The morning sun barely warmed the marble floors of Grace's penthouse, yet the cold in her chest felt like it had settled for good. She sat cross-legged on her velvet sofa, a mug of untouched coffee in her hands, the scent long faded. Her eyes were distant, and her thoughts miles away, still stuck in the woods where secrets clung to candlelight and moonlight wrapped around whispered truths.
Eva sat opposite her, arms folded, concern masked with a teasing smirk. "You're thinking too hard again," she said, watching Grace with sharp eyes.
Grace glanced up, but didn't smile. "Do you ever get the feeling like… you're slipping? Not falling, just, slipping, bit by bit, into something you can't name?"
Eva raised a brow. "Is this about Silas again?"
Grace didn't answer immediately. She leaned back, resting her head on the cushion. "He's… not what I thought he'd be."
Eva narrowed her eyes, the teasing gone. "Not in a good way?"
Grace's fingers tightened around her mug. "In a way that makes me forget how to breathe sometimes."
Eva tilted her head. "That doesn't sound healthy, babe."
"But it doesn't feel wrong either," Grace whispered, mostly to herself.
Eva leaned in. "What are you not telling me?"
Grace smiled faintly, then looked away. "Nothing. Just dreams. I've been having weird dreams lately."
Their conversation wandered, vague and disjointed, as if both were trying to say something without really saying it. There were pauses, glances, silences filled with tension neither of them could name. Something was brewing between them, unspoken, but present.
It was late afternoon when Eva finally left, leaving Grace with her thoughts and a quiet apartment.
That quiet was broken minutes later by a call.
Julian.
The screen lit up with his name, and Grace hesitated before answering. "Hello?"
His voice was sharp, laced with jealousy and accusation. "You went out with him."
Grace sighed. "Julian, I don't owe you explanations."
"I told you to stay away from him," he hissed. "He's not who you think he is."
"And maybe," she replied coolly, "neither are you."
He fell silent, then lowered his voice to a dangerous calm. "You're making a mistake."
"No, Julian. I'm just making a choice."
"You think he cares about you? He's playing you. And I'm not going to stand by and watch it happen."
Grace's tone didn't flinch. "Then don't watch."
Julian hung up. But on the other end of the city, his fury was far from finished.
In his office, wineglass in hand and teeth clenched, Julian paced. He had always been in control, of the narrative, of the game. Grace had always returned to him eventually, like a tether he could count on.
But Silas was different.
And now, that tether was fraying.
He opened a drawer, pulled out a file, thick with dust and secrets.
Silas Vale had skeletons. And Julian was going to make sure every last one of them danced in the light.
The first call he made wasn't to Grace.
It was to someone who owed him a favor. A dangerous favor.
One that would make sure Silas Vale wished he had never met Grace Laurent.