2025-10-08 20:02:36The storm had passed, but the city still smelled like rain, wet asphalt and something metallic.
The night replayed in flashes. Chris’s voice, the calm defiance. That smile at the end, she sat up, rubbing her temples. “What the hell did I just drag myself into…”
Her phone buzzed, three missed calls from her father, one from her assistant, and a single unread text.
Chris: Breakfast? 9AM. I’ll drive.
Her brows shot up. “Drive?” she muttered. “He thinks he’s my chauffeur now?”
Still… curiosity edged her irritation. Who was this man who could sit in a room full of billionaires, take insults like a professional, and leave everyone speechless?
She slid out of bed, wrapping a robe around her. “He said he invests in people… right. Probably sells fake stock tips on YouTube.” but the more she tried to convince herself, the less she believed it.
[9:03 AM – Outside her building]
Chris leaned against a dark sedan, casual, composed, wearing a charcoal jacket that didn’t look designer but somehow fit better than luxury. He smiled when she stepped out. “Morning. You’re late.”
She froze. “Excuse me?”
“You told me that last night,” he said, opening the door for her. “Returning the favor.”
She stared at him for a moment, half-amused, half-annoyed. “You’ve got some nerve.”
“Comes with the job.”
She got in anyway. “And what job is that, exactly?”
He didn’t answer immediately, just started the engine, pulling smoothly into traffic. “Let’s call it problem solving.”
“That’s not an answer.”
“It wasn’t meant to be.”
She turned toward him, studying his face, Calm, unreadable. Not a single twitch of arrogance or guilt.
“Do you always talk in riddles?” she asked.
“Only when people ask dangerous questions before coffee.”
She rolled her eyes but smiled despite herself. “Fine. Where are we going?”
“Somewhere with good omelets and bad service.”
“Charming.”
They drove in silence for a few moments. The city blurred by, glass towers, billboards, morning rush.
Then she said quietly, “You shouldn’t have done that last night.”
“Which part?”
“The part where you almost declared war on my family.”
Chris smirked faintly. “They started it.”
“They were testing you.”
“And they failed.”
Her lips parted, but no words came out. Something about his confidence unnerved her, not arrogance, authority, Like someone who never had to prove himself.
The car slid into a quiet street. Rain still dripped from the trees, glinting in the late morning light, Deborah’s phone buzzed on the dashboard. Her father’s name flashed across the screen. Chris glanced at it once, then back to the road. “You should take that.”
She hesitated. “He’s probably just angry about last night.”
“Probably,” Chris said, tone unreadable.
She sighed and answered. “Morning, Dad.”
Her father’s voice came low and sharp. “Deborah. Where are you?”
“Having breakfast. Why?”
“With him?”
Her chest tightened. “How do you even”
“Listen to me carefully,” he interrupted. “Stay away from that man.”
“Excuse me?”
“You don’t know who he is.”
She frowned, glancing at Chris, who looked perfectly calm, one hand on the wheel. “He’s”
“He’s dangerous, Deborah. The name Alphonso, it’s not what you think. That man isn’t poor. He’s… someone we don’t cross.”
Her pulse spiked. “You mean he’s connected?”
A pause, then, “More than connected. The kind of man who hides behind other people’s names. No one really knows how deep his reach goes. If he’s near you, it’s for a reason.” She looked at Chris again. He felt it, her stare, but didn’t turn, just a small, knowing smile at the corner of his mouth.
“Dad,” she whispered, “what are you saying?”
“I’m saying get out of that car, now” The line went dead.
The air seemed to thicken. The quiet hum of the engine was suddenly too loud. Chris spoke softly. “Everything alright?”
She swallowed hard. “My father thinks you’re dangerous.”
He chuckled once, low. “Fathers tend to think that about men they can’t control.”
Her hand hovered near the door handle. “Should I be worried?” He finally looked at her, steady, calm, almost amused, “Not yet.”
The car slowed to a stop outside a discreet café tucked between glass towers. The sign above the door was small, elegant, The Ledger.
Deborah raised a brow. “This doesn’t look like your typical breakfast spot.”
Chris shrugged, stepping out. “That’s why it’s good.”
Inside, the place smelled of espresso and quiet money, Not flashy, refined, The kind of café where deals worth millions were whispered over croissants. A waiter spotted them and froze mid-step. For a split second, his professional smile faltered. Then he straightened fast.
“Good morning, sir,” he said quickly too quickly. “Your usual table?”
Deborah blinked. “Usual?”
Chris gave a casual nod. “That’ll do.”
The waiter led them to a secluded booth near a tall window overlooking the street. Other patrons, sharply dressed, the kind who never looked surprised by wealth gave discreet glances their way.
When they sat, Deborah leaned forward. “Your usual table?” she echoed.
Chris smirked. “They must be confusing me with someone else.”
“Really? Because he looked like he was about to salute you.”
“Maybe I tip well.”
She didn’t buy it. “Chris, be honest. Who are you?”
He met her gaze without flinching. “The man you begged to play your fake husband, remember?”
She sighed, rubbing her forehead. “Don’t remind me.”
The waiter returned, overly polite now. “Would you like the chef’s special, Mr. Alphonso? It’s your preferred preparation.”
Deborah froze. “Preferred?”
The waiter’s eyes widened slightly, too late. He realized he’d said too much. “Ah, my apologies, sir, I must have” Chris waved him off lightly. “It’s fine. Bring it.”
The waiter vanished, Deborah leaned in again, voice low. “You come here often enough for them to know your preferred preparation?”
Chris stirred his coffee. “I like consistency.”
“That’s not consistency, that’s familiarity.”
He smiled faintly. “You’re very observant today.”
“Because I’m trying to figure out whether I’m having breakfast with a con artist or a king.”
He looked up, the faintest glimmer in his eyes. “Why not both?” She stared, at a loss for words.
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Chapter 9 – The Silence After
The world was gray when Deborah opened her eyes. The storm had passed, leaving behind the heavy silence that follows destruction. The cabin smelled of wet ash and old wood.Every sound, the drip from the eaves, the creak of the boards beneath her, felt amplified in the stillness, she sat up slowly. Her neck ached, the blanket clung damply to her shoulders. Across the room, Chris was still by the window, standing exactly where she’d last seen him. Motionless.A silhouette cut against the pale light leaking through the cracks in the shutters. “Did you even sleep?” she asked.He didn’t turn. “No.”“Did they come back?”“No.” A pause. “But they didn’t leave either.”Her heart gave a small, uneasy lurch. “What does that mean?”He finally looked at her. His eyes were rimmed with fatigue but alert, too alert for someone who’d spent the night standing guard. “Means they were close enough to make us believe we were alone.”Deborah stood, wrapping the blanket tighter around herself. The air was
Chapter 8 – Into the Rain
Rain slammed against the windshield like a thousand tiny fists, the wipers thrashed, useless against the downpour. The road had long since turned to a ribbon of blurred light and black asphalt.Deborah’s fingers dug into the dashboard as Chris fought to keep the car straight. “Can’t see a damn thing,” he muttered, squinting through the streaks.“Just drive!” she shot back, breath sharp with adrenaline. Her pulse still hadn’t slowed since the gunfire. The diner’s neon lights were already swallowed by the storm behind them.A curve appeared too late. The car skidded, tires screaming, fishtailed, and stopped inches from a ditch. Steam rose from the hood. They both sat frozen, the world reduced to the hiss of rain and the ticking of the cooling engine.Then, another sound, a distant hum, Headlights, faint and flickering, far down the road. Deborah’s voice was barely audible. “They’re still coming.”Chris turned off the lights, killed the engine. “Out,” he said simply. “Now.”The air hit t
Chapter 7 – The Diner
The storm had settled into a steady drizzle by the time they left the highway. A neon sign buzzed weakly ahead, half the letters flickering out so that DINER read like D—ER. Chris slowed, glancing at Deborah from the corner of his eye.She hadn’t said a word since the men with the falcon crest. The silence between them felt heavier than the rain.The parking lot was almost empty, two cars, both dark, both slick with rain, the place looked harmless enough. A row of booths visible through steamed-over glass, a waitress wiping the counter, the hum of a fridge motor cutting through the quiet.Chris killed the engine. “We’ll rest here,” he said.Deborah opened her door before he could add anything. “I’ll take a coffee,” she muttered, stepping out into the wet air. Her heels clicked against the asphalt, echoing across the empty lot. She didn’t look back.Inside, the diner smelled of burnt coffee and bleach. The waitress, gray hair piled in a bun, gave them a polite nod. “Kitchen’s closing i
Chapter 6B -- Collision Course
The car rolled forward through the rain, the city lights stretching ahead like a line of ghosts. In the mirror, nothing followed, but Deborah couldn’t shake the feeling that the game hadn’t stopped. It had only changed shape.Rain streaked across the windshield in long, liquid ribbons. Deborah’s breath fogged the glass as the world outside bled into motionless gray. Chris’s unfinished sentence hung in the air, His voice was quiet but ti…, then swallowed by the hum of idling engines.She blinked, trying to focus, but the adrenaline still thundered in her veins. Two black SUVs sat at crooked angles on the wet road behind them, their high beams slicing through the mist. Shadows shifted inside, three, maybe four figures stepping out.Chris’s hand was already on the door handle. “Stay here,” he said, voice low, almost mechanical.“Like hell I will,” she snapped, fumbling with her own belt. Her pulse tripped over itself. She barely registered the slam of his door before she was outside, ra
Chapter 6A – Collision Course
Rain turned the city into streaks of silver and noise. Deborah’s windshield wipers could barely keep up, the headlights behind her grew larger, whiter, closing fast. “Not again,” she whispered.Her tires hissed as she swerved across lanes. The car behind mirrored every move. Its lights flickered once, almost like a signal. She hit the gas, heart pounding. The steering wheel trembled beneath her hands.Then, another flash. To her right, a second car appeared. Black, unmarked, gliding into position like it had been waiting for her.“This isn’t happening,” she muttered.She took the next turn hard. The tires screamed. The sedan fishtailed, nearly clipping the median before she corrected. The mirror filled with white light, two vehicles closing in.Her phone vibrated on the passenger seat. She snatched it up without looking at the screen. “Who are you?” she shouted. “What do you want from me?”A man’s voice came through, calm, unhurried. “Pull over, Deborah. You’re making this harder than
Chapter 5 – Shadows in the Rearview
Rain slicked the road, turning the city into a blur of neon and reflection. Deborah’s hands clenched the steering wheel so hard her knuckles whitened.Her phone still glowed on the seat beside her, Chris’s last message: Games end, This doesn’t.She hit delete, It didn’t help, she checked the mirror, nothing but wet asphalt and a trail of headlights behind her.“Breathe,” she whispered to herself. “You’re not paranoid. You’re just careful.” but then, one car stayed exactly three lengths behind, Every turn. Every light. Every lane change.Her pulse kicked up. “No,” she murmured. “Coincidence.”She accelerated, cutting across traffic. The car behind her did the same. Her phone buzzed again.Unknown: You’re driving too fast. Slow down.Deborah’s blood went cold. She dropped the phone. “What”The message pinged again.Unknown: Left lane. Now.A black SUV appeared suddenly beside her, sleek, tinted, same as Chris’s, but not his plate. Her mind raced. Is this him? Or someone else entirely?T
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