Chapter 4 WHAT SILENCE WON'T SAY

I didn't sleep that night. I lay in the too-perfect apartment, staring at the ceiling like it held answers I didn't want to find.

The sheets smelled like detergent, not home. Nothing here smelled like home.

Lily would be getting her chemo again in the morning, without me. I used to sit beside her bed, and rub her hands when they got cold. She'd always try to smile through it, even when her lips cracked. Now she'd go through it alone because I sold my soul to a man with nothing behind his eyes but storms and strategy.

A knock came just after midnight. I froze, heart skipping. Too many bad memories wear the sound of knocking.

I opened it slowly. Mark stood there again, shoulders stiff, like he didn't enjoy this part.

"Damian wants you downstairs. Now."

"Is everything okay?"

He didn't blink. "He didn't say."

That meant no.

I threw on the nearest coat and followed him to the car waiting outside. Cold air bit through the fabric like punishment. I didn't ask questions. I didn't have room for questions anymore.

The drive was silent except for the city breathing its usual chaos. Neon signs blurred against the windows. I kept thinking about Lily's last text: Miss you. Stay safe. I hadn't responded. My fingers hovered over the screen too many times, then just... gave up.

We pulled up to the Kingsley building. Still lit like daylight even though it was close to 1 a.m.

Inside, everything was glass and tension. Naomi was there, arms crossed, pacing like a fuse ready to catch. She looked up when I walked in, then looked right through me.

"In here," she said, voice tight.

Damian's office door was already open. He stood by the window, jacket off, sleeves rolled, jaw locked so tight it looked painful.

I stepped inside and waited, unsure if I was supposed to sit or stand. No one told me anymore.

"What happened?" I asked. My voice cracked, thin like glass.

Damian turned, eyes darker than usual. "You told someone."

I blinked. "Told what?"

He walked closer, slow, controlled. "About the contract. About us."

My stomach dropped. "I didn't."

He didn't shout. That was worse. "Then how did Ethan know where to find Naomi this evening? How did he know what hospital Lily's in?"

Ice spread under my skin.

"No," I said quietly. "No, I didn't- I haven't told anyone anything. I wouldn't."

Damian's eyes didn't soften. "You left the apartment yesterday. Alone."

"I went to see Lily. I-I needed to." My throat tightened. "She asked for me."

Naomi stepped in like she'd been waiting for the opening. "And you used the hospital's front entrance. Cameras everywhere. Someone followed you, Ava."

I shook my head, heart hammering now. "I didn't know he'd be there. I didn't know he-God, I didn't think he still-"

"He does," Damian cut in. "And he's getting bolder."

Silence stretched until it snapped. My knees felt weak. The rug beneath my shoes blurred.

Naomi's tone turned sharp. "From now on, you don't leave without security. Not for coffee. Not for air. You don't open your front door. You don't answer unknown numbers. You don't exist outside this agreement unless we say so."

I flinched. "I'm not your prisoner."

"No," she said, voice cold. "You're something worse. You're a liability."

The word sliced deeper than I expected. I opened my mouth to defend myself, but Damian raised a hand. He looked tired-bone-deep tired.

"I don't think she understands yet," he said, mostly to Naomi. "She still believes this ends when the ink dries."

My jaw clenched. "Then tell me what I am to you, Damian. Be honest."

He stepped closer. For a second, I thought he might say something real. Something human. But all he said was, "You're someone I protect. And someone who protects me in return. That's the deal."

It wasn't an answer. It was another wall.

I left the office in silence, escorted back by Mark like I was some fragile asset. The elevator ride down felt longer than the night sky.

⸻

The next morning, I sat curled up on the cold leather couch, staring at the same text from Lily I hadn't answered. I typed and deleted a reply twelve times. Nothing sounded right. Or safe.

The door opened without warning.

"Jesus, knock maybe?" I snapped before I saw who it was.

Naomi.

She stood in the doorway with a small envelope in her hand. She didn't smile.

"What now?" I muttered.

She tossed the envelope onto the table in front of me. "Your past came calling. This time, I answered."

I picked it up. Inside were photos. Ethan. Following me. At the hospital. Near the car. Watching.

My breath caught. One photo was of Lily. Through a hospital window.

I stood up too fast, and the room tilted. "He was that close?"

Naomi didn't answer.

My legs gave a little. I sat again, shaking.

"He won't touch her," she said, softer now. "But you need to understand, we're not doing this to control you. We're trying to keep you breathing."

I stared at her, trying to believe it.

"You think I'm cold," Naomi added. "Maybe I am. But I've seen what men like Ethan do. I've cleaned it up."

Then, just as she turned to leave, she paused. "Damian's not what you think. But he's not a saint either. He's done things to survive."

I wanted to ask more, but the door shut behind her.

⸻

By nightfall, I'd packed the photos away. Buried them under my clothes, like hiding them would change the truth.

Damian didn't message me. I didn't expect him to.

Around midnight, sleep still wouldn't come. I sat at the window, watching headlights streak past like ghosts on the move.

Then came a noise.

Not a knock. A creak.

From the kitchen.

I froze.

The apartment was supposed to be secure.

I stood up slowly, my heart already pounding. Every step toward that room felt like walking into a memory I didn't want to relive.

I reached the doorframe and saw it.

A shadow.

Someone is standing inside.

He turned slowly.

And smiled.

Ethan.

Alive. Here. In the apartment.

And I was alone.