Her heart stopped as the sound of shattering glass echoed through the penthouse, sharp and violent in the pre-dawn stillness. She stood in her locked bedroom, the letter opener still on the floor where she'd dropped it, the envelope of papers, proof of a shady land deal, tucked inside her jacket. Outside her door, Xander's voice was loud, angry, demanding she open up, but the crash from the living room drowned him out. Someone was inside, and it wasn't just Xander. Her mind raced, flashing to the SUV that had chased her, the texts threatening Sofia, and Julian's warning: Get out now. They're coming for you.
She grabbed the letter opener, its weight grounding her, and pressed her ear to the door. Xander's footsteps moved away, toward the living room, his voice cutting through: "Who's there? Show yourself!" Her stomach twisted. Was he in danger, or part of this? His earlier words, We're stuck, Elena had sounded raw, almost human, but Julian's distrust lingered, and the papers in her jacket screamed secrets.
Another sound—a low thud, like something heavy hitting the floor. Elena's breath hitched. She couldn't stay here, trapped like a kid hiding from her dad's creditors years ago. Sofia was out there, missing, her life tied to the midnight deadline at the pier. Elena had married Xander to save her sister, to rebuild what Marcus destroyed. She wouldn't let fear stop her now.
She unlocked the door, easing it open, the letter opener raised. The hallway was dark, the city's lights casting jagged shadows through the penthouse's glass walls. She moved silently, her sneakers soft on the marble. The living room was ahead, where the crash had come from. She heard a scuffle grunts, movement and then Xander's voice, sharp: "Get out, or I call security!"
Elena peered around the corner. The living room was a mess—glass from a shattered window littered the floor, the night air pouring in. Xander stood near the couch, wrestling with a figure in dark clothes, a ski mask hiding their face. The intruder was shorter, wiry, but fast, dodging Xander's grabs. A glint caught her eye there was a knife in the intruder's hand, small but deadly.
Her heart leapt. She wanted to run, but Xander was in trouble, and the papers in her jacket were what they were after. She gripped the letter opener, her mind racing. Her old life had been about charm, not courage, but her mom's strength facing Marcus's lies, holding their family together pushed her forward. She stepped into the room, staying low, and shouted, "Hey! Drop the knife!"
The intruder spun, startled, and Xander used the moment to lunge, tackling him to the floor. The knife skidded across the marble, out of reach. Elena ran to it, kicking it under the couch, her hands shaking. Xander pinned the intruder, his knee on their back, but the figure twisted, slipping free and bolting for the broken window. He vanished into the night, leaving only the sound of wind and glass crunching underfoot.
Xander stood, breathing hard, his t-shirt torn at the shoulder. His eyes locked on Elena, a mix of fury and relief. "What the hell were you thinking?" he snapped, stepping toward her. "You could've been hurt!"
Her pulse raced, his anger hitting her like a wave, but his concern cut deeper. She clutched the letter opener, the papers heavy in her jacket. "I was thinking you needed help," she shot back, her voice sharp. "Or do you always fight masked intruder alone?"
He froze, like her words had thrown him. For a moment, they just stared, the air thick with tension. His chest heaved, and she noticed a cut on his arm, blood trickling down. Her stomach flipped, a mix of worry and something she didn't want to name. He was her husband, but a stranger, and yet here he was, fighting for her or for the penthouse.
"We need to call security," he said, breaking the silence. He grabbed his phone from the couch, but his eyes stayed on her, like he was searching for something. "Why were you up, Elena? And what's with the letter opener?"
Her throat tightened. The burner phone in her pocket, Julian's text, They're coming felt like a secret she couldn't hide. She wanted to tell him about Sofia, the papers, the pier, but her dad's lies had taught her caution. "I heard the glass," she said, dodging. "Thought I'd check it out."
His jaw tightened, like he knew she was holding back. "You're not telling me something," he said, stepping closer. The space between them shrank, and she felt his heat, his intensity. "If you're in trouble, I can help. But you have to trust me."
Her heart ached. His voice was low, almost pleading, and his eyes held hers, raw and searching. She remembered her mom trusting Marcus, believing his promises until it broke her. Could she trust Xander, or was he another lie? The papers, Sofia's photo, Julian's care, they all pulled her away. "I don't know you," she said, her voice barely a whisper. "How can I trust you?"
His face fell, just for a second, and she saw hurt, quickly masked. "Fair enough," he said, turning away. "But we're married, Elena. Whatever's going on, it's our problem now."
The word married stung, a reminder of the deal she'd made to save Sofia. Before she could answer, her burner phone buzzed again, loud in the quiet. Xander's eyes snapped to her pocket, his suspicion back. "Another friend?" he asked, his tone cold now.
Her hand went to her pocket, her mind racing. She needed to check Julian's message, but not with Xander watching. "I'll handle it," she said, backing toward her room. "You deal with security."
"Elena" he started, but she was already moving, slipping into her room and locking the door. Her hands shook as she pulled out the burner. Julian's text read: Penthouse isn't safe. Meet me at the warehouse on 12th. Now. Her stomach dropped. The warehouse? Was he crazy? But Sofia's life was on the line, and Julian was her only lead.
She grabbed a backpack, stuffing the papers inside, along with her phone and some cash. The penthouse, with its sleek lines and city views, was no safer than Marcus's apartment. She'd lived in wealth's shadow before, but it had never felt so suffocating. She needed to move, to find Sofia before the pier deadline. But as she slung the backpack over her shoulder, a new sound stopped her, a low hum, like a car engine, coming from the street below.
She ran to the window, pulling back the curtain. A dark SUV idled outside, the same one that had chased her. Her blood ran cold. They'd followed her here, and now they were waiting. She glanced at the door, where Xander was probably still calling security. Could she slip out before he noticed? Or was he part of this, watching her too?
Her phone buzzed again, not the burner but her regular one. A new text from the unknown number: Time's running out. Bring the papers, or Sofia's next. Attached was a video of Sofia tied to a chair, her eyes wide with fear, a gag in her mouth.
Elena's knees buckled, a sob tearing from her throat. Sofia, her baby sister, was in their hands. The game was over, and she was out of moves.