Zeke said flatly. "The prince of Umbra. Dominique King. He was just experiencing his life without his identity. Experiencing normal life. And you tried to hurt him. You tried to kill him. But you didn’t know that, did you?"

Nicolas laughed, loudly and hysterically. His voice echoed through the room. "Dominique? A prince? Haha! That’s ridiculous! He’s a model! A pretty face! He’s nobody! If he’s a prince, then I’m the king of City A! This is absurd! You’re lying!"

Zeke looked at him with pity. His eyes were cold, distant, like he was looking at a dead man.

Zeke said, his voice flat. "Believe what you want. But you offended many people at once. And now you’re paying for it. All of them have resources. All of them have power. And all of them want to see you fall. Every single one of them."

Nicolas’s laughter faded. His face went pale. "Many people?"

Zeke ticked off on his fingers. "Leonardo Moretti. The royal family of Umbra. And—" he paused, his eyes growing colder, "—the Sinclair family."

Nicolas blinked. "The Sinclair family? But we’re friends! We had a partnership! We—"

Zeke moved faster than Nicolas could react.

His hand shot out and grabbed Nicolas’s jaw, squeezing hard, forcing him to meet his eyes. The gentle facade was gone, replaced by something cold and deadly. His fingers dug into Nicolas’s skin, hard enough to leave bruises.

Zeke said, his voice low and controlled. "No. We are not friends. My friend is Dominique King. And you hurt him. You tried to kill him. You stabbed him in the neck with a piece of glass."

His grip tightened. Nicolas whimpered.

Zeke said, his voice soft and dangerous. "Let me make this clear. You are not just losing your company. You are losing everything. Your money. Your reputation. Your future. And when this is over, you will wish you had never been born. You will regret the day you laid a hand on my friend."

Nicolas’s face was pale, his eyes wide with fear.

Zeke released him and stepped back.

He smoothed his shirt and adjusted his glasses.

Zeke said, his voice cold. "Enjoy your last few days of freedom. They won’t last long."

He walked out of the room, his footsteps echoing down the hallway.

Nicolas sat in the bed, frozen.

⊹₊˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧˚₊⊹

Night

2:30 AM

The bedroom was bathed in pale moonlight, silver light filtering through the curtains, casting long shadows across the walls.

Bella was curled up on her side, her body covered by a thick quilt. Her face was peaceful, her breathing slow and steady. Leo lay beside her, his large hand resting on her waist, his fingers curled protectively around her. His gray eyes were closed, his features relaxed in sleep.

But Bella’s face suddenly contorted.

Her brows furrowed. Her lips parted. A thin sheen of sweat appeared on her forehead, glistening in the dim light. Her breathing quickened, shallow and uneven.

She was having a nightmare.

୨୧

The bamboo forest was dense, the stalks towering above her like silent sentinels. The air was filled with the scent of damp earth and something else, something metallic like old blood.

Bella stood in the middle of the forest, her bare feet cold against the ground. She was wearing an old white dress, torn and stained, the fabric clinging to her thin frame. Her knees were covered in bruises, dark purple and blue, and her back ached with a familiar, searing pain. She knew without looking that there were burn marks there.

Her eyes were red, swollen from crying. Her hands trembled at her sides.

She looked around, her heart pounding. The forest stretched in every direction, endless and dark.

And then she saw it. A dark figure stood at the edge of the forest, partially hidden behind the thick stalks of bamboo. It was tall and faceless, its form shifting like smoke. It watched her with eyes that weren’t there.

Bella’s blood ran cold.

She started running.

Her bare feet slapped against the cold ground, the bamboo stalks whipping past her, cutting her arms, her face. She didn’t stop. She couldn’t stop.

The figure followed.

It moved silently, effortlessly, always just behind her. She could feel its presence like a weight on her back, cold and suffocating.

She ran faster.

And then she collided with someone.

She stumbled back, her breath catching in her throat. She looked up.

Leo stood before her.

His face was cold, his gray eyes hard and ruthless. He looked at her like she was a stranger.

"Where are you going?" His voice was flat, devoid of emotion.

Bella shivered. She shook her head, unable to form words.

His hand shot out and grabbed her wrist, his grip tight, bruising. His eyes burned with anger.

"You’re not allowed," he said.

Bella’s heart pounded. "Leo—"

He pulled her forward, dragging her through the forest. She stumbled after him, her feet scraping against the ground. She looked back, searching for the dark figure, but it was gone.

She was alone with him.

He threw her into a small cottage made of bamboo. The walls were rough, the floor cold. She landed on her knees, gasping.

"Leo, don’t do this," she begged, her voice cracking. "Please. Don’t do this."

He didn’t listen.

He turned and walked away, his footsteps fading into the darkness.

Bella scrambled to her feet, running to the door, but it was locked. She pounded on it, screaming his name.

"Leo! LEO!"

No answer.

She sank to the ground, her back against the cold wall, her tears falling freely.

"Why?" she whispered. "Why did you leave me?"

She was alone.

Again.

୨୧

Bella woke with a sharp gasp, her body jerking upright. Her hand flew to her chest, her heart pounding so hard she could barely breathe. Her forehead was slick with sweat, her nightgown clinging to her skin. Tears streamed down her cheeks, hot and relentless.

Leo woke instantly, his hand reaching for her.

"Bella?" His voice was rough with sleep, but his eyes were already sharp and alert. "What’s wrong?"

She couldn’t speak. Her breath came in ragged gasps, her whole body trembling.

Leo sat up, pulling her into his arms. His hand stroked her hair, his voice low and soothing.

"Shh, I’m here. I’m right here. You’re safe."

She clung to him, burying her face in his chest, her tears soaking into his shirt.

He held her, his arms wrapped around her, his warmth slowly chasing away the cold.

"I’ve got you," he murmured. "I’ve got you."