Elena barely slept.
She drifted in and out of shallow dreams, each one carrying the same silent warning—dark corners, distant sirens, an unseen figure watching her from the edge of memory. Every time she jolted awake, her heart pounded like she had run a marathon.
By morning, the sky outside the penthouse windows was a pale grey, the color of unspoken worries. She rose from the bed slowly, as if any sudden movement might shatter the fragile calm she'd built through the night.
The house was quiet.
Too quiet.
Gabriel usually left early for work or stayed tucked away in his study, but today she sensed something different—like the silence itself was waiting.
When she stepped into the living room, she found him standing on the balcony, facing the city. The early sunlight painted a sharp outline around his figure, highlighting the tension in his shoulders. He wasn't dressed for the office yet. His shirt sleeves were rolled up, and his tie lay on the table behind him as if he had abandoned the idea of wearing it.
He had been awake as long as she had—maybe longer.
Elena hesitated before approaching. "You're up early."
Gabriel didn't turn, but his voice came low. "I didn't sleep much."
Neither did she.
She moved to stand beside him, the cold railing brushing her palms. From up here the city looked peaceful, unaware of the threats threading through both their lives.
"I can tell you're hiding something," he said quietly.
Her breath caught. "Gabriel—"
"You came home shaken." He finally turned to her, eyes searching. "And you're trying so hard to pretend nothing happened that it's making everything worse."
Elena swallowed hard. "I just… needed time to think."
"And did thinking help?"
"Not enough."
He waited, the morning breeze brushing against the loose strands of her hair. She realized she had two choices: keep him in the dark a little longer, or give him a piece of the truth and risk what he might do with it.
Before she could decide, his phone vibrated on the table.
He ignored it.
"Elena." His voice softened in a way that unnerved her more than his anger ever could. "Whatever it is, you're not alone in it. Just tell me."
She almost did.
She almost let everything spill—the messages, the photo, the fear that someone was re-opening the wounds she had barely learned to breathe around.
But then she remembered the last message:
You're not the only one who lost someone.
Someone wanted her questioning him.
Someone wanted her doubting everything.
She stepped back slightly, needing room to think. "I don't want to drag you into something that might not even be real."
He frowned. "Threats are real, Elena."
"Maybe this wasn't a threat. Maybe it was a mistake."
"You don't believe that."
She didn't. But she wasn't ready to hand him the whole truth yet.
Instead, she asked quietly, "Have you ever kept something from me to protect me?"
His jaw tightened almost imperceptibly. "Yes."
The honesty startled her.
"And will you tell me what it is?" she asked.
"No," he answered, with painful simplicity. "Not until I can do it without hurting you."
Her chest tightened. The distance between them suddenly felt sharper than the cold metal railing under her hands.
Before she could respond, the front door buzzer echoed through the penthouse.
Gabriel's eyes snapped toward the sound, his entire posture shifting—alert, guarded. Without wasting a second, he stepped inside.
"Stay here," he instructed.
But Elena followed him anyway, her bare feet silent on the polished floor.
The elevator doors opened, and a man in a grey suit stepped out. He carried a folder and a badge clipped to his belt. His face was expressionless, but his presence changed the air in the room like someone opening a window during a storm.
"Mr. Thorne," the man said, nodding. "We need to speak with you."
Gabriel stood still. "On what matter?"
"It concerns the death of Senator Hale."
Elena froze.
Senator Hale.
The man whose accusations had almost destroyed her yesterday.
The man who left Gabriel's office alive and furious.
The man now dead.
Her blood ran cold.
Gabriel's expression didn't change, but his stillness said everything. "When?"
"Early this morning," the officer replied. "We have some questions. It appears he had a confrontation with someone last night before he left the building."
Elena's heartbeat turned erratic.
Last night…
She had been out late.
Shaken.
Distracted.
And someone had sent her a message at the exact same time.
The officer's gaze drifted toward her. "And you must be Mrs. Thorne."
Elena forced a nod, though her throat felt tight.
"We may need to speak with you as well," he said politely.
Her stomach twisted.
Gabriel's voice cut through the tension, smooth but laced with steel. "If you want to question her, you go through me."
"Of course," the officer replied. "This is routine."
Routine.
Nothing about this felt routine.
After the officer stepped inside and began laying documents on the table, Gabriel leaned close enough for her to feel the warmth of his breath against her ear.
"We'll get through this," he murmured. "But whatever happened yesterday… tell me now, before this gets worse."
She looked up at him, eyes clouded with fear she could no longer hide.
"Gabriel," she whispered, "someone sent me a message last night."
His expression sharpened instantly. "What kind of message?"
"The kind that knows more than they should."
She finally unlocked her phone and handed it to him.
As Gabriel saw the photo, his face changed in a way she had never seen before—shock layered with fury, and something deeper… something like recognition.
"Elena," he said slowly, "this picture… it's not just a warning."
She swallowed, her voice trembling. "What is it then?"
Gabriel lifted his eyes to hers, and for the first time, she saw fear flicker inside them.
"It's a message from someone who shouldn't be alive."
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