Qin Jingze stood before the floor-to-ceiling window, the city spilling beneath him in rivers of gold and rain. From this height, everything felt distant quiet except for the one thing he could not silence.
Ivy.
The ghost of her voice still clung to him, defiant and trembling.
Leave me alone.
As if he ever could.
He poured himself a glass of whiskey, but didn't drink. His fingers curled loosely around the glass, the amber glow flickering like something fragile he had no interest in preserving.
She's running, he thought.
But for how long?
His phone buzzed on the desk. A message from his assistant:
She boarded the bus. The gold card is in her bag.
He didn't answer. He didn't need to.
Ivy always reacted the same way impulsive, fiery, pretending not to care while her hands shook.
A slow smile pulled at the corner of his mouth.
"She's not running from me," he murmured. "She's running from herself."
He slid open the balcony door and stepped into the drizzle. Rain dotted his hair, his clothes, cold against his skin. He didn't feel it. He let the wind drag the city's breath around him, let it strip away the last of the calm he pretended to have.
But Ivy… Ivy was different.
Her stubbornness. Her fire. The way she refused every hand extended to her his included.
He wanted to pull her close.
He wanted to protect her.
He wanted to keep her safe from the world and from herself.
But a darker voice, buried deep in him, whispered a reminder:
You destroy the things you protect the most.
His grip tightened. The glass in his hand shattered with a sharp crack.
Shards bit into his palm. Blood streaked across his fingers, warm against the cold but he didn't flinch.
"No," he breathed. "I won't fail again. Not her."
A plan unfurled in his mind precise, inevitable, unforgiving.
She would see him soon.
And this time, he wouldn't let her walk away.
Because she wasn't just anyone.
She never had been.
A knock sounded at the suite door.
Qin Jingze didn't turn. "Come in."
The door opened softly. Jihao, his head of security, stepped inside. He caught sight of the blood dripping from Jingze's palm and froze.
"Sir your hand"
"It's nothing." His tone cut through the room like glass. Firm. Final.
Jihao swallowed. "Sir… Miss Ivy. The girl from the rooftop two months ago."
A beat.
"She reminds you of… her, doesn't she?"
For the first time, Qin Jingze's breath shiftedbarely, but enough.
His voice was quiet. Controlled. Deadly calm.
"No. She isn't her."
He paused, the city reflected in his rain-darkened eyes.
"But the edge she stands on… the way she runs, the way she pretends she doesn't need anyone… it's the same place. The same darkness."
A muscle in his jaw tightened.
"And I won't watch it happen again."
Jihao lowered his gaze. He'd seen Qin Jingze ruthless. He'd seen him cold.
But soft, razor-thin control was far more dangerous.
"Understood, sir. But your hand"
"I said it's nothing."
Silence pressed between them, interrupted only by the rain hammering the glass.
"Her file," Qin Jingze said suddenly. "Bring it."
Jihao blinked. "Her… entire file?"
"Everything. School records. Medical history. Family details. Pull the camera feeds from the school, the streets, the bus stop. I want every angle. Every movement she made today. On my desk by morning."
Jihao stiffened. "Yes, sir."
He hesitated, voice softer. "Sir… she looked truly frightened today."
Qin Jingze finally looked away from the city.
"She should be."
A whisper of something haunted passed through his eyes.
"Fear keeps people alive. Fear stops them from stepping off rooftops."
His hand tightened on the railing. Blood smeared across the metal.
"It didn't stop her."
Jihao's eyes softened. He knew exactly who her meant. The girl from years ago. The one Qin Jingze couldn't reach in time.
"…Sir," Jihao began gently. "Miss Ivy isn't"
"She's not," Qin Jingze cut in. "And she never will be."
A breath.
"But she's standing in the same darkness. And I won't lose another person I care about to it."
The rain grew heavier, blurring the city lights until they looked like stars drowning.
Jihao bowed. "I'll prepare everything."
He turned toward the door.
"Jihao."
He stopped. "Yes, sir?"
Qin Jingze stepped back into the suite, rain dripping from his hair, blood trailing down his fingers. His eyes were cold, but burning with something relentless.
"Nothing touches her. Not even a shadow."
He moved closer, his voice dropping to a chilling softness.
"And if anyone tries…"
The rest was a whisper that made the air thicken.
"…they won't live long enough to try twice."
Jihao swallowed, nodded, and disappeared through the door.
Left alone, Qin Jingze stood in the center of the suite rain-soaked, bleeding, unshaken.
His vow hung in the air like a storm waiting to break.
Ivy could run.
But she would never outrun him.
Not now.
Not ever.
Zoey lying on her front stomach scrolling on her phone and say who do she think she is taking my spotlight!
She dialed a number, lifting the phone to her ear as she strode across the courtyard like she owned every wet inch of it.
"Heyyy, Liam," she purred when the call connected.
On the other end: a low chuckle. "What trouble are you starting now?"
Zoey smiled, rain sliding down her lashes like glittering tears someone might actually believe. "Just a little favor. You still sit behind Ivy in homeroom, right?"
A pause. "The quiet girl?"
"Mhm." Zoey twirled a strand of damp blonde hair around her finger. "I want you to… pay attention. Anything weird? Anything she's hiding? Tell me."
Liam sounded confused. "Why? She's nobody."
Zoey's eyes narrowed. "Not anymore."
Before he could ask more, she hung up.
Then she opened her social media.
Posted Public
Anyone else notice how some girls pretend to be shy
just to get attention?
Pathetic KnowYourPlace
Within seconds, notifications exploded.
Likes. Comments. Whispering fire.
Zoey didn't mention Ivy's name.
She didn't need to.
The Next Morning .Sunlight spilled weakly through the curtains, soft and gold against the walls.
Ivy didn't move. Her blanket was pulled up to her chin, her face half-buried in the pillow. The alarm on her phone had been ringing for ten full minutes a steady, relentless buzz that blended with her dreams.
The door creaked open.
Her step mother voice came in first, warm but firm. "Come on, sweetheart, you'll be late for school."
A moment later, the blanket vanished — yanked clean off her.
Ivy groaned, curling up. "Four more hours," she mumbled with a yawn, her voice muffled by the pillow.
Her step mother crossed her arms, shaking her head with mock exasperation. "Four more hours? You wish. Your brothers are all dressed and downstairs eating breakfast. You're the only one still in bed."
Ivy cracked one eye open, squinting against the light. "Lucky them," she muttered.
"Don't start," her step mother warned, though her tone softened. "Up. Now."
With a heavy sigh that sounded far too dramatic for the early hour, Ivy finally sat up. Her hair stuck out in every direction, and she looked about as awake as a ghost.
Her aunt rolled her eyes, unable to hide a small smile. "Honestly, you look like you fought a thunderstorm."
Ivy yawned again, stretching her arms above her head and accidentally hitting the alarm, which blared once more. She flopped back against the pillow with a groan. She forced herself to keep her eyes open and walked to the bathroom and brush her teeth and hair go downstairs
Ivy descended the stairs slowly, each step feeling heavier than the last. The cozy smell of scrambled eggs and toast filled the kitchen, but the warmth in the air felt like something she wasn't allowed to touch.
Her three younger brothers were already seated, laughing at some inside joke. Their plates were piled high. Her stepmother stood near the stove, flipping another batch of eggs.
Her uncle sat at the head of the table—the place Ivy's mother once occupied before everything fell apart. He didn't look up when Ivy entered.
He rarely did.
Ivy slipped into the chair at the far end, moving quietly, as if her presence might shatter the air. In front of her, a single piece of toast waited no eggs, no fruit. Nothing like her brothers' plates.
Just toast.
Her stepmother noticed her staring. "Eat before it gets cold," she said with forced cheerfulness.
Ivy nodded and tore off a corner silently. The bread tasted like cardboard today. Always did.
Her uncle finally looked at her not with care, not with concern, but with irritation.
"You're late again," he said flatly. "If you miss the bus, you walk. I'm not wasting gas on" He stopped, jaw tightening. "Just eat. And don't cause trouble today."
Her brothers snickered under their breath.
Ivy kept her head down. Words pressed against her throat, but she swallowed them whole. Arguing never helped. It never changed the way they looked at her as if she were a burden they hadn't asked for.
A reminder of the mother they lost.
She took another small bite, ignoring the tightness in her chest.
Her stepmother placed a hand on Ivy's shoulder. "Did you sleep well?" she asked softly.
Before Ivy could answer, her uncle scoffed. "Of course she did. She doesn't do anything to lose sleep."
Ivy's fingers clenched around her toast, knuckles white.
That wasn't true.
She hadn't slept.
Not since the rooftop.
Not since the fall she almost didn't survive.
She wasn't hungry anymore.
Across from her, her middle brother tossed his crust to the floor. "Oops," he said, grinning. "Ivy, pick it up."
Her stepmother sighed. "Stop that, Lucas. Ivy, honey, leave it. I'll"
"It's fine," Ivy whispered, already bending down, because she knew how this ended if she didn't.
Her uncle took a loud sip of coffee. "At least she's useful for something."
Her stomach twisted.
She wished she were back on that rooftop for just a moment where the wind had drowned out all the voices telling her she didn't belong.
She didn't wait to finish her toast. She stood up, grabbed her bag, and moved toward the door.
Her stepmother called after her, "Do you want an umbrella? It might rain again."
Ivy paused. A flash of memory Qin Jingze in the storm, coat soaked, eyes unwaveringflickered in her mind.
"No," she said quietly. "I'll be fine."
She stepped outside.
The door clicked shut behind her,she pull her hoode up and walked to school