The next morning, Elliot sat at his desk in the study, watching Harris and Sarah unpack their equipment. They had only arrived at the estate yesterday afternoon, but already, their presence had shifted the atmosphere. Unlike the other staff, they weren’t here to blend in. Their job was simple—reinforce and upgrade security. But there was more to it than that.

Sarah set a small black device on the desk. “This is what Ava and I developed,” she said. “Once installed, it embeds advanced countermeasures into your system. It automatically blocks unauthorized access and masks outgoing transmissions.”

Elliot picked up the device, turning it over between his fingers. It was simple-looking—just a black rectangle. “Can it be detected?”

Harris shook his head. “Not with conventional tools. It blends seamlessly into your system. To anyone trying to breach it, everything will appear normal.”

Sarah added, “This isn’t just defensive—it’s offensive. It tracks any interference and reroutes the signals, sending false data back to whoever is attempting to infiltrate.”

“What about Alexia’s private security to her suite? It was just completed two months ago.”

“Because the equipment is recent, it would take less than two hours to update her private security system. We have already checked her system, and it is secure,” said Harris.

“We should do your system first, then Alexia’s, then the rest of the estate,” said Sarah.

Elliot set the device down. “Alexia and Anna just left to go shopping. Start with her system now, then update mine, followed by the estate. Message Anna to keep Alexia out until you message that it is clear to return.”

Sarah nodded. “That was Ava’s directive as well.”

“Great, we’re on the same page.”

Sarah booted up Elliot’s mainframe, inserting a custom encryption module she had programmed with Ava. The system beeped before stabilizing.

“This will take about thirty minutes,” Sarah said, eyes on the screen. “Once integrated, no one—not even the best hackers—will be able to access Alexia’s or your private servers.”

“Ava wanted you to know this upgrade includes hidden security layers even within your own estate’s system. That means additional countermeasures that aren’t visible on the primary network. If someone inside the estate tries to tamper with security, they won’t see these layers at all,” said Harris.

“Meaning?”

“Meaning even your own internal staff won’t know everything that’s been updated. You and Anna are the only ones with full access. Ava trusts Anna to protect Alexia and you. She is your top agent in your estate. Trust her instincts,” said Sarah.

Elliot exhaled. He had expected an upgrade, but not to this extent. Ava and Ben weren’t just cautious. They were paranoid—and for good reason.

“Sarah, how long have you worked with Ava?”

Sarah’s fingers flew across the keyboard as she replied, “Off and on for three years. But I’ve known her longer.”

“Ava and Ben are both geniuses,” Elliot muttered, watching the screen fill with layers of code.

Sarah let out a quiet laugh. “If you only knew to what extent.”

“Working with them is a privilege. I’m just glad they’re on our side,” said Harris.

Sarah nodded in agreement. “I’m not joking, Elliot. If Ava and Ben ever turned against us, it wouldn’t be a fight, it would be a massacre.”

Elliot absorbed that statement in silence. He had seen glimpses of their brilliance, but he always thought there was more to them beneath the surface.

“I agree,” said Elliot.

“One last thing... has Ava given you the five-piece jewelry set for Alexia?” asked Sarah.

Elliot nodded. “She gave it to me before they left for Rome two days ago.”

“Good. Give it to Alexia as soon as possible.”

“Why?”

Sarah exchanged a look with Harris before replying. “It’s already saved at least five wives of our clients in the past year. Ava designed it to be undetectable—all five pieces hold multiple tracking devices and a built-in distress signal.”

Elliot’s grip on his coffee mug tightened. Alexia has no idea how deep this all ran.

Sarah continued, “If you ever need to find her, it’ll take seconds. But more importantly, if she ever needs you... she won’t have to call.”

Elliot glanced at the black case storing the jewelry. Tonight, he’d make sure Alexia had it—even if she didn’t know why.

The boutique art store had the familiar scent of oil paints, fresh canvas, and aged paper. Alexia took a slow breath, letting the atmosphere settle on her nerves. It had been a long time since she had browsed a store like this—without worry, without second-guessing every movement around her.

Anna walked beside her, silent but observant, her gaze sweeping over the aisles with an alertness Alexia recognized. Even though Anna didn’t act overtly protective, Alexia knew she was mentally mapping the room—checking exits, noting faces.

“You’re my bodyguard now, right? Might as well make yourself useful.”

“Don’t tempt me. I might start making executive decisions on your color choices.”

Alexia gasped in mock offense. “You wouldn’t dare.”

Anna plucked a bright green tube of paint from the shelf and held it up. “Step out of the tortured artist aesthetic. Try something lively.”

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Alexia shook her head. “That color does not belong in my work.”

Anna gave her a knowing look. “Maybe that’s the problem.”

Alexia paused, her fingers tracing over deep blues and crimsons. Without thinking, she picked up a familiar shade—a red close to what she had used for a certain painting. The one that still hung in Elliot’s bedroom.

Anna noticed. “You paint with a lot of red and black.”

Alexia hesitated. “I don’t think about it. It just... happens.”

Anna studied her carefully. “Or maybe it’s something deeper than that.”

Alexia tried to shake the thought, but it stuck with her. She had never analyzed why those colors spoke to her. Painting had always been instinctual, something she didn’t need to dissect.

Instead of answering, she tucked the paint under her arm and moved down the aisle.

As Alexia reached for a fine detail brush, the sensation hit her—a slow prickle at the base of her neck, like a thread pulled tight. It wasn’t the temperature. It wasn’t the music. It was something else.

She turned her head, scanning the store. Everything appeared normal. A couple flipping through sketchbooks, a clerk ringing up a sale, an older woman browsing watercolors.

Still, the feeling lingered.

Anna caught the hesitation in her movement. “Something wrong?”

Alexia forced a small smile. “No... just thought I saw someone I knew.”

Anna didn’t push, but Alexia noticed how subtly her stance changed—shoulders squared, posture alert.

Unbeknownst to Alexia, Taylor and Sheila Martin were already in position. Taylor stood near the front, flipping through a sketchpad like a distracted shopper. Sheila browsed in the back, pretending to examine a row of brushes.

Taylor looked toward the entrance.

A man lingered by the doorway, pretending to browse. But he wasn’t looking at anything.

Taylor’s grip on the sketchpad tightened. He lifted his phone, pretending to check a message. “Possible interest in the target,” he murmured under his breath. “No movement yet.”

Sheila, without looking up, responded. “Noted.”

The man lingered a moment longer before slipping outside.

Taylor and Sheila didn’t follow. No need to cause alarm—not yet.

Anna picked up a pack of fine brushes and handed them to Alexia. “Here. These are better than the ones you’re holding.”

“Are you seriously critiquing my brush choices now?”

“Consider it an intervention.”

Alexia shook her head with a quiet laugh. It felt normal—this back and forth, this small moment of peace in a life that had been nothing but chaos.

As they reached the checkout, Anna stretched. “Coffee. We need coffee. I assume you drink it black and brooding, just like your paintings?”

Alexia rolled her eyes. “Not everything about me is dark and dramatic.”

Anna gave her a side glance. “Sure.”

Alexia smiled. She liked Anna. More than that—she trusted her.

As they stepped outside, Taylor and Sheila followed, ensuring that a moment of peace remained just that.

For now.

Alexia had just settled into the comfort of her room when her phone buzzed. She glanced at the screen—Myra.

She hesitated before answering, still processing everything that had happened in the last twenty-four hours. With the estate’s security reinforced, and despite their conversation, she still wasn’t sure what to believe about everything he had told her.

“Hey, Myra.”

“Finally, you pick up,” Myra said. “I was starting to think you were avoiding me.”

Alexia rolled her eyes, relaxing at Myra’s teasing. “No, just... a lot going on.”

“Yeah, I figured. So, how’s life in billionaire land? Have you adjusted to being the queen of the estate yet?”

Alexia let out a soft laugh. “Not exactly.” She glanced around the lavishly decorated room, still feeling like a guest in Elliot’s world. “It’s... complicated.”

There was a pause before Myra spoke again, her voice softer. “Complicated how?”

Alexia hesitated. She wasn’t sure how much she should say. Elliot had warned her to keep things to herself, but this was Myra—her best friend. The one person who had always been in her corner.

“I don’t know,” Alexia admitted. “Elliot is... different. Protective. Overbearing, even.”

“That’s not exactly new, is it?”

“No. But it feels different this time.”

“Well,” Myra said, “you know my stance on men who think they can run your life for you.”

“Oh, I remember. ‘If he tells you what to do, set something on fire.’”

“Exactly,” Myra said with a laugh. “Not literally, of course. But don’t let him steamroll you, Alexia. You’re stronger than that.”

“It’s not just about him, Myra. There’s a lot going on, things I don’t quite understand yet.”

Another pause. Myra’s tone turned more cautious. “You sound... uneasy.”

“I guess I am,” Alexia admitted. “It just feels like there are things happening around me that I’m not seeing clearly.”

“Well, if you ever need an escape, lunch is always on the table,” Myra offered. “Just say the word, and we’ll go wherever you want.”

“I appreciate it, but I have a gallery deadline looming over me. I can’t disappear right now.”

“You sure?” Myra pressed. “You sound like you need a break.”

Alexia hesitated, feeling an odd sense of tension she couldn’t quite place. Maybe it was just the stress of everything with Elliot. Maybe it was paranoia creeping in.

“I’m sure,” she said. “But I’ll let you know if that changes.”

“Deal,” Myra said. Then, after a brief pause, “Take care of yourself, okay? And don’t let Mr. Billionaire push you around.”

Alexia laughed. “I won’t.”

As the call ended, she sat there for a moment, staring at the phone.

Something about the conversation felt... off. Myra had been her usual self—sarcastic, teasing, affectionate—but there was something in her tone. A hesitation. A carefulness.

Maybe she was just overthinking it. Or maybe, deep down, she had the sinking feeling that things weren’t as simple as they seemed.

The air in Elliot’s private suite felt different from the rest of the estate—more lived-in. The space carried an understated elegance, but its warmth came from the personal touches Alexia hadn’t expected. A well-worn leather chair beside the fireplace, books stacked haphazardly on a side table, the faint scent of cedar and something uniquely him lingering in the air.

She took a slow step inside, eyes scanning the room until they landed on something that made her breath hitch.

A painting. Her painting, “Passion.”.

The one she had created years ago, a moment frozen in time—her and Elliot together, before everything fell apart.

Her fingers traced the edge of the frame, her heart tightening. He had kept it. All this time.

She turned to face him. “Why?”

Elliot held her gaze. “Because that night... it was the first time I realized I wanted something real.”

Alexia swallowed hard, torn between anger and something deeper, something she didn’t want to name.

“You could have fooled me,” she murmured, voice softer than she intended.

Elliot took a step closer, his presence steady but not imposing. “I know I don’t deserve your trust, Alexia. But I’m asking for it anyway.”

She inhaled. “I don’t know how to do this.”

Elliot’s phone vibrated, but he ignored it. “Then let me show you.”

His hand brushed against hers, a fleeting touch—light, tentative, waiting for her to pull away. But she didn’t.

Blindly, she leaned in ever so slightly, their breaths mingling in the space between them.

Elliot tilted his head, waiting. He wouldn’t take more than she was willing to give.

The distance between them vanished, their lips barely touching.

A deafening alarm shattered the silence.

The estate’s security system blared, the sharp, jarring noise ripping through the moment like a blade.

Elliot moved instantly, instinct taking over as he crossed the room in three quick strides, activating a hidden security panel.

“Elliot,” Alexia breathed, her pulse still racing from more than just the alarm. “What is happening?”

Elliot’s expression hardened as he locked down the suite, his voice steady but sharp.

“We’re on lockdown until we find out who’s out there—and what they want.”

A second later, his phone vibrated against the desk. He snatched it up without hesitation.

Harris’s voice was low and urgent. “This isn’t a drill. Someone breached the perimeter.”

“Understood.”

He looked at Alexia, standing frozen near the painting, her expression a mix of confusion and concealed fear. He went to Alexia and cuddled her. She could hear the beat of his heart slowing down, which made the tension release from her shoulders, her breathing slowing down.

He took a breath, forcing himself to sound calm, controlled.

His voice dropped low. “The truth is... I have my own private... and you’re safe.”