Ashley's POV:
Ashley woke before the alarm, a jolt of ice water hitting her veins. She was still sitting bolt upright on the bed, her laptop face down, her back pressed against the wall. The desk chair was still wedged beneath the doorknob.
The room was bathed in the familiar golden light of a Saturday morning, but the warmth felt like a cruel joke. The fear wasn't a memory; it was a physical residue, thick and cold in her lungs.
She stared at the chair, then at the innocent-looking laptop, where the terrible truth was still lurking on a forgotten web page.
Don't panic. The girl who had charmed detention into a group therapy session had to make an appearance. She had to be Ashley—the sunbeam, the chaos magnet, the perfect daughter.
She went through the motions of getting ready: a shower to wash off the cold sweat of fear, jeans and a comfortable top, a brush through her wild hair.
Every move was a calculated effort, a performance for the mirror. She practiced smiling. It looked like a grimace.
She tried again, forcing the muscles. Normal.
When she finally descended the stairs, the scent of cinnamon rolls and fresh coffee was almost enough to fool her. Her parents were at the kitchen island, chatting easily.
Daniel was already there, scrolling through his phone.
"Good morning, sleepyhead!" her mom chirped, pushing a plate of warm rolls toward her. "You missed Roman. He went out for a run early this morning."
"Oh," Ashley said, her voice sounding unnaturally bright. She took a bite of cinnamon roll. The sugar tasted like ashes. "Well, good for him. Guess he's serious."
"Deadly serious," Daniel mumbled, not looking up.
Ashley gripped her mug, fighting the urge to glance at her father, who was reading the paper, oblivious.
Don't react. Don't react.
Roman walked in a moment later, smelling faintly of cold air and sweat. He was wearing a simple gray T-shirt, looking annoyingly, perfectly ordinary.
He scanned the kitchen, his cool gray eyes settling on Ashley immediately.
A slow, possessive smirk curved the corner of his mouth, and he sealed the silent threat with a deliberate, chilling wink.
Ashley's blood ran cold. He knew she was watching him. He knew she was terrified. And he didn't care who saw him look at her.
"Morning, Mrs. Bennett," Roman said smoothly, finally tearing his gaze away to grab a bottle of water from the fridge. "Great neighborhood for a run. I'll make up for the cinnamon rolls later."
Ashley's mom laughed warmly.
Ashley forced her practiced smile to stretch wider, making her cheeks ache. She met his gaze with an outward show of carefree normalcy.
You don't scare me. It was the biggest lie she'd ever told.
Just then, the sharp, authoritative ring of a phone cut through the morning chatter. Roman immediately pulled a burner phone—a thick, cheap black square—from his pocket.
His expression hardened, shedding the mask of the friendly guest. "Excuse me. This is important."
He walked briskly out the back door, his voice immediately dropping to a low, intense murmur that was impossible to overhear.
This is it.
Ashley knew this was her chance. She had to get out, and she had to be credible.
"Mom," Ashley said, standing up quickly. "I completely forgot—I have to get started on the history presentation. I told Mia I'd be over there by nine. We have a massive group project due Monday, and I need to borrow some of her resources."
"Oh, sweetheart, that's fine," her mom said, already distracted. "Do you need a ride?"
"No, I'll take my bike. I need the fresh air," Ashley said, grabbing her keys. The bike is faster. Less waiting around.
She raced upstairs, her heart hammering. She grabbed her backpack, shoved her laptop inside, and added her phone and wallet.
She had to resist the urge to glance at the terrifying webpage again.
She didn't need the whole truth—not yet. She just needed to be safe enough to process the piece she already knew.
When she descended the stairs, Roman was still outside, his back to the house, talking intently into the black phone.
Ashley pulled her helmet on and walked to the garage, feeling his presence like a physical weight on her spine.
She pushed her bike out and mounted it, trying not to look suspicious as she pulled the heavy garage door down behind her.
As the door sealed, cutting off the sounds of her perfect, threatened life, she risked one last glance at the back window.
Roman was no longer on the phone. He was standing there, framed by the kitchen window, watching her.
His arms were crossed over his chest, his expression unreadable, though the smirk was gone, replaced by a deep, dangerous focus.
She didn't wait to see if he would move. She jammed her foot onto the pedal, cycling away from her safe suburban street with reckless speed, knowing that the only thing keeping her alive was the flimsy, family-approved excuse of a group project.
____________________________________________________________________
Author's Note:
Okay, Ashley is officially giving an Oscar-worthy performance! 🎭
Seriously, Roman winked at her. He knows she's terrified, and he's enjoying the chase. Her excuse—"group project"—is the flimsiest lie ever, but he's letting her go.
Why?
Now Ashley is outside with a laptop full of truths.
Prepare yourself! Cuz Chapter-5 will never be the easy one 😱
— Vaanni