Ayra hesitated for a long moment before entering the office building.
The air felt heavier, the weight of the last few days pressing down on her shoulders. Her nerves acting up while she did her damnedest to calm herself.
She adjusted her blond wig, tugged her scarf tighter around her neck, and smoothed her borrowed coat.
Her mother’s letter had led her here, but doubt gnawed at her. Would Mr. Landor even remember her mother? Would he even be willing to help her?
“Hi,” Ayra greeted, keeping her voice carefully polite. “I need to speak with Mr. Landor. It is urgent.”
The young woman behind the desk barely glanced up at her, engrossed as she was in a book as she asked; “Do you have an appointment?”
“No, but it’s about a more... personal matter. Please, do tell him it’s from an old friend,” Ayra replied, leaning forward slightly.
The receptionist frowned, but perhaps there was something in Ayra’s tone that convinced her to pick up the phone and phone the man's office.
After a brief conversation over the phone, she nodded toward the hallway. “Second door on the left, miss. He said he’ll see you.”
...
Minutes later, Ayra walked into the room, her heart thundering. Mr. Landor sat behind a desk cluttered with papers, a balding man in his sixties with sharp, observant eyes.
He gave her a quick glance, his demeanor guarded and slightly hostile.
“And who are you, if you don't mind?” he asked, folding his hands before him and offering her a seat.
Restless and unable to settle, Ayra choose instead to stand as she didn't feel like sitting. “My name is Ayra. I believe you knew my mother.”
His brows furrowed in apparent confusion and he shook his head with an exasperated sigh. “I’ve had many clients over the years, dear girl. You will need to be more specific, I am afraid.”
“Her name was Marissa,” Ayra provided carefully. “Marissa Russo.”
"Who?" He queried, genuinely confused. "I doubt I knew her."
"What about Marissa Ashford?" Ayra asked, looking at him intently. Ashford was her mother's maiden name. "Does that ring a bell?"
The color drained from his face. He leaned back in his chair, his hands gripping the armrests of his seat tightly.
“Marissa, huh,” he murmured, as if testing the name. “I haven’t heard that name in... years, it seems.”
“It’s urgent, Mr. Landor,” Ayra said. “She left me a letter saying I should come to you if I ever needed help getting out of Scosch. Well, I... I need it now.”
Landor’s eyes darted toward the door. He adjusted his glasses nervously and took a minute to clear his throat.
“I think you’ve made a mistake, Miss Ashford. I can’t help you.”
Ayra felt a surge of frustration. “You haven’t even heard what I need. At least let me - ”
“Miss,” he interrupted, his voice firm now, “I don’t get involved in... situations like... this anymore. I’m sorry for your trouble, but I think you should leave.”
Ayra hesitated. She needed him to believe her.
With a trembling hand, she reached up and pulled off her blond wig, letting her dark brown hair spill over her shoulders in waves.
Then she removed the blue contacts, revealing her natural hazel eyes.
Landor’s jaw tightened and he swallowed tensely, his face going pale. “Good Lord... You really are her daughter.”
“Yes,” Ayra said, seizing on his reaction. “My mother trusted you, and she wouldn’t have sent me here unless she knew you could help me. Please, Mr. Landor.”
The man sighed and said: "You called her Merissa Russo before?"
"Yes," Ayra replied. "She married my father - Ferdinand Russo."
He stood abruptly, pacing behind his desk. “On that case, you really do not understand one with what you’re asking. Helping you could cost me everything.”
"What?" Ayra asked.
Landor rounded on her.
"You know people are looking high and low for you, right?"
"Well, yes, that's why I - "
"It is settled then! I can't help you!"
Ayra stepped closer. “What are you so afraid of? I just need -”
“YOU need to listen!” Landor snapped, his voice low, forceful.
“Do you have ANY idea who’s looking for you? The Director is not a man to cross. If Lucian finds out I so much as spoke to you...”
The name sent a chill through Ayra. She knew Lucian was powerful, but hearing Landor’s fear made the fear of him people had in the city seem more than unnerving.
“I understand the risk,” she said, trying to calm him down and perhaps play the sympathy card. “But I have nowhere else to go.”
Landor shook his head, his hands trembling as he pulled out a cigarette from his pocket.
"I always knew that deal with Marissa was going to bite me in the behind one day," he muttered.
“You don’t understand the kind of man he is. Lucian controls more than you realize. He has people everywhere. Even this office isn’t safe from his reach. Even fleeing from Scosch is hardly enough.”
Ayra clenched her fists, frustration from dashed hope mounting. “So, you’re just going to turn me away? My mother trusted you!”
“That was a long time ago,” Landor said quietly. “Things have changed.”
“Maybe for you,” Ayra retorted, her frustration boiling over, “but not for me. My life is falling apart. I didn’t ask for any of this. I didn’t ask to be used, or hunted, or -”
She broke off, her voice cracking as, suddenly, she found herself breaking down inside emotionally.
“You were her... Friend. You must have some way to help me. Please.”
Landor’s expression softened for a moment, but the fear and determination returned just as quickly. “I’m sorry, Miss Russo. I can’t.”
“Can’t, or won’t?” Ayra demanded, stepping closer.
He met her gaze, guilt flickering in his eyes. “Both.”
Ayra’s chest tightened. She wanted to scream, to demand answers, but she could see the truth written all over his face. Landor wasn’t just unwilling - he was terrified.
Ayra stepped back, her hands trembling as she sought to hold herself.
Landor looked away, unable to meet her gaze.
“I’ll find another way,” Ayra said, forcing steel into her voice. “Thank you for seeing me.”
Without waiting for a response, she turned and left the office, her heart pounding.
She had hoped this meeting would give her a way out she desperately needed, but it had only served to make the noose around her neck feel all the more tighter.
As the door closed behind her, Landor slumped into his chair, running a hand over his face.
“Marissa,” he whispered, his voice thick with regret. “What in the world have you gotten such a little girl into?”
For a moment, he considered going after Ayra and helping her despite the risks. But then the thought of Lucian loomed over him, and he stayed seated, paralyzed by fear.
Ayra’s heart pounded in her chest as she walked briskly down the street, the cold wind biting at her face. The encounter with Mr. Landor had left her both frustrated and disappointed. She clutched her coat tighter around herself, her thoughts spiraling.Seeing the veritable lockdown the city was in just to find her, she felt Lucian's determination not to let her slip through his fingers.She had a sinking feeling that her original idea to first lay low and then slip away would not work. Her mother had led her here, but the man she had pinned her hopes on was unwilling to help. Her disguise itched against her scalp, yet she didn’t dare to remove it just yet. She kept her head down, blending into the crowd as best she could, each step toward her car feeling heavier than the last.Every passing figure seemed to glance her way. Every shadow stretched just a little too far for comfort; the hustle and bustle of the street should have been reassuring, but it felt suffocating instead. She
An uneasy sensation prickled at the back of her neck. An unsettling, creeping awareness that she was being watched. She glanced over her shoulder and her breath caught. A man in a dark jacket leaned casually against a lamppost, his face partially obscured by a baseball cap. He looked away when her eyes met his.Ayra’s stomach churned. She tried to tell herself it was paranoia. A side effect of the stress and the high stakes. It didn't work. As she turned another corner, she noticed someone else. Another man, this one in a hoodie, lingering by a newsstand. His gaze followed her for just a moment too long before he pretended to look at a newspaper.Her heart began to race. She quickened her pace, the heels of her boots clicking sharply against the pavement. Her legs carried her toward the parking lot almost on autopilot and as she neared her car, her instincts screamed at her to stop and look. Four men stood by the entrance to the lot, their postures too casual, their eyes too ale
Grabbing the rungs, she hauled herself up, her palms stinging against the cold, rusty metal.The men reached the base just as she scrambled onto the roof. “Keep going!” she heard one shout, his boots thudding against the ladder as he climbed.Ayra rolled over the edge of the roof just as bullets whizzed past her face and thudded into the chimney beside her. They were shooting at her, and now fear was truly solidifying in her belly. The rooftop offered a temporary reprieve, but it wasn’t enough. Ayra scanned her surroundings, her chest heaving. Another building loomed nearby, its rooftop within jumping distance - if she was lucky.Needless to say, Ayra did not feel lucky. Without giving herself time to second-guess, she sprinted and leapt. For a heart-stopping moment, she was weightless, suspended in the air. Then her feet hit solid ground, the impact jarring her knees.The men weren’t far behind. She could hear their voices, their footsteps, the scrape of their boots on the gravel
“Who the hell are these people?!” Ayra yelled, her voice raw with unfiltered panic. Lucian didn’t answer immediately, his focus on the cars chasing them. When he finally spoke, his words were clipped. "Funnily enough, I also want to know.” Her hands curled into fists. “They were after me before you showed up! Why?” Lucian glanced at her, his eyes dark, angry. But she felt he wasn't angry at her - at least not right now. “Why don’t you tell me?” The SUV pulled onto a highway, the speedometer climbing as the driver tried to put distance between them and their pursuers. Lucian’s jaw was tight, his knuckles white as he gripped his weapon.The SUV weaved through the traffic at an alarming pace, the hum of the engine growing louder as it accelerated further. Lucian leaned forward, his jaw clenched and his eyes scanning the road ahead. Ayra sat frozen in the backseat, gripping the edge of her seat tightly, the adrenaline coursing through her leaving her both terrified and acutely a
When they got away from the road, Lucian put Ayra on her feet. The dense foliage offered some respite from the open road, but Ayra’s lungs burned as she struggled to keep up with Lucian’s long strides. He slowed only slightly, his hand gripping her wrist to ensure she didn’t fall behind.After what felt like eternity they emerged onto a narrow dirt road. Ayra doubled over, gasping for breath, but Lucian didn’t let her rest for long.“We've arrived,” he said, pointing to a dilapidated gas station a short distance away. Its flickering neon sign cast an eerie glow over the otherwise desolate area.Ayra followed him silently, her legs trembling with exhaustion. He was all but carrying her once more, honestly. The gas station was quiet, fluorescent lights overhead casting a harsh glare over the aisles of dusty merchandise. Lucian led her toward the back, keeping a careful eye on the door.“You can sit,” he said, gesturing to a worn-out bench near the restrooms.Ayra sank onto the bench a
"Believe it or not, I don’t want to see you hurt," he said quietly. His words hit Ayra harder than she expected, leaving her momentarily speechless. She wanted to argue, to push him away, to remind him that he was the reason she was running in the first place. But the words wouldn’t come. Not when his touch was so careful. His voice so steady, and his actions so at odds, with the image of him she’d built in her head. With the literal monster she had pegged him for. Confused, she remained silent for the remainder of the treatment."All done," Lucian said, sitting back on his heels as he finished wrapping her arm in a neat bandage.Ayra glanced down at his work, then back at him. "Thank you," she mumbled. Then wanted to hit herself upside the head. Why mumble the thanks?!Lucian simply nodded, standing to return the first-aid kit to its place. Ayra watched him move, her mind racing with emotions she couldn’t quite name. She hated that she felt grateful to him. She hated the way his k
It seemed that, finally, she had a moment of peace. It was ironic, actually. She had never felt safe these past few days. Not at the cabin, where the thought of her father finding her occupied her nights and a faint anxiety that her hideout had been found suffusing her days. Yet to find peace with Lucian of all people. What a joke. The moment of peace didn’t last long. A soft knock on the door startled her, but before she could respond, Lucian pushed it open. He leaned casually against the doorframe, holding a deck of cards she’d noticed earlier in the living room. He had changed as well, now wearing a plain white t-shirt that clung to his lean frame and a pair of dark gray sweatpants that looked oddly casual on him. Lucian's hair was damp, suggesting he had showered as well, and the sharp demeanor he usually exuded seemed to have softened.“Didn’t think you’d wait for permission?” Ayra said dryly, eyeing him.Lucian gave a soft smile, holding up the cards and shaking them. “Th
Lucian left Ayra’s room with his hands tucked in his pockets and let the door click shut behind him. He leaned back against the wall, eyes closed, exhaling a long, shuddering breath he hadn’t realized he had been holding. Relief coursed through him like a drug. He took a deep breath, and his shoulders sagged as if he had been holding himself upright through sheer willpower for days. Which he had been, in a way. The relief coursing through him was almost palpable. He had finally found her - or at least, someone he was now convinced was Isa.There was no one thing that convinced him, and perhaps he had rushed to a conclusion, but heaven knows he believed it with all his heart. His lips quirked upward in a rare, unguarded smile - small, almost imperceptible, but simply happy. He ran a hand through his dark hair, pushing it back as his thoughts raced. Every moment they’d just shared replayed in his mind like a precious memory he wanted to hoard.Ayra was so much like Isa it wasn't e
The silence gnawed at Ayra.For all her careful orchestration—for the balcony appearances with tousled hair and artful smudges of lipstick, for the planted photographs handed to Nico, for the media blitz that followed—Lucian had yet to respond. No message. No confrontation. No fury.No presence.Ayra wandered through the silent halls of the manor like a ghost in her own haunting. It had been two days since she fed the flames of the scandal herself, tipping the scales and watching Lucian’s pristine, untouchable image buckle under the weight of betrayal. It had spread like wildfire—first, the hushed reveal of their secret marriage, then the carefully timed photos of her supposed affair with Leon. The media had eaten it up, ravenous for every scandalous morsel.The silence that followed was not relief.It was strange, like waiting for an earthquake after watching the ground crack beneath her feet. She expected retaliation, the burn of his fury, maybe even for Lucian to return and demand
He set the envelope down, fingers tightening against the edges. "You’re playing a dangerous game," he murmured.Ayra tilted her head. "Am I?"He didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he leaned back, assessing her with a careful, measured look. "What exactly are you trying to accomplish here?"She smiled, but there was no warmth behind it. "That’s for Lucian to figure out, isn’t it?"A beat of silence. Then:"You want me to do something with this."Ayra reached for her wine glass again, swirling the liquid absently. "I want it to be known," she said simply. "I want the world to talk."Nico exhaled, setting the envelope down as if it were something poisonous. "You do realize that if I take this to him, you’ll regret it?"Ayra’s gaze sharpened."I’ll regret nothing," she said quietly.Another silence stretched between them.Finally, Nico let out a slow, resigned breath. "You really don’t care if he burns everything down over this, do you? And by the way, it's practically impossible for him
She told herself it was necessary, what she was doing.But in the past few days, something inside her twisted in ways she couldn’t quite name.It was easy enough to play the role, to smirk when she needed to, to let her fingers trail over the stem of a wine glass as if she had all the time in the world. But every time she stepped onto that balcony, feigning the remnants of an intimate encounter, a part of her coiled tight in discomfort.Lucian had done nothing but let her fester in silence, leaving her with no choice but to force his hand. She needed him to react—to do something. If he wanted to play the game of indifference, she would break that facade piece by piece.And yet, she hated that it had come to this.That she had to use someone else just to make herself seen.At night, when the estate was quiet, she would stand by the mirror in her room, staring at her own reflection as if it held the answers.What did she expect Lucian to do?What did she want him to do?She wasn’t sure a
Ayra led Leon into her chambers with steady steps, her fingers brushing against his arm in a way that suggested intimacy. Yet as she stepped over the threshold, a quiet revulsion coiled deep in her stomach.The thought of him here—of his presence in this space—left a bitter taste in her mouth.Still, she had to see this through.She glanced at the walls, at the high corners of the ceiling. She suspected Lucian had placed surveillance somewhere in the house. That would explain his silence—his patience. He’s waiting for proof. Waiting to see if she would really go through with it.Fine.If he needed proof, she would give it to him.Leon, oblivious to the storm brewing inside her, exhaled a slow breath as he stepped into the room. "You know," he murmured, turning to face her, "I wasn’t expecting this tonight."She forced a small smile. "Change of plans."He studied her for a moment, his gaze dark, his amusement barely concealed. "And here I thought you enjoyed the chase.""I do." She cros
The game unfolded slowly, piece by piece, each move carefully placed on the board.It started with simple meetings—casual, almost meaningless to an outsider. Ayra and Leon continued their rendezvous in high-end cafés, lounges with dim lighting, and restaurants tucked away in discreet corners of the city. They never once met at the same place twice. That alone was enough to stir whispers among those who paid attention.She ensured Lucian’s men saw them. She played her part well, letting moments linger, leaning in a fraction closer than necessary despite the roiling in her gut, letting a smirk or a laugh escape at the right moments. There was no real intimacy, but to anyone watching, it didn’t matter. The illusion had begun to take root.And then, she took the next step.She invited Leon to the house.It was a slow escalation, deliberate in every way.The game unfolded over two weeks, methodical and deliberate. Ayra knew the power of suggestion, the weight of unspoken words, and the way
The message came just before dinner.Leon: Had a great time chatting today. Wouldn’t mind another round—this time, somewhere quieter?Ayra sat back on the plush sofa of her sitting room, twirling the phone in her fingers. She had been expecting him to reach out. Encouraging it, even. Yet, staring at the message, she hesitated. The line between playing a game and getting caught in it was dangerously thin.But Lucian had yet to react to anything she’d done. Not the staff replacement, not the disorder she’d caused in the estate, not even her blatant attempts to provoke him. He remained distant, untouchable, as though she didn’t even exist. It burned.Maybe this would be the thing to get under his skin.She typed her response carefully.Ayra: I wouldn’t mind that. Where do you suggest?His reply came within moments.Leon: I know a private lounge near the East District. Great wine, even better company.She smiled faintly. He was charming, smooth. Just enough to make this easier.Ayra: Send
The afternoon sun cast a golden glow over the city as Ayra stepped out of the car, the sleek black vehicle blending seamlessly with the polished luxury of the district. The streets here were lined with designer boutiques, private lounges, and high-end cafés—places that oozed exclusivity, where only the elite could afford to linger. It was the kind of setting she had been raised in for the later part of her life, yet now, standing before one of the finest cafés in the city, she felt strangely like an outsider.The café, Bellaria, was known for its privacy and refinement. It wasn’t a place for loud conversation or rushed meetings; here, the rich came to drink imported coffee, discuss business, and subtly flaunt their power. It was exactly the kind of place Lucian would be seen in.That was part of the reason she had come.Ayra pushed open the glass door, a small bell chiming above her head. Inside, the space was decorated in dark wood and gold, the air rich with the scent of roasted co
Nico stepped into Lucian’s office, the weight of his report pressing down on him. The room was dimly lit, the glow of the evening cityscape filtering through the large windows behind the man seated at the desk. Lucian didn’t look up immediately, his attention fixed on the documents before him, his fingers tapping rhythmically against the polished wood.“Speak,” Lucian said, his voice low, controlled.Nico took a slow breath before delivering the news. “It’s about Ayra.”Lucian’s fingers stilled. He finally looked up, his expression unreadable. “What did she do now?”“She’s replaced the staff.”Silence.Lucian leaned back in his chair, studying Nico with an eerie calm. “Come again?”Nico’s jaw tightened. “She fired the entire estate staff. Threw them out and replaced them with her own people. None of the original staff are left. Worse, they refuse to return.”Lucian’s gaze snapped up. “Refuse?”Nico hesitated, then nodded. “They’re scared, boss.”Lucian scoffed, leaning back in his cha
By the time the dust settled, the house was eerily quiet.The last of the protesting staff had been escorted off the premises, their voices still ringing in Ayra’s ears.The replacement staff stood awkwardly near the foyer, waiting for orders. But Ayra had none to give.She should have felt victorious.She had made her statement. She had taken control.But all she felt was exhaustion.The butler was the only one who hadn’t been forcibly removed. He still stood by the staircase, arms clasped behind his back. Unlike the others, he hadn’t fought. He hadn’t shouted.And that made him all the more annoying.Ayra met his gaze, a strange tension hanging between them.“You’re still here,” she observed.“I am,” he replied.“I told you to leave.”“You told them to leave,” he said with an insipid little look on his eye. “But you did not fire me.”Ayra exhaled through her nose. “Do you really think Lucian would let me? Would he be happy if I did so?”The butler smiled slightly, but it was devoid o