The next morning, Ava woke up to an unusual silence. Her room felt colder, the air heavier. She glanced at the clock—8:15 a.m. She was late for breakfast, but it wasn't just her tardiness that felt off.
As she stepped into the hallway, she noticed the staff whispering in hushed tones. Their eyes darted toward her before quickly looking away. Her chest tightened. Something was wrong.
"Where's Alexander?" she asked one of the maids.
"He... he's in his study, Miss," the maid stammered, not meeting her eyes.
Ava made her way to the study, but when she opened the door, Alexander wasn't there. Papers were scattered across his desk, and a glass of whiskey sat untouched.
Panic bubbled in her chest. She turned and ran toward the garden, her mind racing. That's when she heard it—her name, carried on the wind, sharp and desperate.
"Ava!"
She spun around and saw him sprinting toward her, his usually composed demeanor completely shattered. Before she could speak, he pulled her into his arms, holding her so tightly it was as if he were afraid she'd disappear again.
"Where were you?" he demanded, his voice trembling.
"I was in my room—"
"I couldn't find you. I thought—" His voice broke, and he stepped back, running a hand through his hair. "Don't do that again. Don't disappear without telling me."
Ava stared at him, stunned. "I didn't disappear, Alexander. What's going on?"
He hesitated, his gaze darting to the ground. "I... I can't lose you," he admitted. "Not you. Not after everything."
Her heart ached at the raw emotion in his voice. "Alexander, what are you so afraid of?"
He looked at her, his eyes dark with something she couldn't quite name. "You don't need to understand. Just promise me you'll stay."
Before she could respond, the moment was interrupted by a staff member rushing toward them.
"Sir, the police are here," the man said, his voice shaky. "Another body has been found."
Later That Night
Ava couldn't sleep. The news of another murder had spread quickly, and the tension in the mansion was palpable. But it wasn't just the murder that kept her awake—it was Alexander.
The way he'd looked at her in the garden, the desperation in his voice... It was clear that he cared for her deeply. But it was also clear that he was carrying something heavy, something he couldn't share.
She wandered into his study, finding him seated by the fireplace, a glass of whiskey in his hand.
"You shouldn't be here," he said without looking up.
"I couldn't sleep," she admitted.
He sighed, gesturing for her to sit. "Neither could I."
They sat in silence for a while, the crackling fire the only sound. Finally, he spoke.
"You're the only thing that makes sense in all of this," he said quietly. "Everything else... it's chaos."
Ava's breath caught. "Alexander—"
"I know I'm not the man you think I am," he interrupted, his voice low. "But I can't change that. All I can do is protect you, even if it costs me everything."