CHAPTER 19 "The Night That Watched Me'
The heavy oak door clicked shut, but the silence didn't last a second. I hadn't even taken two steps into the foyer before the light flicked on, blinding me.
Stephen was standing there, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed. He didn't look angry—he looked like a hawk guarding a nest.
"Ten o'clock sharp," he said, his voice echoing in the hallway. "Wow, Jane. Looks like Zack actually kept his word."
I opened my mouth to answer, but before I could get a syllable out, he was moving. He stepped into my personal space, his eyes narrowed as he began to investigate. He circled me like a detective at a crime scene, looking for anything out of place—a smudge of lipstick, a stray hair, or even a tiny scratch on my arm.
"Stephen, stop it!" I hissed, clutching my roses.
"Just checking the merchandise, Jane," he muttered, reaching out to inspect the silk of my sleeve for any sign of a struggle. "You can't trust these 'Prince' types."
"Stop it, Stephen!" Alex's voice rang out from the top of the stairs. She was leaning over the railing, watching the chaos with an amused smirk. "No wonder Robby doesn't get your hint."
Stephen froze, his hand halfway to checking my other shoulder. He looked up at her, genuinely confused. "What do you mean? What hint? What does Robby have to do with Jane's safety?"
Alex rolled her eyes, stepping down the stairs with a graceful stride. "See? You don't get it, sis. He's so focused on being a bodyguard he misses everything else."
She reached the bottom and gave Stephen a playful shove out of the way, stepping in to give me a quick, supportive squeeze.
"Ignore the human metal detector. So, tell us, Jane... how was the dinner? Give us the real tea."
I felt the blush returning, the warmth of the car ride still humming in my veins. "It was... more than dinner, Alex. It was perfect."
I leaned against the cool banister, a small, private smile playing on my lips. My heart was still thumping with the secret of that quiet moment in the car—the way Zack's heartbeat felt against my ear and the soft warmth of his chin under my lips. That was mine. I wasn't ready to share it with the "committee" just yet.
"It was great," I said, keeping my voice light and steady as I walked toward the kitchen to find a vase for the roses. "He took me to the park first. We got ice cream from a cart under the willows."
"Ice cream?" Stephen asked, following me like a shadow. He looked skeptical. "That's it? He took you to the park to eat sugar on a stick?"
"Then we went to a movie," I added, glancing at Alex. "A horror movie. The Whispering Woods."
Alex gasped, her eyes widening. "No way! You hate horror movies, Jane. You literally cried during the trailer for that animated movie about the haunted house last year."
"I survived," I said, a bit of that new confidence creeping into my tone. "And then we had dinner at his father's hotel, the Grand Regency. It was... intense. Very professional."
"The Grand Regency?" Stephen whistled, finally looking a little impressed. "Okay, so the kid has taste. But did he say anything? Did he try anything?"
I thought about the way Zack had looked at me over the candlelight, and the way he'd promised to be my shield. "He was a perfect gentleman, Stephen. He told me I looked breathtaking and we talked about... the future. About being more than just a 'project' or a 'princess.'"
I left out the part where he fell asleep. I left out the part where I felt like I finally belonged in someone's arms.
"See?" Alex said, nudging Stephen sharply in the ribs. "He treated her like a queen. Now leave her alone so she can go dream about her Prince Charming in peace."
"I'm just saying," Stephen grumbled, though he finally stopped pacing. "I'm keeping the knives sharp. Just in case."
"Where is Mom?" I asked, glancing toward the quiet hallway as I started up the stairs, the weight of the night finally catching up to my limbs.
"She's out for the count," Alex whispered, leaning against the banister. "She fell asleep a while ago.
She seemed pretty tired today—probably all that stress from 'styling' you."
I nodded, a small part of me relieved that I wouldn't have to face her intense questioning until the morning. "Yeah... I'm pretty tired too. Goodnight, guys."
Once I reached the sanctuary of my room, I clicked the lock and let out a long, shaky breath I hadn't realized I was holding. The silence of the room felt different tonight—less like a cage and more like a space to think. I didn't even change out of the lavender dress yet.
I just sank onto the edge of my bed and grabbed my phone.
I hit the speed dial for Heather. She picked up on the second ring.
"Spill! Everything! Now!" Heather's voice exploded through the speaker, making me wince and smile at the same time.
"It was... Heather, it was incredible," I said, my voice dropping to a soft glow.
I spent the next forty minutes pacing my room, recounting every detail. I told her about the sleek car, the "Princess" treatment at the Grand Regency, and the way the horror movie made me jump. When I got to the ride home, my voice slowed down.
"And then, in the car... he had his arm around me. I just... I put my head on his chest, Heather. I could hear his heart beating. It was so fast, but it felt like the safest place in the world."
"Oh my god, Jane!" Heather squealed. "That is literally out of a movie. Did he say anything? Did he kiss you?"
I paused, my thumb tracing the line of my jaw where I could still almost feel the ghost of his skin. The memory of pressing my lips to his chin flashed in my mind—the warmth, the stubble, the way he stayed asleep. It was a tiny, perfect secret that felt too fragile to put into words just yet.
"No," I lied softly, a small smile playing on my lips. "No kiss. But honestly? The way he held me was enough."
THE MORNING
The sunlight streaming through my bedroom window felt too bright, too cheerful for the cold shiver that suddenly raced down my spine. I was still tangled in my sheets, the lingering warmth of a dream about Zack fading, when my phone buzzed on the nightstand.
I reached for it, expecting a "Good morning" text from Heather or maybe even Zack. Instead, it was a message from an unknown number. No text. Just four attachments.
My breath hitched as I tapped the first one.
1. The Park: A long-distance shot of Zack and me walking under the willows, our shadows stretching long across the grass.
2. The Movie: A grainy, low-light photo taken from several rows back in the theater. It showed me leaning into Zack's shoulder, his arm draped protectively around me.
3. The Dinner: A shot through the glass of the Grand Regency. We were sitting at the candlelit table, Zack leaning in, looking at me like I was the only girl in the world.
My heart was hammering against my ribs now, a frantic, sickly rhythm. Someone had been following us all night. They had watched every move, every smile, every private moment. But it was the fourth photo that made the world go silent.
4. The Car: It was taken through the tinted window of the sedan. The flash must have been off, but the streetlamp provided just enough light to see me—leaning up, my eyes closed, pressing my lips against Zack's chin while he slept.
"No," I whispered, my fingers trembling so hard I almost dropped the phone. That moment was supposed to be mine. It was the one thing I hadn't even told Heather.
I went to tap the photo to zoom in, to see if there was any clue who took it, but the screen flickered. A small loading circle spun for half a second, and then—"Message Deleted."
One by one, the photos vanished from the thread until the screen was blank. The unknown number disappeared from my logs as if it had never existed.
I sat there in the silence of my room, the red roses on my desk now looking like a warning instead of a gift. I had to decide. If I told Stephen, the "bodyguard" would lock me in this room and never let me see Zack again. If I told Zack, I'd have to admit I kissed him while he was asleep.
V POV
The scene shifts away from the sunlit terror of Jane's bedroom to a place draped in shadows. The air here is cool, smelling faintly of ozone and expensive electronics.
V sits in a high-backed leather chair, the glow of multiple monitors casting a harsh, blue light over their features. On the main screen, the fourth photo is frozen—the shot of Jane leaning up, her lips grazing Zack's chin in the quiet of the car.
A slow, chilling smile spreads across V's face. They lean forward, the light reflecting off their eyes as they study the expression of peace on Jane's face in the photograph.
"Interesting, Jane," V whispers, the voice smooth and dangerously calm. "You're finally coming out of your shell. You're starting to feel brave."
V's gloved finger hovers over the keyboard. With a few rhythmic taps, they pull up a hidden contact list—a directory of names that Jane would never expect.
"But bravery is such a fragile thing," V murmurs. "Let's see how long you can keep that glow when the world starts looking back at you."
With a final, decisive click of the mouse, V hits 'Send.' The progress bar flashes for a second—10%... 50%... 100%—and the photo, the one secret Jane thought was buried in the night, is launched into the digital void, headed straight for a recipient who could ruin everything.
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