Chapter 36

Sylvia’s POV

The first thing I noticed was the quiet.

Not the kind of quiet that comforts — but the heavy, stretched kind that sits on your chest until you can’t breathe right.

The blinds were half-drawn, slanting pale morning light across the floorboards. The safehouse still smelled of rain and the faint hint of smoke from Derek’s last cigarette. My fingers reached out instinctively, expecting to brush against his skin. The sheets were cold.

“Derek?” I whispered, sitting up, my throat dry.

No answer.

The air felt strange without him in it — like the world had forgotten its rhythm. I swung my legs out of bed and slipped into his oversized shirt, the one that always carried his scent. Every creak of the floor made me flinch. The walls of this place held too many ghosts — our silence, our secrets, our sins.

I padded through the small hallway, my eyes darting toward the faint hum of voices — not human ones, but the static of a TV.

And then he walked in.

Derek’s silhouette filled the doorway, tall, composed, wearing that same black shirt I’d begged him to burn because it reminded me too much of the man he was before all this. His eyes — calm, steady, too steady — made something cold and warm twist inside me all at once.

“You’re awake my world,” he said, setting a cup of coffee on the counter. “You should’ve stayed in bed.”

I looked at him quietly. The last few days had stripped us raw — the betrayal, the chaos, Abigail’s venomous games. But Derek looked… lighter. Not happy, no — Derek didn’t do happy — but something in his face had shifted. Like the storm had finally chosen a direction.

“What did you do?” I asked carefully.

He tilted his head, a faint smile ghosting his lips. “Sit down, Sylvia.”

My heart stuttered. I obeyed, sinking into the worn couch as he reached for the remote. The TV flickered to life.

And then I saw her.

Abigail.

The perfect model, flawless and smug — now a pale shadow on the screen. Her mugshot flashed between headlines:

“Model Abigail Adams Under Investigation for Large-Scale Investment Fraud.”

“Authorities Freeze Accounts, Launch Manhunt After Evidence Leak.”

Her face was everywhere — the news anchors speaking like vultures circling a wounded animal. I could see the fear in her eyes even through the grainy footage.

I looked up at Derek. “You… did this?”

He didn’t answer, just watched the screen with quiet satisfaction, his jaw tight. Then he finally said, “That’s just the beginning. She tried to destroy you — your name, your life. I’m only making her taste what she served.”

I swallowed hard. “But this… she could be arrested for something she didn’t even do.”

His gaze cut to me, sharp and possessive. “And what about what she did do, Sylvia? Did she think twice before showing that video? Before humiliating you in front of your family?”

I wanted to argue, but the words caught in my throat. He wasn’t wrong. Abigail’s betrayal had burned deep — the kind that made sleep feel like guilt.

But seeing her like that — terrified, hunted — it felt different.

I whispered, “You look… better today.”

That broke the tension. His smirk softened, and he crouched in front of me, resting his hands on my knees. “I feel better,” he murmured. “Because you’re safe. Because I’m taking control again. Because no one — not even Abigail — gets to touch what’s mine.”

My breath hitched. The way he said mine always did something to me. Dangerous and beautiful all at once.

He lifted his hand, brushing a strand of hair from my face. “Tell me,” he said softly, “how are you feeling?”

I hesitated. “Numb… but less scared. Maybe because you’re here.”

He smiled — a real one this time — and leaned in, pressing his lips to my forehead. “Then that’s all I need to hear.”

Our silence deepened, the kind that wasn’t empty anymore but full — of everything unsaid, of everything we were afraid to admit.

When he kissed me, it wasn’t gentle. It was desperate — like he’d been starving and I was the only thing left that could save him. My hands tangled in his hair, pulling him closer. His warmth swallowed my doubts, his touch erasing every question I’d had when I woke.

The world outside — the chaos, the revenge, Abigail’s downfall — it all dissolved between our breaths.

He lifted me effortlessly, carrying me back to the bed, his lips never leaving mine. “I told you,” he murmured against my neck, voice low and dark, “I’ll always be by your side, no matter what.”

And I believed him. God help me, I did.

His fingers trailed down my spine, his body pressing into mine with that same consuming force that terrified me and set me free all at once. Every kiss, every touch was a vow. His way of saying he’d burn the world before letting it take me.

When the storm of it passed, I lay against his chest, breathless, tracing the tattoo over his heart.

“Derek,” I whispered. “Maybe it’s time we go home. We can’t hide forever. We have to face them — our parents, the family, the truth.”

He was quiet for a long moment, his thumb drawing circles over my skin.

Then he said, “You’re right. We’ll go back. But we go back on our terms, not theirs. They’ll see who we are, together.”

The weight of his words settled in me — a promise and a threat.

Outside, the sky was beginning to brighten. The world was waking up to chaos — Abigail’s name trending, her life unraveling. And here we were, wrapped in stolen peace, waiting for the storm to find us again.

Somewhere, on a screen, Abigail’s voice broke through:

“Please, I didn’t do any of this. Someone’s framing me!”

But no one would believe her. Derek had made sure of that.

I closed my eyes, pressing closer to him. Because even though I knew what he’d done, even though it s

cared me…

I couldn’t imagine life without him anymore.

And maybe that was the real danger.