Chapter 4 Storm Beneath The Surface

The rose sat on the edge of Elena's vanity like a scarlet scream.

Every time she passed it, her eyes flicked toward the blood-red petals, sharp and open like a wound. The note was folded beneath it, now read a dozen times but still seared into her memory:

> "He can't protect you forever."

No signature. No mark. Just those seven words, calm as a whisper, loud as a gunshot.

Elena hadn't told Alexander yet.

Not because she didn't want to. But because for the first time since their wedding, she felt a flicker of control - and she didn't want to lose it.

The woman she used to be - poor, powerless, desperate - would've run to him in a panic. But the Elena she was becoming... wanted to think first. To protect herself.

To be strong.

But it haunted her. Every creak of the floor. Every unfamiliar footstep in the hall. Every glance from a maid she didn't recognize.

Mrs. Keene noticed her restlessness by the second morning.

"You've barely touched your breakfast, dear," the housekeeper said, pouring more tea.

Elena stirred it without drinking. "Have there been... any visitors recently? Or deliveries?"

Mrs. Keene frowned. "Not that I've seen. Why?"

"Just wondering."

But the older woman's eyes narrowed. She sensed more - she always did.

"I may be old, Miss Elena, but I can still tell when a storm's about to hit. Whatever's troubling you, be careful not to carry it alone."

Elena managed a smile. "Thank you."

But she already felt the storm creeping under her skin.

---

That night, she sat in the massive tub of the master bathroom, warm water lapping at her collarbone. The lights were dim, scented candles flickering on the marble edge.

She closed her eyes. Tried to breathe. Tried to forget.

But the whisper in her mind wouldn't leave:

> "He can't protect you forever."

And then - a sound.

Soft.

A footstep?

Her eyes flew open. Water sloshed slightly as she sat upright, straining her ears.

Another sound. The faint creak of the floor.

She reached for the towel just as the door opened.

"Relax," came Alexander's voice. "It's just me."

She exhaled in a rush - but her hands were shaking.

Alexander frowned as he stepped inside, loosening his tie. "You're pale."

"I'm fine," she said quickly, sinking deeper into the water. "Just startled."

His gaze moved over her, not in lust, but in quiet scrutiny. Like he was seeing through her skin.

"Elena," he said, voice low. "Something's wrong."

She hesitated.

Then she reached to the side, grabbed the folded note from her robe pocket, and handed it to him.

Alexander took it without a word.

As he read, his face darkened. Eyes narrowed. Lips pressed into a thin line.

"When did you get this?" he asked.

"Two days ago."

"You should've told me."

"I wanted to think," she said. "I didn't want to panic."

He paced back, shoulders rigid.

"Whoever sent this," he growled, "just declared war."

---

Over the next few days, the mansion's quiet rhythm was shattered.

Guards doubled. Security systems re-checked. New cameras installed. Alexander's chief of security, a thick-jawed man named Cassian, began running background checks on every employee.

But the fear didn't fade. It only sharpened.

One night, Elena caught Alexander in the hallway, pressing a phone to his ear and whispering urgently.

"We have a leak," he said. "Find it. I don't care what it costs."

He noticed her. Ended the call.

"You're not sleeping," she said.

"Neither are you."

They stood there, shadows in silk and steel.

"I thought marrying you was the worst thing that ever happened to me," she said softly. "Now I'm not sure if it's the only thing keeping me alive."

He didn't flinch. "That makes two of us."

Then he did something that caught her off guard.

He touched her cheek.

Just once. Light. Almost unsure.

And then he walked away.

---

The betrayal came on a Thursday.

Cassian found it.

A staff member - one of the gardeners - had been feeding information to someone outside. Details about Elena's schedule. When she walked in the gardens. When she was alone.

Alexander confronted the man personally.

Elena wasn't allowed in the room, but she heard the shouting. The crash. The thud of something heavy hitting a wall.

The gardener was gone by morning. The police never came. No one spoke of it again.

But a part of her changed that day.

Her world - once simple, poor, but hers - was now a place of secrets and shadows.

She stared at herself in the mirror that night. Not the girl who had scrubbed dishes in Red Willow. Not the child who read fairy tales to her brother.

This woman had steel in her spine.

And a storm behind her eyes.

---

Weeks passed.

The tension between her and Alexander thinned... but never broke.

They shared more meals. Spoke more. Argued sometimes.

He taught her chess. She taught him how to make coffee the "poor girl way" - with condensed milk and instant granules.

He laughed.

She liked the sound.

But the threats didn't stop.

More notes arrived. More near-encounters.

Once, someone tampered with the brakes on her car.

Another time, a maid found a camera hidden in her room.

Each time, Alexander grew darker. More protective. More violent in his silence.

"You can't cage me," she snapped after the fourth incident.

"I'm trying to keep you alive," he growled.

"Then let me fight, too!"

His eyes flashed. "No."

"Why not?"

"Because I've already lost too much."

And for the first time, he broke.

He told her about his sister's death. How she'd been manipulated by a business rival - lured into a trap, used as leverage. And how he hadn't protected her in time.

"She died because of me," he whispered. "Because I underestimated what monsters look like in suits."

Elena reached for him.

Held him.

Let him shatter.

---

That night, for the first time, he didn't go to his room.

He stayed in hers.

They didn't make love. They didn't speak much.

He lay beside her, eyes open, one arm around her waist.

And in the dark, she whispered, "Maybe we're both broken."

He kissed her forehead. "Maybe that's the only way we fit."

---

But peace is never still.

One morning, Elena stepped out into the garden for fresh air.

There, tucked into a rose bush, was another note.

> "You chose the wolf. Now you'll bleed like one."

Her hands trembled.

Behind her, a camera clicked.

She turned - but no one was there.

Only the wind.

---

Elena stood frozen in the garden, the note crumpled in her hand.

The wind rustled the trees softly, but her body was tense - her eyes scanned the hedges, the path behind her, the rooftops. A trickle of fear slid down her spine. That camera click hadn't been her imagination.

She turned and sprinted back to the mansion, skirts brushing against her legs, breath ragged. She didn't care that she was being watched. She didn't care that Alexander had warned her not to wander alone.

She barged into his office without knocking.

Alexander looked up from his desk, startled. "Elena-?"

"They were here," she said, voice shaking. "In the garden. Another note. And I heard a camera."

He stood so fast his chair nearly toppled.

"Cassian!" he barked into his comm unit. "Lock the grounds. Shut every gate. Scan for intruders. Now."

Then he turned back to her.

"You're going to stay in the house from now on," he said, voice firm but barely controlled.

"No," she said, stepping back. "You can't just-"

"Don't argue with me on this. They've escalated."

"But I'm not some delicate thing you can tuck behind glass-"

"You're not a prisoner," he said harshly, "but you are my wife. And I won't bury another woman I care about because I didn't act fast enough."

The words hit her like a slap.

Care about?

He saw her expression shift and looked away, jaw clenching.

"I didn't mean to-"

"You care?" she asked, voice trembling.

He didn't answer.

But the silence was answer enough.

---

That night, Elena stood at the window, arms wrapped around herself, watching the shadows stretch across the grounds like long, black claws. She had been strong for weeks. She had adapted. Grown sharper. But tonight, something in her cracked.

Maybe it was the camera. The invasion.

Maybe it was the confession Alexander didn't quite say.

Maybe it was the fact that caring meant danger - not just for her, but for both of them.

She didn't hear him enter the room.

"Elena," he said gently, "come lie down."

She turned to him. "Do you think they'll kill me?"

The question stunned him.

"I won't let that happen," he said, stepping closer.

"That's not what I asked."

He hesitated.

"I don't know," he admitted. "But I do know this - they've never faced someone like you before. Or someone like us."

---

In the days that followed, everything changed.

Elena was no longer just hiding.

She began to train.

Cassian started teaching her basics - self-defense, evasion, situational awareness.

Alexander protested at first, but eventually relented, watching from a distance as Elena kicked, blocked, and hit targets with an intensity even Cassian admired.

"She's tougher than she looks," the bodyguard muttered one afternoon.

Alexander didn't reply.

He already knew.

---

But the real turning point came a week later.

Cassian discovered the source of the camera click.

A drone.

Hidden in the old west tower - a disused part of the estate that hadn't been touched in years.

The drone had been placed there by someone with intimate knowledge of the mansion's layout. Someone with access.

Someone inside.

And when Alexander reviewed the access logs, the pattern was clear.

It wasn't just a rogue gardener this time.

It was someone higher.

Someone close.

---

That night, Alexander stood on the balcony with Elena, the city lights twinkling in the distance.

"There's a traitor in the house," he said.

Her breath caught.

"Do you know who?"

He hesitated.

Then: "I think it's someone from my father's side of the company. One of the board members. They want my shares. My empire. My name. And they're using you to break me."

She turned to him. "Then let them see what happens when we fight back."

He looked at her, surprised by the fire in her voice.

And maybe for the first time, he saw not just the poor girl he married...

But a partner.

---

Later that night, Alexander checked on Elena again - only to find her already asleep, curled under the soft blankets. He stood there quietly, staring at her.

His heart - so long kept behind stone and steel - ached in a way he didn't understand.

He stepped closer, brushed a strand of hair from her face.

And whispered, "I will burn this world before I let it take you."

What he didn't know - what neither of them knew - was that the betrayal had already taken root.

And it was closer than either of them dared imagine.

-