Sunlight streams down the glass as my fist crashes into the punching bag again. My knuckles burn, my breath feels sharp, and the impact echoes like a warning I've put off for too long. Sweat drips down my chest as I pour the water above my head to cool, blurring my view, but one thought stays clear.
Morano finally slipped.
I can feel it in my bones the way his grip has loosened, and his focus has shifted to something warm and breathing that doesn't belong in his world. I stop, finger pushing back the hair, and let out a slow, dark laugh. So this is the trigger. Not bullets. Not blood.
A girl. Someone fragile enough to love, foolish enough to be close to him. Morano does have taste, I'll give him that, but this taste will turn into weakness when it leads to attachment.
Now it's only a matter of time before I drag him down by it, before I force him to his knees and make him watch everything he's built decay because he dared to want something so human, like when all he is a Monster.
The bag still sways when I turn away from it, and the chains rattle softly as if it is anxious. I wipe my hands on a towel and reach for the folder on the metal bench. It's plain, unmarked, the kind that doesn't seem important until you understand better. Inside, I find photographs of both of them from the gala, surveillance stills, and time stamps. A life captured in fragments. I don't look at the face for too long; mystery is more helpful when it remains whole. Instead, I notice the patterns, the rhythms, Morning light, familiar routes, and a door he now waits behind instead of walking away from. I exhale slowly and steadily.
I stop when I see the photograph clearly this time.
Ella De Ava.
Ella. The name feels like something I've longed to taste. I tilt the page and study her face under harsh fluorescent light. She seems too gentle for the world she's entered, too real to survive men like us without being touched. A slow smile appears on my face.
So this is her. This is the flaw.
Morano's deadly weakness. I can already picture it.
How his posture will change, how his instincts will betray him, and how every ruthless choice he's made will waver when her safety is at stake. It will be amusing, I think, to watch his empire bend under the pressure of something as delicate as love.
Watching him make the wrong choices, watching him fall.
I tap the edge of the file with my thumb once, firmly.
And You. I think as my gaze lingers on her picture for just a moment longer, you'll be perfect. In my hands. A Marionette who won't even notice the strings at first.
I'll pull when I want. Loosen when it suits me. Tighten when I need him to feel pain. And when the time comes and when Morano is finally on his knees, looking up at me, realizing too late what loving you has cost him.
I'll decide whether to let the strings snap. The game has begun.
I slip the file back onto the bench and leave it there for now, finished with it for now. The real work starts sequentially. I walked out of the hallway, guards standing heads bowed, not daring to meet my gaze. I head to my room, the room lights flickering above as I strip off my sweat-soaked clothes. The mirror catches my eye briefly. These scars on my back are always a reminder of what happens to one who betrays.
I appear calm and composed, as if nothing inside me is sharpening to a point. I shower and dress carefully, button by button, choosing a kind of restraint that feels civil. This isn't a night for rushing. It's about preparation.
By the time I fasten my watch and adjust my cuffs, the plan has fully settled in my mind. Morano will think everything is normal when the first move happens, small and unnoticeable.
He won't see the knife until it's already under his ribs. I pick up my keys, pause, and smile to myself. Today, I set the board.
-----
Ella's Pov~
Sunlight streams across my bed as soft particles drift in the basking sunlight glow, and realization struck upon me, waking me up instantly, heart racing as I twist toward the clock.
Damn. My eyes squint. My breath hitches. "I overslept, I was going to be late—"
The thought fades away as soon as my gaze shifts.
He's sitting by my bedside.
For a moment, my mind won't catch up, stuck between sleep and panic. I blink once. Twice. He doesn't disappear. Sylus sits quietly in the chair beside my bed, elbows resting on his knees, head slightly bowed as if he just dozed off or never truly let himself relax.
He stayed?
The question hits me harder than the missed alarm. As the morning light spills over him in soft lines, washing away last night's intensity and leaving something gentler behind. His jacket is gone, his white turtle neck sleeves rolled up, watch still on his wrist. He looks tired in a way that feels familiar.
Like he's been protecting something delicate.
My body tenses, warm and confused all at once.
He could've left. Anyone else would have. But instead, he sat here through the night, through my sleep, and still chose to stay close.
I shift slightly, the mattress creaking, and his head lifts immediately. His eyes meet mine, sharp even with remnants of sleep.
"You're awake," he says quietly. Not surprised. Just… there.
I swallow, my voice softer than I expect. "Yeah.."
I pull the blanket closer, suddenly aware of how intimate this feels to him in my morning, in my space, in the quiet aftermath of whatever changed last night. Sunlight warms the sheets, dust motes floating lazily between us, and the world feels unbearably still.
My gaze drifts to his lips before I can stop myself. The memory hits instantly; last night rushes back in elements so vivid that my breath catches in my throat. That slow kiss, deliberate and steady, the way it pulled the ground out from under me. My heart dropped straight into my stomach. My knees went weak, as if my body had forgotten how to stand on its own. Everything went hazy, the edges blurring, the world narrowing until there was only him. How that slowness sharpened into something fierce. Intent to devour me whole. It felt like he wasn't just kissing me, but contemplating something.
Claiming ground neither of us had named yet.
Heat settled in my chest at the thought, and as I looked away quickly, feeling crept up on my skin, I swallowed, trying to steady myself. Morning light spills across the bed, warm and innocent, at odds with how my pulse betrays me.
I slip out of bed while he steps away to take a call. His voice is low and distant as I move quickly and quietly. The bathroom light feels too bright after the hustle of the morning, but I welcome it. I splash cool water on my face, take a few steady breaths, and take a moment to collect myself.
Ten minutes later, after being done with the morning routine, I was out in a baggy sweatshirt and sweatpants. My hair is twisted into a messy bun that barely holds.
"Let's go," I say, trying to sound light. He nodded as we left the apartment together, the door clicking shut behind us. Soon, we're seated in the car again. It feels familiar now, almost. As he pulls onto the road, guilt nudges at me.
"I'm really sorry you have to drive me there again—"
He gently interrupts me without even glancing over. "Don't," he says. The word isn't sharp, but it's firm and final. I look at him, confused. "I'm not doing you a favor," he continues, eyes fixed ahead and voice calm. "I'm doing what I should."
"Why did you stay last night?" I ask softly, watching the road blur past the window. "You could've just left, you know?" He doesn't answer right away. The silence stretches, not uncomfortable, but thoughtful. His hands stay steady on the wheel.
"I did," he says finally, his voice even and calm.
"Because how could I let you stay alone in your apartment with the door unlocked?"
I turn toward him, surprised by how simple he makes it sound. Like, there was never another option. Like, leaving had never been an idea.
"I didn't know-" I start. "I know," he interrupts gently, but not unkindly. "That's why I did."
His words land quietly but firmly, settling somewhere deep. I swallow and nod, unsure what to say to that kind of certainty. Outside, the city wakes up around us, but inside the car, everything feels still.
That settles something in my chest, warm and uneasy all at once. I nod slowly, letting the apology fade unsaid as I watch the city wake up around us. Fifteen minutes in, we were outside the flower shop as I got out of the car. As I turned around, leaning close to the car window, "Thank you," He smiled back, that smile that will melt away the hearts.
The car silently moved away as I turned around and started walking. Everything happened at once. I bump into someone hard enough to knock the breath out of me. "Ouch."
Hot liquid splashes down my sleeve. "fuck-" I froze and looked up. There was a tall Guy, He's unsettlingly so, with sharp features that seemed too deliberate to be accidental. His eyes are hidden behind dark glasses, but somehow I can still feel them on me. Coffee drips from his coat, steam curling between us like a visible mistake.
"Oh my God, I'm so sorry," I blurt out, panic rising. "I wasn't looking."
He smiles. It's polite and perfect, but empty. "It's alright," he says smoothly, his voice eerily calm and cool as steel beneath silk. "You seemed in a hurry."
Something about the way he says it makes my spine tingle.
"I-yeah," I manage, stepping back instinctively. "Myself, Ace."
He reaches into his pocket and hands me a business card, his movements unhurried and precise. I take it automatically, my fingers brushing the thick paper.
"Ace Desmond " ~ Real estate Businessman
Before I can respond, he lifts a hand and slowly pulls down his shades just enough to look at me properly.
His eyes lock onto mine.
"Ella?" My stomach drops.
"Yes…?" I say, confused. "Do I—do I know you?"
His smile deepens, not warmer, sharper.
"No," he replies softly. "But I know you."
---
SYULS'S POV~
I jog back toward her, phone in hand, shaking my head slightly with a smile I don't hide.
"This silly girl," I murmur to myself. "Forgot her phone."
Then I see her. She isn't alone.
My smile fades mid-step. Ella stands frozen, a man in front of her too close, too composed. Before I can fully register the situation, my body reacts. The posture, the stillness, that calmness I haven't seen in years.
My gaze locks on him.
"Ace?"
The name sends a chill down my spine. Blood drains from my face as recognition hits me hard and fast. A ghost from the past is standing in front of me. His eyes meet mine, and that grin slowly, knowing one I've seen before. In rooms that smelled like blood and regret. In moments that broke me most.
Ella turns slightly, confused, sensing the change but not yet understanding it.
I close the distance, pulling her back against me with a firm hand at her waist. My protective instinct flares up, strong and immediate, radiating from me without restraint. She stiffens for a moment, then relaxes, instinctively trusting my hold.
Ace's smile broadens. He slowly removes his glasses, revealing eyes that seem too pleased to see me.
"Sylus," he says smoothly. "Nice to meet you again, dear friend."
Friend. I didn't return the smile. Every muscle in my body tensed, each sense on high alert. Of all the places. Of all the times.
This isn't a coincidence. It never was.
His eyes. That damned amber gaze, clear and sharp, alight with something that has never known mercy. They haven't changed. The same calculating glow remains, like a predator watching for the moment its prey realizes it's already trapped.
I've seen those eyes across tables stained with secrets, in rooms where betrayal was cruel and our stained hands finished off the traitors. Eyes that measured weakness like currency. Ace's gaze flicks to my hand at Ella's waist.
It lingers, then it returns to my face.
Ah. There it is. Understanding blooms behind that smile, slow and satisfied. He takes in how she fits against me, how my body has already positioned itself between them. He doesn't need it explained. He never did.
"So this is her," he says lightly, almost amused, as if we're discussing the weather. "The reason you've been… distracted."
My jaw tightens as Ella shifts beside me, sensing the tension now, her confusion turning sharp. I feel it in the way her breath changes, the way her body presses subtly closer to mine without realizing why. "Ella, you're already late. You should go. I know him, it's alright." I kissed her forehead as she nodded and left.
Ace notices that his eyes gleam.
I step forward, just enough to make a point. Just enough to remind him to stay out of my business. As Ace's gaze drifts back to Ella, assessing, curious, far too interested.
I know with absolute certainty. His voice was calm, and he looked at me,
"Well, your choice never fails to surprise me, Sylus."
"She sure is a fine wine," he smirked. I felt anger boiling beneath me as I grabbed his collar.
"Don't you fucking dare. Touch her or go near her."
"You will see the hell that you ran from. Why are you even back?" My words dripped with hatred and venom.
"She doesn't know it yet. Right? Who are you, really? Morano." His voice was cold and calculating.