Chapter 11
Charles disappeared two days later.
Not officially.
His lawyers claimed he was resting.
His house staff said he had not slept in his bed.
His phone went dark.
Elias doubled my security.
Adrian insisted I move into the Thorne residence.
I refused.
“I’m tired of men deciding where I’m safe.”
Elias said, “Then decide.”
I chose my father’s house.
It had cameras now.
Security.
Working locks.
But it also had his handwriting on the kitchen wall.
I needed that more than marble floors.
The first night there, I slept badly.
Every pipe groan sounded like footsteps.
Every shadow became a hand on the latch.
At 2:14 a.m., I woke screaming.
Elias’s security team came running.
So did Adrian from the guest room.
I had allowed him to stay downstairs.
Not near me.
Not yet.
He stood in the hallway, hands visible, voice soft.
“Clara, it’s me.”
I hated that I wanted him closer.
I hated that I still loved him.
Trauma did not erase love neatly.
It tangled it.
I sat on the floor and cried until I was empty.
Adrian stayed ten feet away until I said, “Come here.”
Then he did.
Slowly.
He sat beside me, not touching until I leaned into him.
“I don’t know what we are,” I whispered.
“Alive,” he said.
It was not enough.
But it was true.
The next morning, Charles sent a message.
Not to me.
To Adrian.
Bring her to the old marina if you want the truth about her father.
Adrian showed me immediately.
That mattered.
Elias wanted police involved.
Simone agreed.
I stared at the message.
“He wants control.”
“Yes,” Elias said.
“He wants fear.”
“Yes.”
“Then we bring witnesses.”
May you like
Elias’s mouth curved slightly.
“There she is.”
