WebNovels

Chapter 4 - Chapter 4

The gallery smelled faintly of oil paint and turpentine, a scent that had once felt comforting but now carried a weight of memory. Starling stepped back from her canvas, brush in hand, as if measuring the distance between them not the room, but the years.

"I didn't think I'd see you again," she said, her voice quieter than he remembered, almost a whisper meant only for him.

Elijah swallowed, the words he'd rehearsed for days vanishing under the weight of her gaze. "I… I couldn't stay away," he admitted. "Not after tonight, not after everything."

She studied him, her eyes tracing the familiar lines of his face, the way time had touched him in subtle ways, and for a moment, the years melted. Then came the faint shadow behind her eyes, the caution that had never left.

"You disappeared," she said, and the single word carried a fracture he couldn't mend with promises. "You left without a reason, and I had to—" Her hands tightened on the brush, knuckles pale. "I had to keep going."

He nodded, unable to meet her entirely. "I know. And I hate myself for it. Every day, I've—" He stopped, the words too fragile for the loud, echoing room. "I've thought about you. Wondered if you were okay, if… if you still believed in me."

Starling's lips pressed into a thin line, caught between past hurt and present curiosity. "And now?" she asked softly. "Do I believe in you now?"

Elijah took a cautious step closer. "I don't expect forgiveness. I don't even know if it's possible. I just…" He exhaled, heart hammering. "…I just had to see you. To tell you the truth, finally."

The tension hung thick, broken only by the faint scratching of a brush against canvas as she made a hesitant adjustment. He watched her, memorizing the tilt of her head, the graceful way she moved, even under the weight of anger and suspicion.

"Ivy will come for you," she said suddenly, her voice sharp, snapping the fragile calm. "She always does."

Elijah flinched. The name was a chain he couldn't ignore. "I know. And I can handle her… I can't let her take this from us."

Starling looked at him, incredulous. "Us?"

He met her gaze fully, no hesitation now. "If you'll let me, if you even want me. I've made mistakes, Starling horrible ones but leaving you, avoiding this… it's been worse. And I can't do it again."

For a moment, the room held its breath. Outside, the city's hum pressed against the walls, indifferent to the fragility inside. Starling lowered her brush, letting it rest against the edge of the canvas. Her eyes softened, a flicker of vulnerability breaking through the armor she'd built.

"I don't know if I can trust you again," she admitted. "You hurt me more than I can put into words. And yet…" She paused, a ghost of a smile tugging at her lips. "…I want to."

Elijah felt his chest loosen for the first time in years, though the warning bells of reality sounded in the back of his mind. Ivy would not wait, and the world outside this room was ready to pull them apart again. But for this moment, for this fragile thread between them, he allowed himself hope.

"I'll do whatever it takes," he said quietly. "I'll wait, I'll fight, I'll prove it to you anything. Just… don't shut me out again."

She looked down, brushing a stray lock of hair behind her ear, the tension in her shoulders easing ever so slightly. "I don't want to lose you again," she whispered, the admission both a warning and an invitation.

Elijah reached out, slowly, letting his fingers hover near hers without touching testing, cautious, reverent. "Then don't," he said.

And for the first time in years, in the quiet chaos of the gallery, two hearts that had drifted so far apart began to inch back toward each other, fragile but determined.

The moment shattered, however, by the unmistakable sound of footsteps approaching heavy, familiar, and unforgiving.

Elijah turned sharply.

His father stood in the doorway, coat damp from the rain, eyes wide and unyielding. "I thought… I thought you were dead," he said, his voice low but sharp, cutting through the fragile calm like a blade.

Starling froze mid-step, brush in hand. "What… what do you mean?"

Elijah's jaw tightened. "Dad—"

"I said, I thought you were dead!" Mr. Ashford repeated, his hands tightening on the doorframe. His gaze shifted to Starling, disbelief etched in every line of his face. "After all these years… I never expected—"

Starling's lips parted, a mixture of fear and anger flashing across her features. "I… I'm alive," she said softly, almost uncertainly.

Elijah stepped closer to her instinctively, placing a protective hand near her shoulder. "Dad, this isn't the time—"

"I don't care about timing!" his father snapped, his hands clenching. "You vanished, Elijah! And now now she's here, alive, standing in front of us like it's nothing? Do you have any idea what I went through thinking..... thinking she was gone?"

Starling recoiled slightly, hurt and anger warring in her expression. "You thought I was dead… and never tried to find me?"

Mr. Ashford's eyes softened just enough to betray a flicker of guilt, but the tension in the room didn't ease. Elijah's hands clenched at his sides, torn between protecting Starling and facing his father's fury.

"You don't understand, Starling," Elijah said, his voice strained. "It wasn't like that. I didn't—"

"I don't care what you didn't do," Mr. Ashford interrupted. "All I know is my son comes back into my life, bringing her into my house, and I find out only now that she's… alive?"

Starling's eyes flared with a mixture of disbelief and hurt. "Alive… and yet, I'm supposed to just forgive everything? After years of being assumed gone, of being forgotten?"

Elijah's heart ached at the tension between them. He wanted to erase his father's anger, to shield Starling from it, but some battles couldn't be avoided.

Mr. Ashford's gaze finally fell on Elijah, a storm behind his eyes. "You left her alone all these years. You disappeared when she needed you. And now… now you act like this reunion is a gift?"

Elijah's throat tightened. "It's not about gifts, Dad. It's about making things right. About finally being honest. About Starling not you."

Starling stepped forward, courage flickering in her eyes. "Then let's stop talking about me as if I'm some ghost from the past. I'm here. I'm real. And I'm not leaving not for anyone."

Mr. Ashford blinked, caught off guard by her defiance, while Elijah felt a rush of pride mingled with dread.

The gallery door opened quietly, and Ivy stepped inside, her expression calm and radiant, like she had just walked out of a magazine shoot. She smiled softly at Elijah, the kind of smile that made people believe she was nothing but grace and charm.

"Elijah! There you are," she said, her voice light and warm. "I was hoping I'd find you here."

Elijah's chest tightened, a mix of relief and unease. He took a cautious step toward her. "Ivy… how did you find out I was here?"

Ivy tilted her head, maintaining her perfect, sweet smile. "I just… had a feeling. You always gravitate toward the places that mean something to you."

"You knew," Elijah pressed, voice sharp now. "You tracked me."

She laughed lightly, innocently. "Tracked? No, I just… wanted to see you. Is that so bad?"

Starling, no longer willing to watch silently, set her brush down decisively. "Enough," she said, stepping between them. "Both of you, infact you all go away. Get out."

Elijah blinked, surprised, but Starling's gaze was steady and commanding. "Now," she said, her voice low but firm.

Ivy's smile faltered just slightly, but she didn't resist. "I… suppose I could leave," she said, still sweet, still poised. "For now."

Mr. Ashford, still fuming, turned on his heel. "I can't believe this…" he muttered, storming out before anyone could respond.

Elijah exhaled, feeling the tension drain slightly. Starling stood close, protective and steady. "That's better," she said softly, her eyes meeting his.

He nodded, letting himself finally relax for now. Outside, the rain continued to tap softly against the gallery windows, indifferent to the storm that had passed inside. And for the first time that night, Elijah allowed himself to hope that maybe, just maybe, they could reclaim the fragile connection they'd fought so hard to protect.

Elijah stepped onto the rain-slick sidewalk, that evening. Ivy followed, her heels clicking softly, her posture flawless, her smile calm—too calm.

"You found me," Elijah said, voice tight. "How did you know I'd be here?"

Ivy tilted her head, eyes bright. "I just… had a feeling. You always go back to places that mean something to you."

Elijah's jaw tightened. "And Starling's office? How did you find that out? I don't remember telling you anything about her."

Ivy's smile flickered briefly, but she quickly masked it. "Starling? I may have—"

"May have what?" Elijah interrupted sharply. "Who told you? Who else knows? Why are you here? Why do you always know everything before I even speak? Who gave you that information?"

Ivy opened her mouth, but he didn't let her finish. "And what were you planning? Were you following me? Watching me? Who else is involved? Why are you pretending like this is innocent? What are you really after, Ivy?"

Her composure began to falter. "Elijah, I—"

"Don't," he cut her off. "I don't want to hear excuses. How did you know? How did you get here? Who helped you? Tell me!"

Ivy's smile wavered. Her calm facade cracked under the relentless barrage of questions, each one sharper than the last, leaving her scrambling.

"Enough!" she finally said, voice forced, trying to reclaim control. "I… I'm leaving. Clearly, this isn't the right time."

She turned and walked away, heels clicking faster now, leaving Elijah standing alone in the rain. His chest heaved, tension slowly draining, but his eyes stayed fixed on her retreating figure.

He hadn't answered a single question. And that was the point.

Elijah stood alone on the rain-slick sidewalk, watching Ivy's figure disappear into the night. The city hummed around him, indifferent to the storm that had just passed, but inside, his thoughts raced faster than the raindrops sliding down the streetlights.

He exhaled slowly, trying to shake the adrenaline and frustration that pulsed through him. Ivy's presence had always been a constant shadow—calculated, charming, impossible to ignore. Tonight, though, she had shown a crack, and he had seen it. That was enough for now.

His thoughts drifted to Starling—the fragile spark he had seen rekindle just yesterday at the gallery. The memory of her soft voice, the way her hands had lingered over the canvas, the cautious warmth in her gaze—it was all too real, too powerful. And yet, he hadn't told Ivy a single word about it. Not a hint. She didn't know he had already seen Starling.

He clenched his fists, feeling the tension in his shoulders. He couldn't let Ivy know anything. She thrived on control, on information, on being one step ahead. And if she ever learned about Starling, about the fragile thread he was trying to protect, it would destroy everything before it had a chance to grow.

For a moment, Elijah allowed himself to imagine tomorrow—walking back into the gallery, standing near Starling without fear, without Ivy lurking over his shoulder. It was a small, fleeting thought, but enough to make his chest tighten with hope.

He ran a hand through his damp hair and exhaled again. The rain had slowed to a gentle drizzle, leaving the streets glistening like glass. For now, Ivy was gone. For now, the fragile connection with Starling remained untouched.

But he knew the reprieve wouldn't last long. Ivy would return, probing, testing, searching. And when she did, Elijah would be ready.

He just had to protect what mattered most—for now, that meant keeping Starling and the truth of their meeting completely, utterly hidden.

Later that night, once the storm had passed, Mr. Ashford sat in his office, staring out at the rain-slicked city. His mind kept returning to Ivy her smile, her calm composure, the way she had appeared so easily in Elijah's life. Something about her didn't sit right.

"Sir?" his assistant's voice broke through his thoughts. "You wanted me to check on her?"

"Yes," Mr. Ashford replied, his tone low, deliberate. "I want to know everything about her.....her background, her connections, her influence. Leave no stone unturned. I don't trust her."

The assistant nodded and left. Hours passed in tense silence, the only sound the tapping of keys and the occasional rustle of papers.

Finally, the assistant walked in, frustration evident. "Sir… there's nothing. Everything is clean. No hidden ties, no suspicious activity, nothing that indicates she's dangerous or deceitful. Legally, publicly… she's spotless."

Mr. Ashford leaned back, his fingers steepled under his chin. "And yet…" His gaze darkened. "I can feel it. There's something beneath that perfection. Keep watching. I don't care what it takes we will find out who she really is, one way or another."

The assistant nodded again, understanding the unspoken order: vigilance above all.

Mr. Ashford's eyes returned to the city lights outside, sharp and unyielding. Something about Ivy didn't sit right, and though there was no proof, he would wait, watch, and act the moment the truth revealed itself.

For now, the picture of perfection remained intact but his instincts told him it was only a matter of time before the mask slipped.

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