MIA
Jade's apartment was on the seventh floor.
Mia took the stairs because waiting for the elevator felt impossible. Her legs burned. Her lungs screamed. She didn't care.
The text message kept flashing in her mind: Someone stood outside Jade's building for over an hour.
She reached the seventh floor gasping. Knocked on Jade's door hard.
"Jade! It's me!"
Silence.
"Jade, open up!"
The door cracked open. Chain still attached. Jade's eye appeared in the gap. Red. Swollen. She'd been crying.
"Mia?" Her voice shook. "What are you—it's two in the morning—"
"Let me in. Please."
The chain rattled. The door opened.
Jade stood in pajamas, phone clutched in one hand, kitchen knife in the other.
"What happened?" Mia asked.
"You first." Jade's eyes were wild. "Because I just watched the news about Cora. Then got a text from you telling me to climb down my fire escape. Then saw you drive away with—" She stopped. Stared. "Is that blood on your coat?"
Mia looked down. Small spots. Dark. She hadn't noticed.
"It's not mine," she said.
"That doesn't make me feel better!" Jade pulled her inside. Locked the door. All three locks. "Mia, what is happening? The news said the Ghost killed Cora. The actual Ghost. And the police want to question you. And—" Her voice cracked. "There was a man outside my building tonight."
"I know."
"How do you know?"
"Because my husband told me."
Jade stared at her. "Your dying husband who can't leave his wheelchair told you someone was watching my apartment?"
"He's not dying. He's never been dying." The words came out flat. Exhausted. "The wheelchair. The medication. All of it was fake. He's been lying for five years."
"What?"
"And he's the Ghost."
Jade's mouth opened. Closed. Opened again. No sound came out.
"I know how it sounds," Mia continued. "I know it's insane. But I saw him tonight. Walking. Standing. Completely healthy. And he told me—" She stopped. Too many truths fighting to get out. "He told me everything."
Jade set down the knife slowly. "Okay. Okay. I'm going to make coffee. Strong coffee. Because we're going to sit down and you're going to explain why your fake-dying husband is secretly a crime lord."
"Jade—"
"Coffee first. Breakdown after."
They moved to the kitchen. Jade's hands shook as she filled the coffee maker. Mia sat at the small table by the window.
The same window she'd climbed out of three hours ago.
"The man outside," Mia said quietly. "What did he look like?"
"Tall. Gray coat. Stood across the street for—I don't know. Forever. Just standing there. Looking up." Jade's voice shook. "I called the police. They said they'd send someone. But before they arrived, he just—left. Walked away like he'd seen enough."
"Did he have his phone out?"
"I think so. Why?"
"He was taking pictures. Of you. Your building. Your routine." Mia's hands curled into fists. "Elias says his name is Marco Salvatici. He's a cleaner."
"What's a cleaner?"
"Someone who makes people disappear."
The coffee maker beeped. Neither of them moved.
"Mia," Jade said slowly. "Are we in danger?"
"Yes."
"Because of your marriage?"
"Because of everything." Mia looked at her best friend. The only person who'd stayed through five years of whispers and rumors and Cora's cruelty. "I'm sorry. I never meant to drag you into this."
"Into what exactly?"
"A war." Mia's voice broke. "Between my husband and a man named Victor Langton. They've been destroying each other for years. And now Victor thinks—" She stopped. "He thinks Elias cares about me. Which makes me leverage. And you're my best friend, so—"
"So I'm leverage too," Jade finished. She poured two cups of coffee with shaking hands. Sat down across from Mia. "Okay. Okay. So what do we do?"
"Elias has guards on your building now. Two downstairs. One on the roof. You're safe."
"For how long?"
"I don't know."
They sat in silence. Drinking coffee that tasted like ash.
"Can I ask you something?" Jade said finally.
"Yes."
"Are you leaving him?"
The question hung in the air.
Mia opened her mouth. Closed it. "I don't know."
"He lied to you for five years."
"Yes."
"Watched you. Controlled you. Trapped you in a contract."
"Yes."
"But he also protected you." Jade's voice was gentle. "From things you didn't know existed. From people who wanted to hurt you."
"That doesn't make it okay."
"I know." Jade reached across the table. Took Mia's hand. "But it makes it complicated. And I know you. When things get complicated, you don't run. You think. You plan. You decide."
"What if I decide wrong?"
"Then we deal with it together." Jade squeezed her hand. "Like always. But Mia—" Her eyes were serious. "If you stay with him, this becomes your life. The danger. The lies. The war. All of it. Forever."
"I know."
"And if you leave?"
"He says Victor will find me in three days."
Jade was quiet for a long moment. Then: "Your husband sounds like a control freak."
"He is."
"But he got me off that fire escape tonight. Before that man could—" She stopped. Swallowed hard. "He saved my life, didn't he?"
"Yes."
"Then I owe him. We both do." Jade stood up. "Which is why I'm not going to tell you what to do. Because this is your choice, Mia. Your life. Your future." She paused at the doorway. "But whatever you decide—run or stay—I'm with you. Okay?"
Mia's eyes burned. "Okay."
"Now get out of here. Go back to your crime lord husband. Figure out what happens next." Jade managed a weak smile. "And text me every hour so I know you're alive."
"I will."
Mia stood. Hugged her friend tight. Jade held on like she was afraid to let go.
"Be careful," Jade whispered.
"You too."
Mia left. Took the stairs again. The building felt different now. Every shadow looked like a threat. Every sound like danger.
She made it to her car. Drove back toward the estate. The city was dark. Empty. Three in the morning and the streets belonged to ghosts.
Her phone buzzed. Text from Elias: Are you safe?
She typed back: Yes. Jade's okay. Coming back now.
Three dots appeared. Disappeared. Appeared again.
Good. We need to talk. About the wedding night. About everything.
Mia stared at the message.
The wedding night. When he'd sat in her room for three hours. When she'd cried and he'd stayed.
When she'd thought he was medicated and confused.
But he wasn't medicated. Wasn't confused.
He was just—there. Choosing to be there.
Why? she typed.
The response came immediately: Because I didn't know how to leave.
Mia pulled over. Sat in her car on an empty street. Stared at those words.
I didn't know how to leave.
Five years of lies. Five years of performance. Five years of distance.
But that first night—that one night—had been real.
Her phone rang. Elias.
She answered. "Hello?"
"Where are you?" His voice was tight. Worried.
"Maple Street. Near the park. I pulled over to—"
"Get out of there. Now."
"What? Why?"
"Because I'm looking at Jade's security feed from tonight. The man in the gray coat. Marco." His voice went hard. "He didn't just watch her building, Mia. He put a tracker on your car."
Her blood ran cold. "What?"
"Check under your rear bumper. Small black box. Magnetic."
Mia got out. Knelt by her car. Felt under the bumper.
There. Small. Cold. Blinking red.
"I found it," she whispered.
"How long have you been stopped?"
"Two minutes. Maybe three."
"That's too long. He knows where you are." Keys jingled on his end. Engine starting. "Stay on the phone. I'm coming to you."
"Elias—"
"Lock your doors. Don't hang up. Don't—"
Headlights appeared behind her.
A car. Gray sedan. Moving slowly down the empty street.
It stopped twenty feet away.
The driver's door opened.
A man stepped out. Tall. Gray coat. Face hidden in shadow.
Marco Salvatici.
He started walking toward her.
Slow. Calm. Like he had all the time in the world.
"Mia?" Elias's voice cracked through the phone. "Mia, talk to me!"
"He's here," she whispered.
"Who?"
"Marco. The man in the gray coat. He's—"
Marco stopped ten feet away. Pulled something from his pocket.
Not a gun.
A phone.
He held it up. Showed her the screen.
A photo. Jade. Asleep in her bed. Taken tonight. Through her window.
Below it: Next time I won't just watch.
"Get in your car," Elias's voice was ice. "Now. Drive. I'm five minutes out."
Mia couldn't move. Couldn't breathe.
Marco smiled. Took another step forward.
"Mrs. Crane," he said. His voice was smooth. Pleasant. "Victor would like a word."