt wrong. Tight.

“Yeah,” I lied. “Just tired.”

She didn’t look convinced, but she let it go, nodding toward the espresso machine. “Go take a break. I’ll handle things here.”

I hesitated. Normally, I would have insisted on staying, but right now? I needed to be alone.

“Thanks, Mom,” I murmured before slipping into the back room.

The second the door shut behind me, I pressed my back against it, my head falling back as I exhaled shakily. My pulse still raced, my body still tense with fear.

I had to think.

I had to be smart.

Nicholas might not know the truth yet, but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t find out.

And if he did…

I wasn’t sure what scared me more—the thought of him wanting me dead.

Chloe forced thoughts of Nicholas aside, focusing instead on getting through the day.

The rest of her shift passed in a blur—taking orders, brewing coffee, wiping down tables. She moved on autopilot, her hands steady even as her mind spiraled.

Her mother noticed her distraction, throwing her a few questioning glances, but Chloe kept her responses short. She couldn’t afford to slip—not now.

Nicholas hadn’t come today. That should have been a relief. Instead, a strange unease settled in her chest. His absence felt deliberate. Calculated.

By the time she locked up for the night, exhaustion pressed down on her, but sleep felt like an impossible luxury.

She pulled her coat tighter around her as she stepped out into the chilly night air, heading for the nearest bus stop. The streets were quieter now, the usual rush of the city replaced by flickering streetlights and the occasional honk of a distant car. She hated taking the bus this late, but it was the fastest way home.

Chloe tapped her foot impatiently as she waited, arms wrapped around herself. She kept glancing over her shoulder, a paranoia creeping up on her that she couldn’t shake. It felt like someone was watching, lurking just beyond the shadows.

When the bus finally arrived, she hurried inside and found an empty seat near the back, pressing herself against the window. The ride was uneventful, just the usual handful of exhausted workers heading home. Still, she couldn’t relax. Her fingers drummed against her thigh, her mind still replaying the news report.

They had killed the wrong man.

And if they ever found out the truth?

She swallowed hard and shoved the thought away.

By the time she reached her stop, her body ached with fatigue. She trudged the last few blocks to her apartment, unlocking the door and stepping inside with a sigh. The silence was comforting. Safe.

She tossed her bag onto the couch and made her way to the kitchen, grabbing a bowl of leftover soup from the fridge. She wasn’t particularly hungry, but forcing herself to eat was better than sitting alone with her thoughts.

After washing up, she slipped into her pajamas and followed her nightly routine—brushing her teeth, double-checking that the doors were locked, peeking through the curtains just to be sure.

Finally, she crawled into bed, pulling the covers up to her chin. She stared at the ceiling, her heart still racing despite the stillness around her.

Nicholas Romanov was a monster. A man whose hands were stained with blood.

And she had just stepped into his world.