Deborah's POV
I sat on the edge of my bed, my thoughts tangled like a mess of threads.
The night had already deepened, yet sleep was nowhere to be found.
As I lay there in the stillness, contemplating what my next move should be, a light knock on the door startled me out of my reverie.
"Who's there?" I whispered cautiously.
The door creaked open slowly, revealing Cora's familiar silhouette in the dim light.
She stood in the doorway, dragging a small suitcase behind her, her face streaked with tears.
Her eyes were red and puffy—clear evidence of crying herself hoarse.
"Cora?" I was utterly taken aback, my voice wavering slightly. "What are you doing here?"
She didn't respond immediately.
Instead, she walked in quietly, let go of her suitcase, and dropped heavily onto my narrow bed, the only decent piece of furniture in my cramped room.
I glanced around. My space was already small, just a single bed, a tiny desk squeezed into the corner, a simple wardrobe, and a barely functional bathroom tucked behind a flimsy partition.
It wasn't much, and now, with Cora's sudden presence, it felt even smaller.
"From today onward, I'm staying here," she announced, her voice firm, though slightly muffled.
I blinked, completely at a loss. "What happened, Cora?"
"I had a fight with my father," she said curtly. "I ran away from home."
"Ran away?" My voice shot up an octave, disbelief coloring every word.
Her expression darkened, and she looked down at her hands.
For a long moment, she said nothing. Then, almost reluctantly, she whispered, "He's forcing me to get married."
"Married?" I nearly choked on the word. "To whom? You don't even have a boyfriend. How can he suddenly decide to marry you off?"
She let out a bitter laugh, the sound harsh in the quiet room. "That's the thing. I don't even know the man. He showed up at our house today out of the blue. They were discussing business when I walked in."
I listened quietly, a sense of unease growing in my chest.
"My father introduced him like… like I was some kind of object to be handed over." Her voice shook with anger and humiliation. "But this guy didn't even bother to look at me. He just said he already has a fiancee and isn't interested in me."
My mind raced, trying to process what she was saying. "Wait, so he rejected you? That doesn't make any sense. Why would your father want you to marry a man who doesn't want you?"
Cora's lips twisted into a rueful smile. "That's what I thought too. But after that guy left, my father turned to me and told me to make this marriage happen — by any means necessary. He said it would be 'safer' for me."
"Safer?" I repeated, bewildered. "What does that mean? Why would marrying a stranger make you safer?"
She took a deep breath, as if trying to calm herself. But I could see her hands trembling, her knuckles white from the tension.
"I don't know," she murmured, her voice strained. "All I know is that my father respects this man… no, it's more than that. He's scared of him."
My mind latched onto her words. Scared? Peter Cox, the stern, commanding Colonel of Murias, was scared of someone?
[Chad Baker or Cad Baker, who cares? I'm not marrying a forty-something-year-old man.]
My breath caught in my throat.
Chad Baker...
So, my suspicions were correct.
Chad Baker, the man I once trusted with my heart, the one who tore it apart, was here.
Now he was using the same authority and power that had destroyed my life to trap Cora in a web she couldn't escape.
He was tying her to the very people who had annihilated everything I'd once held dear.
Cora's voice broke through my thoughts. "My father was practically groveling in front of him. He never does that, not to anyone."
"Did he tell you anything else about who this man is?" I forced myself to sound calm, my hands clenched tightly in my lap.
Cora shook her head slowly, looking lost. "No… Just that he's not from around here. My father didn't say it outright, but I think… I think he's from outside Murias."
"Outside Murias?" I echoed, my pulse quickening. "But… that's not possible. No one from outside has contact with us."
"Then why does he have so much power over my father?" Cora demanded, her voice rising in pitch. "Why would my father, the Colonel of Murias, obey him without question?"
I took a deep breath, trying to piece together the fragments of information.
If Chad really was back and working with the new regime, then everything was far more complicated than I'd imagined.
He was the liaison, the link between the sky cities and Murias, and now, the enforcer of this new order.
But who was pulling his strings? Which family was he serving now? Thorne? Edwards? Blackwood? Or Vandran?
I had no answers.
"Did your father say anything about why he wants this marriage to happen?" I asked softly.
Cora shook her head again, eyes filling with tears of frustration. "No. Just that it would 'secure my future.' As if I'm some bargaining chip."
My heart ached for her. She was only trying to make sense of a world that had no logic, trapped in a nightmare she couldn't wake from.
I reached out and squeezed her hand gently. "Cora, you can stay here as long as you want. Take your time. We'll figure this out together."
She looked up at me, eyes wide and shining with unshed tears. "Deborah… Thank you."
My arms wrapped around her instinctively, and I held her close, feeling her lean into my embrace.
"I'm sorry, Cora… I'm so sorry."
"Don't be." She gave a shaky laugh. "You're the only one who's ever been on my side."
My chest tightened painfully.
The truth of my identity, of who I really was, pressed heavily on my tongue, but I swallowed it back. Now wasn't the time.
She was my friend, the only friend I had in this forsaken place.
And I wouldn't let anything happen to her.
Even if it meant keeping my own secrets locked away.
From that night on, Cora moved into my tiny room. We shared the narrow bed, our conversations running late into the night.
She opened up more than I'd ever seen, sharing her fears, her suspicions, and even her loathing for Chad Baker.
And all I could do was listen, offering her comfort and a silent vow.
I would protect her. No matter what.
Now, with Chad in the picture and the stakes higher than ever, I knew one thing for sure:
I couldn't afford to lose her — not again.
It was a quiet weekend morning, just like any other, when Cora and I woke up together.
We stood before my dull, monotonous wardrobe, surrounded by those drab, worn-out clothes.
With only a few basic tools and almost no materials, we launched into an impromptu "fashion makeover" session.
As we snipped and stitched, the room filled with soft laughter—sometimes sparked by a design that went awry, other times by a clever little adjustment that made us clap with delight.
The whole space buzzed with an unusual warmth and ease, a fleeting reprieve from the usual tension.
Then, without warning, a sudden, sharp knock shattered our peaceful moment.
Cora and I exchanged startled glances, the smiles freezing on our faces.
Who could it be, knocking at this hour?