"Fear sharpens you. Love decides what you do with the blade"
After my shower, the steam still clinging to my skin, I slipped into an oversized hoodie because it was warm and soft.
All I could think about was Grey. Grey had been lingering in my mind like a quiet warmth that refused to fade. Every day he carved out a little more space in me, a space I didn't even realize I had left. When he held me on the boardwalk, when he sat by me through nightmares, when he wiped tears from my cheek in the kitchen... those moments were starting to feel like something I wasn't brave enough to name.
Love.
Was this what that felt like?
I wasn't sure.
I had never been given the chance to learn.
My eyes drifted across the room and landed on it.
The locked cabinet.
A tall, narrow structure pressed into the far corner; Victor's "hellhole," as he used to call it whenever he caught me glancing in its direction. He'd say it in that cold, arrogant tone of his, like he knew I would never dare try to open it. And I never could. No matter how many times I tugged at the metal lock, pushed, pulled, banged... it refused to budge.
And the key was destroyed. Burned, broken, thrown away... whatever the cause was, it was still gone.
What could be inside that Victor, of all people, wanted kept away from eyes?
I stepped closer. Through the thin glass pane, I could see stacks of papers, the edges browned with age, tucked beneath some books.
They looked... untouched.
Preserved.
Hidden.
I took a slow breath, stepped back and picked up the small stool. And, with a force I didn't know I had, I slammed it against the glass.
The panel shattered with a sharp, satisfying crack, with its shards scattered across the carpet.
Should've just done that, idiot! I thought as I grabbed a towel from my dresser and swept the glass aside quickly, my hands trembling as I pushed pieces away. Then I bent down and reached in, tugging out the files one by one.
They were dusty, yellowed, brittle.
Victor had kept these for a reason.
A thin newspaper clipping rested on top.
MontWest Global Empire Ends With Speculation Feud
Dated: 2017
My brows knitted. "MontWest?"
I had never heard of it.
I sat on the floor, pulling papers out, flipping through contracts, agreements, termination notices—all signed by Victor Montez and someone else.
And then a photograph slipped out and floated onto my lap.
Two men smiling, shaking hands at a ceremony; drinks in hand, confetti behind them.
Victor Montez.
And the other man—
My heart stuttered.
He looked... like Grey. Older. Taller. Kind eyes.
I turned the photo over.
Victor Montez and Chris West at Montez's anniversary celebration. 25th June, 2016.
Chris West.
Grey's father.
Owner of HavenCore.
They were... friends?
But the newspaper clipping said they had a "speculated feud" that ended MontWest Global Empire. A whole empire destroyed by mistrust.
The subheading made my breath hitch.
Public speculates Chris West suspected Victor Montez of forging documents and illegally managing the empire, resulting in immediate termination of their partnership—and friendship.
Victor forged documents? No surprise there.
Victor, who manipulated everyone his entire life?
The puzzle pieces that had once been scattered began aligning in front of me.
Why did Victor hide this?
Why did he call this cabinet a hellhole?
Why keep every memory of Chris West locked away?
My mind spun.
I grabbed a glass from the kitchen and poured grape juice into it, hoping the sweetness would steady me. I gulped it down, rereading the article under the dim light.
Victor and Grey's father were business partners.
They ended in a feud.
And then Grey's father died in a suspicious explosion, in which Grey said that the explosion came from the back of the car...
Which meant that the public was lied to... manipulated. And only one person could be that influential, and that was Victor.
A chill threaded down my spine.
I stared at the photograph again, fingers shaking.
Victor hated HavenCore, because it was successful. He hated that HavenCore was doing so much better that Montez Empire. HavenCore was a society-helping firm, which meant that it would've been loved by the public. So, he erased the only thing that was stopping him from gaining benefits. Even if it used to be his best friend.
Before I could think any further, the estate went dark.
Every light.
Instantly.
The hum of electricity died, the air conditioner shut off, the entire house fell into a suffocating silence.
Someone cut the grid.
My heart slammed against my ribs.
I stuffed the papers into my hoodie pocket and rushed toward the hallway, only to nearly collide with Grey.
He appeared from the shadows, gun holstered but ready, jaw tense, eyes alert. His entire body was in protective mode before a single word left my mouth.
"Sophie," he said sharply, "go upstairs. Now. Lock the door."
"But—"
"Upstairs." His voice left no room for argument. "Don't come down unless I come for you."
His tone wasn't cold. It was fear disguised as authority.
I swallowed hard and sprinted up the stairs.
My room was pitch black—so dark it felt like the walls had disappeared. I knew I kept a candle somewhere, tucked in my nightstand from nights I couldn't sleep. I moved toward it, hands brushing blindly across the surface of the table.
I opened the drawer.
My fingers fumbled for the candle.
But before I could even grasp it...
The door slammed shut behind me.
Locked.
I froze. It can't be Grey... or Miranda.
My breath hitched in my throat.
And then... A hand.
A pair of hands.
Cold. Powerful. Unforgiving.
Wrapped around my throat from behind.
I couldn't scream; couldn't breathe.
My nails dug into thestranger's arm, my feet kicking against the floor, but the grip only tightened...And the room spun into darkness