Jane's POV
Silence stretched after Allen's words, thick enough to choke on. My mind couldn't hold all the pieces at once. Betrayal, humiliation, shock; they all crashed over each other like waves fighting for space.
I wrapped my arms around myself because it was the only thing keeping me upright.
"I just need… a minute," I whispered.
Allen didn't touch me, didn't step closer. He only nodded, hands slipping into his pockets like he understood that if he moved too fast, I would break.
Celine guided me to one of the couches. I sank into it, feeling the cushions swallow me whole. The room was too clean, too polished, too far away from the chaos inside me.
Celine crouched in front of me. "Breathe," she murmured. "Just breathe, Jane."
My breaths came uneven, like my lungs weren't sure they wanted to keep doing their job.
"He did this to me," I said, barely hearing my own voice. "The man I married."
"Men like him don't love, Jane," Celine replied quietly. "They possess. And when they lose control of what they think they own… they destroy it."
Her words made sense. They shouldn't have made sense, but they did.
Allen finally spoke again, his tone steady but gentler than before. "I'm not asking you to believe everything at once. I'm only asking you to stay where it's safe long enough to hear the full truth."
The word safe stung. I didn't feel safe anywhere. Not in this suite, not in this city, not even inside my own skin.
I lifted my head. "Why tell me now? Why today?"
He held my gaze, and for the first time, I saw something in his eyes that wasn't power or control. It was regret. "Because I found more than I expected this morning. Evidence. Messages. Payments. And your ex-husband isn't acting alone. Someone else is still pulling strings behind him. Someone who gains from both of our destruction."
My pulse stumbled. "Someone else?"
"Yes," he said. "And until I confirm who it is, you're a target. Keeping you in this suite allows me to make sure no one reaches you."
I hated that the logic was sound. I hated even more that a part of me felt relief that someone was finally taking this seriously.
"I want proof," I said.
"You'll get it," he replied. "But not tonight. You need rest. You haven't had a moment to process since everything began."
"I don't need rest," I snapped, too quickly. "I need answers."
He studied my face for a beat. "Your body and your mind are not on the same page right now. If I give you everything at once, it will crush you."
I hated that he was right. My head was already splitting under the weight of just one truth.
Celine squeezed my hand. "You don't have to decide anything tonight. Eat, shower, sleep. Tomorrow, you face the next fight."
Fight. I was tired of fighting. But quitting wasn't an option either. Not anymore.
William stepped inside the suite again, clearing his throat softly, as if afraid to disturb the fragile quiet. "Sir, the security setup is ready. The staff on this floor has been replaced. Only your authorized team will have access."
"Good," Allen said, then turned to me. "Your friend may stay in the room next to yours. She isn't being separated from you."
Celine stood. "I'm not leaving her alone, so that works. But don't think for one second that I trust you either."
Allen didn't argue.
William placed two keycards on the table. "Your rooms are connected by a private door. Only you two can open it."
I stared at the keys. A gilded cage was still a cage.
"Food will be sent up," William added. "Anything you need will be arranged."
Celine crossed her arms. "She needs space. Don't hover."
"I won't," Allen replied. Then he looked at me. "But I'll be close. Only because I have to be."
His presence felt like a storm outside a window—dangerous, unpredictable, but impossible to ignore.
---
When the suite door finally closed behind him and William, the silence felt different. Less oppressive, more intimate. Celine sat beside me, pulling her legs up like she was settling in for a long night.
"How are you holding up?" she asked, voice soft now.
"I don't know," I admitted. "I feel like someone pulled the floor from under me."
"You trusted a monster," she said. "It doesn't make you foolish. It makes you human."
My throat tightened. "I thought I knew who I married. I thought I understood him."
"You saw what he chose to show you," Celine murmured. "Men like him give you just enough love to keep you blind."
The truth hurt more than the lie.
I leaned back, staring at the ceiling. "What if Allen is lying? What if this is another trap?"
"Then we stay alert," she said. "We watch, we listen, we take what we can from him and leave the second we sense danger. But for now? This is the safest place we've had since this nightmare began."
She wasn't wrong. And that scared me too.
A soft knock sounded. Room service. When the trays were rolled in, I realized I hadn't eaten all day. My stomach twisted, torn between hunger and nausea.
Celine nudged a plate toward me. "Try. A few bites."
I did. Slowly. Mechanically. It felt like fuel, not comfort.
When we finished eating, she guided me toward the bedroom. "Shower. Wash the day off your skin. You'll sleep better."
I stepped into the bathroom. The moment the warm water hit me, my knees gave out and I sank to the floor, hands covering my face.
I didn't cry loudly. The tears slipped out quietly, the kind that had been waiting too long.
I cried for the woman I used to be, for the future I thought I had. I cried because the truth finally had a face and it hurt.
By the time I returned to the bedroom, I felt hollow, but lighter. Celine was already curled up on the bed meant for her in the adjoining room. Mine felt too big. Too empty.
I lay down, staring at the darkness.
Just when my eyes were about to close, a thought pierced through the haze:
If my ex-husband planned that night…
What else had he done?
The fear that followed was sharp.
Because if he was capable of this, then he wasn't done with me yet.
And somewhere in this hotel, a man I barely knew was preparing for a war with him.
I had no idea which of them was more dangerous.