He just left

He just left

~ KAIA'S POV ~

He just left.

Just like that.

No second glance. Just silence, and then he's gone.

My chest tightens. The space he occupied feels colder, heavier, as though he’s left a storm behind in the air.

Was something wrong?

Did I say anything wrong?

I replay every word, every smile, every breath I offered. I comb through them frantically, like flipping through scattered pages of a book, searching for the mistake, the slip.

Shit.

I hope I didn’t.

One wrong note, one careless phrase, and men like him remember. They hold it, sharpen it, and one day you feel it against your throat.

I can’t afford that now. Not when my plan is only just gaining a foothold.

Not when every move I make is another step across a minefield.

Breathe, Kaia. Restrain. Rethink. Reshape.

It’s time to re-strategize.

My mind hammers the words like a drumbeat, steadying me, forcing me to stand tall even when my stomach twists.

“Ma’am… can I ask?”

The chauffeur’s voice pulls me out of the spiral. I turn, blinking, forcing composure back onto my face. His eyes flick up at me in the rearview mirror, hesitant yet concerned. “What happened to you?”

For a second, I freeze. The truth burns the tip of my tongue, gunshots, chaos, blood staining the tracks, but I bite it back. No. Not him. Not anyone. Not now.

When Theresa brought me the phone I’d ordered, I logged into my cloud, gathered my contacts, my scattered life piecing itself back together on a glowing screen. That’s how I called him, how I told him to come pick me up.

And now here he is, worried, asking.

I force a smile, though my lips feel stiff. “No, no. It’s okay.” My voice is steady, but inside it trembles. “I was caught up in a moment… trying to save a girl’s life. I got hit in the process.”

There. Clean. Simple. Enough truth to taste real, enough lies to hide the rot underneath.

His eyes widen, shock breaking across his face. “Oh, that’s really bad!” He exclaims, voice loud, unfiltered.

I flinch. My nerves are still raw, every sound sharper, every word heavier.

“I worried sick when you didn’t call me to pick you up,” he continues, shaking his head. “I tried calling but your phone… it was switched off.”

That phone. Dead. Broken. A silent witness to everything I want buried.

I breathe out slowly, pressing my palm against my dress to ground myself. “Thank you. I’m fine now.”

I keep the words simple, clipped. If I let them run, the truth might slip through.

He glances back again. His eyes hold more than curiosity, they hold genuine concern.

It lingers, heavy and unspoken, filling the small space between us.

If I wasn’t fine, if I wasn’t nice and calm to him, he wouldn’t look at me this way. Not with this kind of raw, honest worry.

And for a fleeting second, it hits me harder than I expect. Because his concern isn’t calculated. Isn’t power. Isn’t control. It’s just… human.



We arrive at the hotel. The familiar sight steadies me, even as my thoughts churn.

“Take care,” my chauffeur says as I open the door.

The simple words feel strange after the storm of Vittorio’s presence, too light, too ordinary.

“Thanks,” I reply softly, managing a small smile. “You too. You can go home, I won’t be going out today.”

He nods, relief slipping across his features. “Okay, ma’am.”

I step out, the car door shutting with a muffled thud.

The sound feels final, like closing a chapter, even if I know the story is far from done.

Straightening my shoulders, I walk toward the hotel entrance. Each step is measured, calm and deliberate. I cling to that rhythm.

“Eirlys!”

I hear my name, my fake name….yelled across from behind me.

Sharp. Commanding and echoing behind me like a whipcrack.

I stop dead in my tracks, my pulse leaping, thundering in my ears.

That voice….. it's Vittorio.

Vittorio.

With every syllable heavy, dragging the air with it, bending it to his will.

My throat tightens. My fingers curl against my side.

He’s here. Again. Already.

Why?

What's wrong?

He followed me. Of course he did.

There's no way he'd know where I stay if he didn't follow me.

The sound of his voice coils around me, heavy and inescapable. It demands I turn, demands I face him.

Part of me wants to just ignore and get into the reception, but the other part…the part that knows better, remains rooted. Because ignoring his call might light up something I can't afford now.

Not when Kai’s life is involved.

The air feels sharper, the ground unsteady beneath my feet. My plan, my careful strategy, suddenly feels like glass under fire.

I draw in a slow breath, steadying the tremor building in my chest.

And then, slowly, I turn.