The room was dim, lit only by a crooked floor lamp casting long, angular shadows across the worn wooden floor. Ava paced in tight, sharp lines near the bed, every nerve on edge. The safehouse was quiet, too quiet—aside from the occasional creak of old wood or the rustle of branches scratching the windows outside.
She hadn't spoken to Leonard since he locked her in here two days ago.
Correction: since he kidnapped her.
He called it "protecting" her.
She called it a prison.
She had tried everything—bribing, yelling, throwing things—but the man was infuriatingly calm, unreadable. He refused to answer her questions. Instead, he cooked, left her books, even brought her clothes in her size as if this were some kind of bizarre Airbnb stay instead of an abduction.
She hated how he moved through the space with quiet confidence, as though he wasn't falling apart inside. But she could see the cracks—brief flares in his eyes when he looked at her, the way his hands sometimes trembled when he thought she wasn't looking.
It meant he knew something.
And tonight, she was going to find out what.
She paused when she heard the floor creak outside her door. Quiet footsteps. A light knock—once, then silence.
She backed into the shadows just as Leonard opened the door a crack, scanned the room, then slipped in. He thought she was asleep.
Her pulse quickened.
He crossed to the window, pulling out his phone as he leaned on the sill. With his back to her, he swiped across the screen, lifted it to his ear, and spoke in a low, clipped voice.
Ava didn't dare move.
"Yeah. I got her," he said. "No… she doesn't know. Not the whole thing, anyway."
His tone was sharper than usual, strained. She inched closer, every step like balancing on glass.
"We need more time. I told you—I had to take her. The timeline changed."
Silence. Then: "No, Luca doesn't know yet. I'm not dragging him into this until I'm sure. He's already unstable."
Ava's heart dropped. Luca? What did Leonard mean?
"She's close to figuring it out. Too close," Leonard said. "I just need a few days. Then I'll hand her over and disappear."
Hand her over? Ava's breath caught.
There was a long pause. Leonard shifted his weight.
"Because I owe him," he finally said, voice lower now. "Because if I don't do this, everything we've worked for burns. And so do we."
Another pause.
"Yeah," he muttered. "I know what I said. But she wasn't supposed to matter."
Ava's stomach twisted.
He sighed heavily. "Just… don't call again unless it's urgent."
He ended the call, still staring out the window, fists clenched. For a few moments, he stood there, silent. Then suddenly, with a frustrated growl, he hurled the phone across the room. It hit the wall and shattered, the pieces scattering like broken promises.
Ava flinched as Leonard dropped into a chair, head in his hands.
She could leave now. Creep back to the bed, pretend she hadn't heard anything. Wait for morning, act normal, and plan her escape.
But she didn't move.
She just stared at the broken man in the chair—the one who had kidnapped her, yes, but who was also clearly battling demons she couldn't see.
"I wasn't supposed to matter?" she whispered, stepping into the light.
Leonard jerked up, eyes wide. "Ava—"
"Don't," she snapped, voice trembling. "Don't lie to me. I heard everything."
He stood, quickly closing the distance between them. "It's not what it sounded like—"
"Then explain it," she said. "Explain why you kidnapped me. Explain who you're handing me over to. Explain why the hell Luca's name was in that conversation!"
Leonard's mouth opened, then closed. He ran a hand through his hair, visibly unraveling.
"You weren't supposed to hear that," he said.
"I'm so sick of being in the dark!" she shouted, pushing past him. "You know things—things about my family, about me—and you keep holding them hostage!"
Leonard grabbed her wrist, gently. "Ava, please—"
"Let me go!" she hissed, jerking free.
He stepped back, and for the first time, he looked scared. "If I tell you everything, it puts you in more danger. You don't understand the people we're dealing with."
"I don't care," she said. "You made me care. You dragged me into this, Leonard. So stop pretending you're protecting me and tell me the truth."
They stared at each other, breathless.
Finally, he said, "I didn't know who you were at first. I swear. But when I figured it out, I tried to keep you out of it."
"You're failing," she said coldly.
"I know," he whispered.
Ava stepped closer. "Who was on the phone?"
He hesitated.
"Who, Leonard?"
"…Lucien," he said.
Her blood ran cold.
He nodded, slowly. "He's the one I owe. The one pulling all the strings. He told me to keep you close. To make sure you didn't remember too much."
"You work for him?"
"I used to," he said. "Not anymore. But he still thinks I do."
She wanted to scream.
"You lied to me."
"I protected you," he said, eyes blazing now. "You think I wanted to kidnap you? You think I'm proud of that? I did it because if Lucien found out what you know, what you're capable of exposing, he wouldn't hesitate to kill you. And Luca."
Ava's throat tightened.
He stepped closer again. "I'm trying to buy time. To find a way out—for both of you."
Her head spun.
She looked at him, really looked. His face was bruised with guilt, exhaustion, longing.
"Do you have feelings for me?" she asked suddenly.
He froze.
"I need to know," she said. "Because if you don't—then let me go. Let me go before this gets worse."
Leonard didn't move. But his eyes—God, his eyes—burned into hers.
"I told you," he whispered, voice rough. "You weren't supposed to matter."
And then, finally: "But you do."
Ava's heart twisted painfully. She turned away before he could see the tears prick her eyes.
"I need air," she said, shoving past him, heading for the door.
He let her go this time.
But when she stepped into the cold night, she knew nothing would be the same again.
She had to survive this.
She had to figure out what Leonard was still hiding.
And she had to decide who to trust… before it was too late.
She returned home, it was dark and her tummy was grumbling.
Something smells delicious but she was still avoiding Leonard.
She just needs to take a shower. She looks over and sees a note.
'Get dressed, we are having dinner together'
How romantic, she rolls her eyes, she wasn't going to honor his invitation.
She throws the note away and turns to the bathroom
Her tummy grumbled louder, her ulcer was starting to hurt.
She decided to got for dinner, she might be upset with Leonard, but she won't say no to a good meal.
The dress on the bed was beautiful, and it was her size, she wasn't surprised because he was a player.
He's definitely used to buying dresses for women.
LEONARD'S POV
The moment she descended the stairs, everything in him stilled. Ava was wearing a soft navy-blue dress—simple but devastating. Her curls were pinned up, exposing the slope of her neck, and her bare shoulders gleamed faintly in the candlelight. It wasn't the first time he'd seen her look beautiful, but this… this was different. This was the kind of beauty that made a man forget who he was, what he was doing, and why he ever agreed to betray her in the first place.
He quickly looked away, pretending to be busy adjusting the music. The soft jazz track he'd picked now felt like a trap—too intimate, too revealing. He hadn't expected the note to work. Hadn't expected her to actually come down. He assumed she'd burn it.
They sat down in silence. He poured her wine, avoiding her eyes. His stomach twisted with guilt. This dinner was supposed to be part of the plan—part of getting her to trust him again, to create the illusion of care. But it didn't feel like strategy anymore.
He glanced at her hands—delicate fingers clasped tensely in her lap. He wanted to reach for them. Wanted to tell her everything. That Lucien had promised him power. That he was supposed to charm her, seduce her, then marry her so the trust fund—and the legacy—would legally pass through him.
But now, all he could think about was how she'd looked earlier that day when she laughed—so rare, so unguarded. He'd never expected to fall for her.
He was in too deep.
And he was the villain in this story.
AVA'S POV
The dinner was too quiet.
Too tender.
Leonard didn't say much, and when he looked at her, his expression flickered with something she couldn't name—regret, longing, guilt? She didn't trust him. Couldn't afford to. Yet her heart betrayed her, thumping harder when their fingers brushed as he passed the bread.
The music played softly, romantic and slow. It made her want to cry.
For a moment, just a moment, she imagined another life. One where he wasn't her kidnapper. One where this dinner was a date, where she wore the navy dress because she wanted to impress him. One where his gaze lingered on her because he loved her, not because he was manipulating her.
But reality hit hard and fast. She excused herself halfway through dessert and went to her room. Pacing. Thinking. Every instinct screamed that something was coming.
She had to move. Had to leave.
11:30 pm
Ava's POV
The wind whipped at her face as she ran deeper into the forest, the cold biting into her skin, but she didn't care. Her lungs burned with each breath, her heartbeat pounding louder than the sound of branches snapping beneath her boots. She had to get away. The moment had been too perfect—too deliberate. The note, the music, the way Leonard looked at her like she was something he didn't want to lose.
Something wasn't right.
She ducked under a low-hanging branch, nearly tripping over a root. The further she ran, the darker it became. The moonlight barely filtered through the thick canopy above. The trees looked like shadows with claws. Every instinct in her screamed that someone—or something—was watching.
And then she heard it.
Voices. Not Leonard's. Hushed, clipped commands spoken over walkie-talkies. She dropped to the ground and crawled behind a tree, straining to listen.
"She's close."
"Lucien said don't hurt her."
Her breath caught. Lucien. They were his men.
Leonard's POV
He hadn't realized how quiet the cabin had become until he noticed the sound of her footsteps was missing. The air shifted—like it always did when something was wrong. Then he saw the open door. His chest tightened.
"Ava," he whispered to the empty room.
And then louder. "AVA!"
He grabbed a flashlight and a pistol—precaution more than intention—and sprinted out into the woods. She couldn't have gone far, not in this dark. He cursed under his breath.
Why did she run?
No—he knew why. Because of the plan. Because she didn't trust him. Because if she found out the truth…
The guilt gnawed at his ribs like a feral dog. He hadn't meant for this to go so far. At first, it was just a job. Make her trust him. Get her to fall for him. Keep her in line until the inheritance could be transferred. Lucien's orders had been clear. But Ava was never part of the deal. Not really. Not like this.
He wasn't supposed to fall for her.
He heard the static crackle of walkie-talkies in the distance—Lucien's men. His stomach dropped. "Shit."
Back to Ava's POV
She crept from behind the tree, taking small, calculated steps. She needed to get back. She should've waited. This was a mistake.
A twig snapped behind her.
She turned sharply—and froze.
A flashlight beam cut through the trees, landing on her face.
"There!" a voice shouted.
She ran.
Branches scratched her arms. Leaves slapped her face. She pushed forward, heart beating like a war drum. Then—strong arms grabbed her waist from behind. She screamed, flailing, kicking—
"It's me!"
Leonard.
He pulled her down into the brush just as the footsteps approached. He wrapped his hand over her mouth, whispering into her ear, "Don't move. Don't say a word."
They lay pressed together in the undergrowth, his body shielding hers as two men passed only feet away. She could feel his breath on her neck, fast and shaky, not from exertion—but fear.
When the danger had passed, he pulled away slightly but didn't let her go.
"What were you thinking?" he whispered fiercely.
"I needed to leave—"
"You almost ran into them."
Her heart pounded harder. "Lucien sent them, didn't he?"
Leonard didn't answer. He just looked at her.
The flashlight beam was still glowing beside them, casting soft light on his face. She could see the war behind his eyes. Not rage. Not panic. Regret.
"You're not safe out here," he said.
"I'm not safe with you either," she snapped.
He looked away.
She noticed his hand was shaking.
"What aren't you telling me, Leonard?"
"I can't—"
"Then why did you come after me?"
He didn't answer. Instead, he brushed a leaf from her cheek, then slowly stood and offered her his hand.
"Please," he said, voice softer now. "Just come back inside. Let me explain."
She hesitated.
She was still ready to run.
But something in his eyes stopped her.
Something real.
Something broken.
And maybe… something true.