Mira's POV
What do you mean poisoned?
The words came out as a whisper. A scream. Both at once.
Ryder stood there, looking at me with those grey eyes that held too many secrets.
Your grandmother
CRASH.
Water exploded through the ceiling.
One second we were standing in the living room. The next, we were being drenched by a waterfall pouring from above.
What the I jumped back.
Ryder was already moving. Pipe burst. Upstairs. He grabbed his phone, dialing. This is Ryder Kingsley. We have a major water leak in 3B. Get maintenance here now. And check on Mrs. Rodriguez in 4B.
He talked like he owned the place.
Because he did own the place.
I'd almost forgotten.
Water kept pouring. Flooding the living room. Seeping toward my bedroom.
My room! I ran.
Too late.
Water was already pooling on the floor. Soaking into the carpet. My bed was drenched.
All of Grandmother's things. The letters. The photos.
No, no, no
Ryder appeared beside me. Grab what you can. Anything important.
We worked fast. Pulling out drawers. Grabbing papers. Moving everything we could reach.
The building manager appeared a short man with a moustache who looked panicked.
Mr. Kingsley! I'm so sorry! The pipe in 4B just
Is Mrs. Rodriguez okay? Ryder cut him off.
Yes, but her apartment is flooded too
Get her to the empty unit on the second floor. Now. I'll cover any costs.
Yes sir. Right away sir.
The manager ran off.
Ryder turned to me. Pack a bag. You can't sleep here tonight.
Where am I supposed to go?
I have a hotel suite downtown. You can
I'm not going to your hotel!
Then the couch. But your bedroom's destroyed.
He was right. My room was a disaster. Water everywhere. The ceiling was still dripping.
More footsteps. Maintenance crews arrived. Started working on the pipe. The noise was deafening.
Ryder moved through the chaos like he'd done this a hundred times. Directing people. Checking on neighbours. Making calls.
I just stood there, useless.
Mira. His hand on my shoulder. Did you get your important things?
I looked at the bag I'd packed. I think so.
Good. Come on.
He led me back to the living room. The crews were still working. Water everywhere. The couch was the only dry spot left.
This is insane, I said.
It's fixable. Insurance will cover it.
You're very calm about this.
Panicking doesn't help. He grabbed blankets from the closet. Here. We'll camp out tonight. Tomorrow, they'll have it cleaned up.
Both of us? On the couch?
Unless you want the wet bed.
I looked at the couch. It was small. Too small for two people.
But I was exhausted. And soaked. And honestly, I didn't have the energy to argue.
Fine, I muttered.
We changed into dry clothes. The maintenance crews finally left around midnight. The apartment was quiet except for the sound of industrial dryers they'd left running.
Ryder took one end of the couch. I took the other. We sat there with blankets, not looking at each other.
You were going to tell me something, I said finally. About my grandmother. About poison.
Ryder was quiet for a long moment.
Not tonight, he said.
You can't just drop something like that and
Mira. He turned to face me. I will tell you everything. I promise. But not tonight. Not when you're exhausted and stressed and everything's chaos. You deserve to hear it when you can actually process it.
I wanted to argue.
But he was right.
I was too tired.
We sat in silence. Minutes passed.
Thank you, I said quietly.
For what?
For handling all this. The water. The neighbours. I just... froze.
You were in shock. It's normal.
You weren't in shock.
I've had practice with emergencies.
Because you're rich?
Because I grew up fast. When my parents died, everything fell apart. I learned to stay calm when chaos hits. It's the only way to survive.
I looked at him. Really looked.
For the first time, I saw past the billionaire. Past the mysterious roommate. Past all of it.
I saw a nineteen-year-old kid who lost everything and had to become an adult overnight.
How old were you? I asked. When they died?
Nineteen. Three weeks before graduation.
That's... I'm sorry.
It was a long time ago.
Doesn't make it easier.
He smiled. Sad. No. It doesn't.
We fell quiet again.
The dryers hummed. Water dripped somewhere.
I was eight, I said. When my mom left.
Ryder looked at me.
She just... left. One morning. No note. No explanation. My dad came home from work and she was gone. All her stuff was gone. She didn't even say goodbye.
Mira
Everyone said she was selfish. That she abandoned us. But I kept thinking... what did I do wrong? What made her leave?
You didn't do anything wrong.
Then why did she go?
Because people leave for their own reasons. Not because of us.
You sound very sure of that.
I am. His voice was soft. My mom didn't choose to leave. But she left anyway. And I spent years wondering if I could have saved her. If I'd been better. Stronger. Something.
Could you have?
No. The car crash wasn't my fault. Just like your mom leaving wasn't yours.
We looked at each other across the couch.
Two broken people. Held together by loss.
When did you stop blaming yourself? I asked.
I didn't. I just learned to live with it.
That's depressing.
That's honest.
I pulled my blanket tighter. Why are you being nice to me? Really? Not the grandmother promise. Not the five years of watching. The real reason.
Ryder was quiet for so long I thought he wouldn't answer.
Then: Because when I saw you at that gallery, you were talking about how art shows people the beauty they can't see in themselves. And I thought... she sees beauty everywhere except in her own mirror.
My breath caught.
I've watched you for five years, he continued. Watched you bury yourself. Make yourself smaller. Hide your light to make other people comfortable. And I wanted... I just wanted you to see what I see.
Which is?
Someone extraordinary pretending to be ordinary. Someone brave pretending to be scared. Someone beautiful who thinks she's not enough.
Tears burned my eyes.
You don't know me, I whispered.
I know enough.
You know the version I show the world.
And I've seen glimpses of the real you. The you who draws at 2 AM. Who quit her job instead of backing down. Who fights even when she's terrified. That's the you I fell in love with.
You can't love someone you don't know.
Then let me know you. He moved closer. Not touching. Just... closer. That's all I'm asking. Thirty days. Let me see the real Mira. Not the lawyer. Not the perfect daughter. Just you.
What if the real me is a mess?
Then you'll be a beautiful mess.
I laughed. It came out watery. That's cheesy.
It's true.
We sat there. Close enough to touch. Not touching.
Tell me something, I said. Something real. Something you've never told anyone.
Ryder thought for a moment.
I still design buildings, he said quietly. Late at night. When I can't sleep. I design the buildings I would have made if I'd become an architect instead of a businessman.
What kind of buildings?
Homes. Small ones. For people who need them. Places that feel safe. Warm. Real.
Why don't you build them?
Because running a company doesn't leave time for dreams.
That's sad.
That's life.
It doesn't have to be.
He looked at me. What would you do? If you could do anything?
Draw, I said without thinking. I'd open a studio. Teach kids who can't afford art school. Create things that matter instead of reviewing contracts all day.
So do it.
It's not that simple.
Why not?
Because I have bills. Responsibilities. A reputation to rebuild after Marcus
You have a trust fund. Your grandmother left you money.
I blinked. How do you know about that?
She told me. Before she died. It's enough to live on for years. Enough to open that studio.
I can't just
Why not?
Because that's not... people don't just quit their lives and chase dreams.
You already quit your job.
That's different.
Is it?
I didn't have an answer.
We sat in silence. The dryers hummed. Water dripped.
At some point, I fell asleep.
I woke up to warmth.
Ryder's arm was around me. I'd curled into his side. My head on his chest.
His heartbeat steady under my ear.
I should move. Pull away. Create distance.
I didn't.
I stayed there, listening to his heart, feeling safer than I'd felt in years.
My phone buzzed.
I grabbed it, careful not to wake Ryder.
A text from an unknown number:
Want to know who poisoned your grandmother? Meet me tomorrow. 2 PM. The coffee shop on Amsterdam and 73rd. Come alone. Tell Ryder and the deal's off. Tell anyone and you'll never know the truth.
P.S. - The person who poisoned her is someone you trust. Someone close. And they did it because of what she knew about Ryder. About his real reason for wanting you.
Tick tock, Mira. The clock is running. And so is your roommate's patience.
I looked at Ryder. Still sleeping. Peaceful.
Someone poisoned my grandmother.
Someone close to me.
Because of Ryder.
I had twenty-four hours to decide: trust the man whose arms I was sleeping in, or meet a stranger who promised truth.
And somehow, I knew whichever choice I made would change everything.