Chapter 47 CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN

Chapter 47 CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN
Amelia’s POV

The night felt longer than it should. I hadn’t slept, though the clock said dawn was near. A grey light crept through the half-drawn curtains, painting the penthouse walls in cold streaks that looked like bruises. Every sound, the hum of the refrigerator, the distant traffic, felt amplified. I sat on the edge of the bed, still in the same clothes as last night, staring at the tiny flash drive lying in my palm.

It wasn’t larger than my thumb, but it weighed more than guilt.

Adrian had slipped it into my coat pocket before everything fell apart. He didn’t say what was on it, only that it could “end everything.” End Damian. End the watching. End the cage. But ending something didn’t always mean freedom; sometimes it meant collapse.

My hand trembled as I turned the drive over. There was a smear of dried rain on it, the faint scent of metal and damp air proof that last night really happened, that Adrian’s voice whispering run wasn’t just a nightmare.

I tucked it quickly under my pillow when the bedroom door clicked.

Damian entered, already dressed for the day, in a charcoal suit, polished shoes, face unreadable. He didn’t glance at me first. He never did. He adjusted his cuffs, checked his reflection in the mirror, then finally turned.

“You didn’t sleep.”

It wasn’t a question.

“I tried,” I said, voice hoarse.

His eyes scanned me, cold and sharp. “You look tired. Try harder next time. We have a press briefing at noon.”

I nodded, watching his reflection instead of his face. There was a hollowness in his movements this morning, less controlled and more erratic. His hand shook slightly when he fastened his watch, something I’d never seen before.

“Is something wrong?” I asked.

He froze for a beat. “No. Why would there be?”

The silence that followed was too thick. He smoothed his tie, turned toward the door, then paused. “By the way,” he said casually, “don’t go near the study today. I’ll be reviewing footage.”

The words pierced through me like cold air. Footage.

My throat tightened. “Footage of what?”

He smiled faintly without answering and left. The lock clicked.

Only after his footsteps disappeared did I let out the breath I’d been holding. I pulled the flash drive from beneath the pillow and stared at it again, pulse racing.

I waited until the elevator dinged in the hallway, his cue for leaving the building. Then I moved. Fast. My bare feet padded across the marble floor as I slipped into the study, heart hammering.

The curtains were drawn; the room smelled like leather, ink, and tension. His laptop sat on the desk, its screen dark, reflecting my own nervous face. For a second, I hesitated. One wrong click could mean exposure. Damian wasn’t the kind of man who overlooked mistakes twice.

Still, I plugged in the flash drive.

The screen flickered awake.

For a moment, nothing. Then, dozens of folders appeared. Labeled by date and locations. Bedroom Cam. Living Room Feed. Balcony Access. My blood went cold. Adrian had told the truth. Damian had been watching me. Every movement. Every tear.

I scrolled further. The folders changed names to Firm Records. Blackwood Holdings Confidential. Share Transfers. Hidden between them, one marked Nova Project.

My fingers hovered over the mouse. I clicked.

Documents unfolded like secrets gasping for air. Illegal transactions. Hidden investors. Damian’s digital fingerprints link him to offshore accounts, bribes, and blackmail... enough to destroy him, maybe enough to free me.

My chest heaved. My hand trembled over the trackpad. Then I heard it...

The elevator.

No.

I yanked the drive out, shoved it into my sleeve, and closed the laptop just as the study door opened.

Damian’s silhouette filled the doorway. He looked startled to see me there. “Amelia,” he said slowly. “What are you doing?”

“I...uh, I was looking for my pen.”

His gaze sharpened. “Your pen?”

“Yes. I thought I left it here.”

He crossed the room in three long strides, towering over me. “You never use pens,” he said, voice soft but edged like a knife. “You hate writing.”

My heart pounded so loud I thought it might echo through the glass walls. “I...must’ve remembered wrong.”

He studied my face, eyes searching. Then, to my horror, he leaned over the desk, pressing his thumb to the laptop’s power button. The screen blinked on—right back to the Nova Project folder.

Damian stilled.

The silence that followed could’ve split the air in half.

“Interesting,” he murmured.

“I didn’t...”

He turned slowly, eyes locking on mine. “You didn’t what?”

“I just saw the name, I was curious...”

“Curious,” he repeated, tasting the word like poison. He stepped closer, his voice dropping to a whisper. “Curiosity kills, Amelia. Haven’t you learned that by now?”

I took a step back, but he caught my wrist. His grip wasn’t rugged, not yet. But his eyes, those eyes, looked almost amused, like he’d been waiting for this.

“You think I don’t know when someone’s lying to me?”

“I’m not...”

“Don’t.” He released me suddenly, turning away. “You’re not good at it. Never were.”

I stood frozen, every nerve screaming. Then he said something that made my blood run cold.

“Adrian used to be good at it, though.”

I blinked. “What?”

He smiled faintly, still facing the window. “Lying. Pretending. He was always the better actor.”

I couldn’t breathe. He knew. Maybe not everything...but enough.

He looked at me over his shoulder. “You should get ready for the press briefing.”

The dismissal was soft, almost gentle, which was somehow worse than shouting. I turned to leave, but his voice followed, quiet and venomous:

“Don’t go snooping again, Amelia. You might not like what you find next time.”

I didn’t stop shaking until I was back in the bedroom. My mind raced. He’d seen the folder, and he knew something was off. The flash drive burned like a brand in my sleeve.

I couldn’t stay here. Not another night. Not with cameras on every wall.

I stuffed the drive into a compact powder case, slipped it into my bag, and left the penthouse just before noon.

Outside, the city was alive, too bright, too fast. The world spun on, unaware that mine was collapsing. I hailed a cab, told the driver to take me anywhere crowded. Somewhere Damian’s eyes couldn’t reach.

My reflection in the window looked foreign and haunted.

Halfway through the ride, my phone buzzed. I froze a message.

Unknown Number: You shouldn’t have opened it.

I dropped the phone. My pulse thudded in my ears.

“Miss? You okay back there?” the driver asked.

“Yes,” I lied. “Please just keep driving.”

But even as the city blurred by, I couldn’t shake the feeling that we were being followed. Every car in the mirror looked familiar, every turn too slow.

When I finally got out near the harbor cafés, I ran. Rain began to fall, cold and heavy, soaking my clothes. I ducked into an alley, breath ragged, and reached for my phone again. Another message appeared.

Unknown: You can’t hide from me.

My knees nearly buckled.

And then buzz. Another one.

Adrian: Where are you? Don’t move.

The contrast between the two messages felt like life and death itself.

I found a narrow café tucked between brick walls, half-hidden by ivy. The scent of coffee and sea salt clung to the air. I chose the corner seat facing the door and tried to look normal, as if my world wasn’t imploding.

Minutes passed. The bell above the door jingled. Adrian stepped in, rain still dripping from his hair. His gaze swept the room, sharp and searching until it found me.

He didn’t smile. He only nodded slightly and walked over.

“You shouldn’t have come here,” I whispered when he sat.

He leaned closer, voice low. “Neither should you. Damian’s men are everywhere today. I think he knows.”

“I think he knows too.” I pulled the flash drive from my bag and placed it between us. “He saw this.”

His face paled. “Did he open it?”

“I don’t think so.”

“Then we still have time.”

I looked at him, my voice trembling. “Adrian… what’s on it? What did you give me?”

He hesitated. “Everything. Enough to expose him. Enough to bury him.”

“And me with him,” I said quietly.

His eyes softened, regret flickering there. “I won’t let that happen.”

For a long moment, we said nothing. The rain hit the windows like a warning. Somewhere in the distance, thunder cracked.

“Why didn’t you run?” I asked.

“Because you didn’t,” he said

The words broke something inside me—something I’d kept buried beneath obedience and fear. My throat tightened. “Adrian, if he finds this—if he finds us—”

He reached across the table, brushing his fingers lightly over mine. “Then we make sure he never gets the chance.”

The café door opened behind him. A shadow crossed the floor.

Adrian’s grip tightened. “Don’t look,” he murmured.

But I already had.

Through the reflection in the glass, I saw him, Damian, standing in the doorway, soaked from the rain, his gaze fixed on me.

The flash drive slipped from my hand, clattering softly against the table.