Sleep refused to come.
Not in fragments. Not in shallow half-dreams. Not even in the exhausted unconsciousness Olena Ermes had mastered over the years. Her body lay still beneath silk sheets the color of pale champagne, but her mind refused to follow. It raced, doubled back on itself, and replayed moments that refused to line up neatly no matter how many times she examined them.
She had stayed awake for nights before. That wasn't new. Entire acquisitions had been negotiated while she sat cross-legged on her bed with a tablet balanced on her knees and a mug of bitter Ethiopian coffee cooling beside her. She had learned early that sleep was optional, an unnecessary thing that could be bypassed if ambition was loud enough.
But tonight, exhaustion was not the problem. Fear was.
She shifted again, twisting the sheets around her legs, staring up at the ceiling lights she had dimmed earlier. The penthouse was silent in the way only expensive places were, insulated from the outside world, sealed tight against unpredictability. Normally, she loved that silence. It made her feel untouchable.
But tonight, it felt like the walls were listening to her thoughts.
Her heart kicked harder when the thought crossed her mind, and she immediately dismissed it as ridiculous. She was tired. That was all. Tired people imagined things. Tired people gave shape to shadows and weight to nothing.
Still, she couldn't ignore the way her skin prickled, as if she were being watched.
She sat up abruptly, breath shallow, and swung her legs over the side of the bed. The cold marble floor bit into her bare feet, grounding her just enough to keep her steady. She pressed her palms against her temples, eyes squeezed shut.
Get a grip on yourself, Olena, she thought to herself.
She had survived far worse than a botched attack in a parking garage. She had clawed her way into boardrooms filled with men who expected her to fold. She had learned how to smile through betrayal, how to bleed quietly, and how to weaponize patience.
Yet none of that prepared her for not knowing.
That was the part eating at her.
The man who saved her.
The missing footage.
The impossible strength.
The uniform.
One of her employees had been there that night.
The realization sat heavy in her chest. She had thought it was Kadyn, but it turned out that it wasn't, and now she was back to square one.
She rose and crossed the bedroom, pushing open the bathroom door and turning the shower handle until steam immediately bloomed against the glass. The room filled with heat, mirrors fogging until the sharp lines of her reflection blurred and disappeared. She stripped out of her silk nightdress and stepped under the spray, tilting her head back as water rushed over her scalp.
Normally, this worked.
Heat grounded her. The ritual of it calmed her nerves, slowed her breathing, and brought her back into her body.
Tonight, it only made her more aware.
Every drop of water sounded too loud. Every shift of air felt deliberate. The echo of the running shower seemed to stretch unnaturally, bouncing off the marble walls until it felt like something else was moving with her.
She wrapped her arms around herself, nails digging lightly into her skin.
Her home felt wrong.
"Haunted" was the word that crept uninvited into her mind, and she scoffed aloud at herself. She did not believe in ghosts. Or demons. Or bedtime horrors conjured by an overactive imagination.
She wasn't even sure she believed in God.
But tonight, with her chest tight and her nerves frayed thin, she whispered a prayer anyway. It was awkward, unpolished, and more plea than faith.
Please. Just keep me safe.
She shut off the water and stood dripping for a moment before wrapping herself in a slate-gray robe. The fabric felt heavy against her skin, comforting in its weight. She moved through the penthouse, switching on lights she normally left off, banishing shadows wherever they dared linger.
Still, the unease remained.
She stopped at the front door, fingers hovering over the handle, then exhaled and opened it.
In that moment, her phone rang.
She flinched violently, heart slamming into her ribs as the sound shattered the silence. Instantly, two armed guards appeared at her sides, tension radiating from them as they scanned the hallway.
"I'm fine," Olena said quickly, forcing calm into her voice. She lifted a hand in dismissal, though her pulse hadn't slowed. "Just startled."
They exchanged a look but stepped back.
The air outside was cold, sharp with the scent of winter creeping into the city. She welcomed it instantly. The chill felt honest. Real. Unlike the suffocating warmth inside.
Her phone rang again.
"Olena Ermes speaking," she said automatically.
Laughter spilled through the speaker, low and unmistakable.
"Come on, babe," Vance said. "Tell your men to open the gates. I'll let it slide this time. They're clearly not properly informed."
Her spine stiffened.
Tonight of all nights.
She didn't want to see him. Didn't want to hear his voice slither into her head. But he held something dangerous now, a secret she had spent her entire life protecting. She had dodged scandals with precision, and she wasn't about to let him be the one to ruin that.
"Hand them the phone," she said coldly.
His laughter deepened.
"Good girl." He gloated.
She relayed the order to the guards, ended the call, and watched as a midnight-blue Maserati Levante roared through the gates and disappeared into her driveway. The absurdity of it nearly made her laugh.
Nearly.
If he thought this meant reconciliation, he was delusional.
She locked every interior door with a press of the remote and made her way to the poolside terrace, settling into a single reclining chair upholstered in charcoal linen. The water shimmered beneath the city lights, fractured reflections dancing across the surface.
Vance emerged moments later, perfectly groomed, wearing a cream turtleneck beneath a tailored black coat. He looked like he belonged on a billboard, not standing uninvited beside her pool.
"I see you've come to gloat, to flaunt your leverage," Olena said lightly.
"And I see you've been busy," he replied.
She smiled, but it didn't reach her eyes.
After dismissing Kadyn earlier that day, she had called Zeph and demanded everything on Vance. Not the polished interviews or curated scandals. The rot beneath. The habits. The addictions.
"Your fans would be heartbroken," she said conversationally, "to learn that their favorite leading man can't get through a week without narcotics or a gambling binge. And the funny thing? This isn't even your past."
His face drained of color instantly.
"And I have proof," she added.
Silence stretched.
"I believe your car is parked in the wrong place," Olena said. "Tell your driver you won't be staying anymore. Goodbye, Vance."
She turned and walked back inside, leaving him frozen beside the pool.
For the first time that night, she felt a sense of control return.
***
Across the city, Kadyn spent the day muttering curses under his breath.
All of them were directed at one woman.
His boss.
Why did she have to be so perceptive?
He was grateful the hallway camera had malfunctioned too. Grateful no one had noticed in time. But it didn't erase the gnawing questions circling his mind.
Who was that man?
And why did the urge to protect Olena Ermes feel less like a choice and more like instinct?
He watched her leave work early, anxiety written plainly across her posture. She glanced over her shoulder more than once, fear leaking through the cracks of her composure. It twisted something deep in his chest.
He stayed until her car disappeared into traffic.
Protect her.
The thought terrified him.
Later, alone in the security room, he reached for his mug of Colombian coffee.
The cup slid toward him.
It was floating midair.
He froze. Then he caught it sharply.
His breath hitched violently as he looked around, heart pounding so hard it hurt. No one else was there. The other guards had conveniently avoided him all through the shift.
He set the cup down with shaking hands.
This wasn't normal. It wasn't something a doctor could fix.
He needed help. Someone who understood. But he was alone.
And for the first time in his life, Kadyn felt the sharp, aching certainty that something vital was missing from him.
Something ancient. Something that had awakened. Something he wasn't ready to face.