They didn't speak on the way back.
Not at the airport, not on the plane, not even during the drive home, when the city lights slid past the windows in long, blurred streaks. The silence between them wasn't empty—it was heavy, stretched tight, filled with everything that had been said and everything that hadn't.
Elena sat still the entire time, her gaze fixed on the glass, though she couldn't have said what she was looking at. Her thoughts kept circling the same place, the same face, the same message.
Victoria.
We need to talk about V.
She could still hear Adrian's voice from the night before—calm, controlled, unshaken.
You'll forget everything that doesn't matter.
Her fingers curled slightly in her lap.
It mattered.
More than anything.
When the car finally stopped in front of the house, she didn't wait. She opened the door herself and stepped out before the driver could react, walking straight inside without looking back.
She didn't slow down until she reached the bedroom.
Then she closed the door.
Locked it.
For a moment she just stood there, her hand resting against the wood, her breath uneven, as if the act itself might keep everything else out.
It didn't.
The room looked exactly the same.
That was the problem.
Nothing had changed.
The same bed, the same soft lighting, the same quiet, controlled space that had once felt like comfort and now felt like something else entirely.
Elena moved through it without turning on the lights, letting the darkness settle around her. She sat on the edge of the bed, then lay back, staring at the ceiling.
Sleep didn't come.
Every time she closed her eyes, she saw Victoria standing in their house, her posture rigid, her voice tight with something that had sounded like fear.
Only you could have done this.
Elena turned onto her side, then back again, pulling the covers over herself as if that might help.
It didn't.
At some point during the night, she heard the front door.
He didn't come upstairs.
She didn't go to him.
Later, she heard the car leave.
And then the house went still again.
—
Morning came too quickly.
The light filtering through the curtains felt harsh, unforgiving, dragging her back into something she hadn't figured out how to face yet.
Elena sat up slowly, her body heavy, her mind even heavier.
For a moment she just listened.
The house was quiet.
But never empty.
It never was.
She dressed without thinking too much about it, choosing something simple, something that didn't require decisions. When she stepped into the hallway, everything looked exactly as it always did—perfectly arranged, perfectly controlled.
Except—
There was someone new.
He stood near the entrance beside Walt, posture straight, expression neutral, but his presence was different. Younger. Broader. Sharper.
Watching.
Of course he was watching.
"Mrs. Virelli," Walt said calmly. "This is Jay. He'll be assisting from now on."
Assisting.
The word almost made her smile.
Jay inclined his head slightly.
"Ma'am."
Elena held his gaze for a moment longer than necessary, taking in the details—the way he positioned himself, the way his attention didn't waver.
Another pair of eyes.
Another layer.
"Of course," she said evenly, and walked past them.
As if this were normal.
As if anything about this was normal.
—
By the afternoon, the walls felt too close.
She wasn't trying to escape anymore—not like before. She knew how that ended. But she needed space, needed something that didn't belong to Adrian.
"I'm meeting Sofia," she said.
Walt nodded immediately.
"The car is ready."
Of course it was.
Jay was already moving toward the door.
Elena didn't look at either of them as she stepped outside.
—
Sofia never chose places like Adrian did.
No polished marble, no quiet exclusivity, no sense of being watched the moment you walked in. Instead, she preferred small restaurants with warm lighting and mismatched chairs, places that felt real in a way Elena had almost forgotten.
The moment Elena saw her, something in her chest loosened.
Sofia looked exactly the same.
Long blonde hair falling loosely over her shoulders, slightly messy in a way that never looked careless. Her eyes were light—bright, expressive, always a little amused, as if she saw the world differently than everyone else. There was something easy about her, something open.
She wore a soft sweater and jeans, nothing calculated, nothing performative.
Seven years.
That's how long they had known each other.
Long before Adrian.Long before all of this.
Sofia stood up the moment Elena approached and pulled her into a hug.
"You look exhausted," she said immediately, pulling back just enough to study her face. "What's going on?"
Elena almost laughed.
Straight to the point.
Always.
Sofia had never been part of Adrian's world. She worked as a programmer, spent most of her time between her apartment and her office, and talked about her two Persian cats like they were actual people. Her life revolved around code, wine, and old 80s shows she insisted were better than anything modern.
She was… normal.
And right now, that felt like the only real thing Elena had.
"I missed you," Elena said quietly.
Sofia's expression softened.
"Yeah," she said, sitting back down. "You definitely don't call someone for lunch like this unless something's wrong."
Her gaze flicked briefly past Elena.
Noticed them.
Of course she did.
Walt near the entrance.
Jay positioned where he could see everything.
Sofia raised an eyebrow slightly.
"You brought security now?"
"I didn't bring anyone," Elena replied.
That was enough.
Sofia leaned forward slightly, her expression sharpening.
"Elena… what's happening?"
Elena hesitated.
For a moment, she didn't know where to start.
Then she looked at Sofia—really looked at her—and realized something simple.
If she didn't say it now, she might never say it at all.
"I need you to listen to me," she said quietly.
Sofia nodded immediately.
"Okay."
Elena leaned in slightly, lowering her voice.
"I think Adrian…"
The words caught for a second.
Then she forced them out.
"I think he might have killed someone."
Sofia went completely still.
"What?"
"There was a woman," Elena continued quickly, before she could lose her nerve. "Victoria. She came to the house. She was scared, Sofia. Not upset—scared."
Her fingers tightened around the edge of the table.
"She said he ruined her career. That only he could have done it."
Sofia's expression changed, something darker settling in.
"And now?"
Elena swallowed.
"Now she's dead."
Silence fell between them.
Not soft.
Not uncertain.
Heavy.
"They're calling it suicide," Elena added, her voice quieter now. "But it doesn't make sense."
Sofia stared at her.
"You think he—"
"I don't know," Elena cut in, shaking her head. "But he didn't deny it. Not really."
That was the worst part.
Not what he said.
What he didn't.
Sofia leaned back slightly, processing, her gaze drifting again toward the men in the room.
Then back to Elena.
"Okay," she said slowly. "Okay… if that's even remotely true—"
"It is," Elena said.
This time, there was no hesitation.
Sofia went quiet.
Then she leaned forward again, lowering her voice to match Elena's.
"Then you can't stay there."
Elena felt something tighten in her chest.
"I know."
The words felt heavier out loud.
More real.
"I have to leave," she said. "I just don't know how."
Her eyes moved, almost without her realizing it.
To the window.
To Jay.
To the way he hadn't looked away once.
"They're watching everything," she added.
Sofia followed her gaze.
"I can see that."
A pause.
Then, quieter—
"Do you think you're in danger?"
Elena didn't answer right away.
Because she didn't know.
And that was the most terrifying part of all.
"I think," she said slowly, "that I don't know who I'm living with anymore."
Sofia reached across the table, taking her hand.
"Then we figure it out," she said firmly. "Together."
Elena nodded.
But her attention drifted again.
To the reflection in the glass.
To the way Jay stood there, still, focused, unreadable.
Watching.
Not missing a single thing.
And suddenly—
a new thought settled in, cold and precise.
What if he wasn't just there to protect her?
What if he was there—
to make sure she never left?