Ryan’s POV
I stared at the photo on my phone, my blood boiling with rage. I had no idea who had sent it or why, but the image alone was enough to twist sothing sharp in my chest.
I couldn’t confront Serena about it—what right did I even have?
But that didn’t stop from monitoring every sound from next door, my ears practically pressed against the wall. The only small comfort was that they’d kept the door open the entire ti.
When I finally heard Julian preparing to leave, I set aside my laptop and moved to my door.
The timing had to look casual, but I wasn’t about to let him strut away without acknowledging the territory he was treading on.
Our eyes locked in the hallway. The tension was imdiate, thick enough to choke on.
Julian didn’t hurry off. Instead, he gave this smug little smile that made my fingers itch to rearrange his face.
"So you’ve moved in right next door," he observed with mock surprise. "Being closer to the water doesn’t guarantee you’ll drink first, you know."
"Still better odds than being rejected outright," I shot back.
His expression flickered. Good. Hit a nerve there.
"Since you’re already an ex-husband, maybe keep so appropriate distance?" he suggested, eyes hardening. "Serena was absolutely livid after seeing you. If I hadn’t been with her, she might have collapsed on the sidewalk with no one to help."
My jaw clenched. "You’re crossing lines, Julian."
"Serena’s single," he said with infuriating confidence. "I have every right to pursue her. Don’t think that just because she’s carrying your child you can do whatever you want."
He stepped closer, his voice dropping. "And I won’t back off. Not for you. Not for anyone."
We stood there, locked in silent combat, neither willing to break first. Finally, Julian turned and stepped into the elevator, leaving staring daggers at the closing doors.
I glanced at Serena’s firmly shut door, then slamd my own with enough force to rattle the hinges.
The cold war between us stretched into days. We didn’t cross paths once, though not for lack of trying on my part.
I found myself listening for her movents, sotis standing by my door when I heard her in the hallway, but never quite finding the right mont to "accidentally" run into her.
anwhile, Sophie was becoming a constant presence at headquarters, showing up with homade als almost daily. I refused to see her, but she wasn’t easily deterred. She’d leave the food and disappear without complaint, a patient predator biding her ti.
After nearly a week of this, she changed tactics. My phone rang just past midnight as I was finishing so work at the office.
"Ryan?" Sophie’s voice ca through small and frightened. "I’m scared. Soone’s following ... they keep knocking on my door."
I rubbed my temples, exhaustion washing over . "Have you called the police?"
She let out a choked sob. "No, I—I’m afraid they’ll break in before the police arrive. Please, Ryan, I’m terrified. Could you co check? Please?"
I hesitated, and in that mont, a scream pierced through the phone, followed by Sophie’s panicked voice:
"Who are you? Get out!"
Then the line went dead.
Damn it. I grabbed my coat and rushed out, speeding all the way to her apartnt. Whatever our past, I couldn’t ignore soone potentially in danger.
When I arrived, her door stood ajar. Inside, Sophie sat amidst upturned furniture and scattered possessions, her face tear-stained and eyes red-rimd.
"What happened here?" I demanded from the doorway.
She launched herself at , burying her face against my chest before I could step back.
"Ryan!" she sobbed. "I was so scared! I thought he was going to kill !"
I didn’t push her away imdiately, letting her calm down first. Once her breathing steadied, I tried again.
"Sophie, what happened exactly?"
She looked up at , her whole body trembling. "It’s—it’s my ex-husband. He’s not dead. He found !"
"Ex-husband?" This was news to . "He’s alive? Why is he causing trouble for you?"
Her eyes filled with fresh tears, desperation written across her face. "Ryan, please take away from here. He knows where I live now. He’ll co back tomorrow!"
I surveyed the wrecked living room with its overturned tables and broken glass. With a sigh, I led her to my car. She grabbed only her purse, clinging to my arm as if afraid I’d vanish.
The car’s heater gradually thawed her panic, and she began explaining in fragnted sentences.
"I never told you everything about my past," she said, voice quavering. "Yes, my ex-husband did save , but I never wanted to be with him. He pursued relentlessly."
She gripped my arm tighter. "At first, he seed caring, but he turned out to be a monster! He had these... perversions. He monitored constantly, isolated from everyone. I was practically his prisoner until I finally escaped."
Tears stread down her face again. "I thought returning to the country would keep safe from him. But now..."
"I’m so scared, Ryan..."
As her story unfolded, I pieced together the narrative she was spinning.
"I understand," I said finally, gently extracting my arm from her grip. "You can’t stay at your place now. I’ll arrange new accommodations for you tomorrow."
She nodded frantically, still looking thoroughly rattled.
"You can stay at a hotel tonight," I suggested.
"No!" Her eyes widened in fresh panic. "He’ll find ! He could be watching right now from sowhere, tracking my movents."
She shuddered visibly, and I sighed.
"What do you suggest then?"
"Take to your family ho," she pleaded. "I promise I won’t be any trouble. If he finds again, I’ll never see you again—he’ll drag away forever!"
I hesitated for a long ti while Sophie continued her soft weeping, looking utterly helpless and broken.
Against my better judgnt, I finally relented. "Let’s go."
And so Sophie got her wish, moving into the Blackwood mansion that sa night.
Though I placed her in a guest room on the first floor, far from my quarters, she seed perfectly satisfied.
Exhaustion hit like a wave as I gave the staff brief instructions before heading upstairs.
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