Chapter 4 Sparks

Alara – POV

The apartment was small. Too small for dreams, but just big enough to keep breathing. Peeling paint. Flickering hallway light. A door that creaked on its hinges like an old man with secrets. This was home. For now. I slipped off my heels as soon as I stepped inside, exhaling the weight of the city behind me. The scent of burnt onions and tomato sauce greeted me before the sound of my little sister's off-key humming did. "Smells like an experiment," I teased, setting my keys down. "Rude," Maya replied from the tiny stove, brandishing a wooden spoon like a weapon. "I made jollof. And I didn't burn the pot-this time." I grinned. "Progress." She grinned back, her teenage face lit up by pride and a grease-slicked forehead. Sixteen going on twenty. She had too much responsibility in her eyes already, and I hated that I couldn't shield her from all of it. "You're late," she said, plating our dinner. "Everything okay at the coffee shop?" "Long shift. And I stopped by Clarke's place on the way home," I lied smoothly, sliding into our rickety dining chair. Maya joined me, nudging a chipped plate toward me. "I've been thinking." I raised an eyebrow. "Always dangerous." She ignored me. "Maybe I should get a job. Part-time. Nothing crazy. Just something to help." My stomach clenched. "Absolutely not." "Alara-" "No," I cut in gently but firmly. "You focus on school. I've got everything under control." Maya stared at me, lips pressed into a thin line, unconvinced. She was too smart for her age. Too observant. After a pause, she said, "Oh. A package came for you." My brows furrowed. "From who?" "I don't know. It didn't say. The box looked expensive, though." She got up and crossed the room, returning with a flat black box topped with a satin ribbon and a tiny envelope. My heart dropped. Carefully, I peeled it open. Inside was something I'd only ever seen through thick glass or on Clarke's vanity tray-Van Cleef & Arpels. Delicate gold. Ivory enamel. Tiny clover motifs that shimmered under our flickering kitchen light. Maya gasped. "Is that real?" I said nothing. "Alara, that's like... ten thousand dollars. Or more. What-who-?" I was already rising to my feet, grabbing my phone. "Ace Wolfe," I muttered, walking toward the hallway where Maya couldn't hear. I hit his number. He answered on the second ring. "Grey," he said, cool and indifferent like my name meant nothing. "I was expecting your call." "What is this?" I hissed, voice low. "A gift." "I didn't ask for this." "You didn't have to." "There are no strings?" I challenged. "None," he said flatly. "Take it. Don't take it. Throw it in the ocean. Doesn't matter to me." "You don't just send people jewelry worth a car without wanting something." "I want you to rethink my offer." I said nothing. "Don't confuse courtesy for seduction," he continued. "I don't play games, Alara. I get what I want, and I give generously." "Why me?" "You'll figure it out," he replied, voice colder now. "Or maybe you won't. Doesn't matter. Either way, the offer stands." I exhaled sharply and hung up without another word. When I returned to the kitchen, Maya was still holding the bracelet with the wide-eyed reverence of someone touching magic. "Who was that?" she asked. "No one," I lied. "I'm going to the hospital tomorrow. To see Mom." Maya nodded, her expression softening. "Tell her I'm doing okay. That I didn't burn the pot this time." "I will," I whispered, kissing her forehead. But as I lay in bed that night, the bracelet still sitting in its box like a quiet threat on my dresser... I knew things were changing. And the name Ace Wolfe was quickly becoming impossible to ignore.