Chapter 4 Shadows of the past

The message wouldn't leave her mind.

Lydia stared at the screen long after the words had burned themselves into her memory. You don't know who you're dealing with. There was no name. No reply option. Just that single, chilling sentence.

She looked out her window. The rain had returned, tapping softly against the glass like a warning. She considered calling Jaden-but what would she even say?

Hey, someone just threatened me because of you. Should I be concerned?

Instead, she turned off her phone and tried to sleep. She didn't.

---

The next day, Lydia was edgy. Everything at the gallery irritated her-the lighting, the music, her coworker Jonah's endless chewing of mint gum. She kept checking her phone, even though it hadn't buzzed since last night.

Around noon, she gave in and texted Jaden.

> Did you give my number to anyone?

His reply came in seconds.

> No. Why?

She hesitated.

> I got a weird message last night. Blocked number. About you.

There was a pause.

Then:

> Can I see you tonight? Somewhere quiet?

She didn't say no.

---

Jaden picked her up himself, not in the black town car, but in a silver Jaguar with leather seats and no driver. He wore a dark coat over a navy turtleneck, and he looked like he hadn't slept either.

They drove in silence for a while, until they reached a gated lot in SoHo. Inside was a private rooftop garden-complete with glass walls, string lights, and not another soul in sight.

"This place is mine," Jaden said quietly. "One of the few where no one watches me."

Lydia stepped carefully across the stone path. "What did that message mean?"

Jaden exhaled. "It means my past is catching up."

She turned to him. "Tell me everything."

He didn't speak right away. Then, finally-

"My father built Redstone from nothing. He died suddenly when I was nineteen. Heart attack-or so I thought. Later I found out he'd made some dangerous enemies."

"Like who?"

"Russian oligarchs. A Hong Kong triad. A U.S. senator with very dark secrets. You name it."

Her eyes widened. "So... you inherited a financial empire and a list of powerful people who want you gone."

"Pretty much."

"Why haven't you told anyone?"

"Because the ones I trust end up dead. Or disappear."

Lydia's heart pounded. "And you think they're watching you now?"

"They've always been watching. But I've kept them away... until I met you."

She froze. "So I'm a weakness."

"No." His voice cracked slightly. "You're the first real thing I've felt in years. But yes. That also makes you a target."

She looked away, her breath catching.

"You should've stayed a stranger on a train," she whispered.

"I tried," he said, stepping closer. "But I couldn't stop thinking about you."

She didn't stop him this time when he pulled her into his arms. It wasn't lust that passed between them-it was fear, desperation, the aching need to feel safe in someone else's arms.

---

Later, he drove her home again. When she stepped out of the car, he caught her wrist gently.

"I'll fix this," he said. "I promise."

She nodded. But as she walked up the steps to her building, she noticed something odd-her front door was slightly open.

Her chest went cold.

She pushed the door with her fingertips. Her apartment was dark. Quiet. But something was wrong.

The coffee mug she left on the counter was shattered.

And on her table, a white envelope with no return address.

Inside it, a single photograph.

Of her and Jaden.

From the rooftop.

Taken through a telephoto lens.