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 adjusted the wig and scarf again, nerves tingling for no reason, and her steps quickened as she approached the parking spot where she'd left her car.
Her breath fogged in the crisp afternoon air as the sun struggled to pierce through the perversive clouds.
The scarce lighting of the sun casting long, dark shadows across the streets, making the city feel like it was closing in on her.
She wrapped her coat tightly around herself and shoved her hands deep into her pockets, hoping against hope to disappear into the anonymity of the bustling urban sprawl.
It was doomed to fail.
......
Lucian paced the expansive bedroom, the curtains drawn tight to block out the mocking brilliance of the mid-morning sun.
Three days had passed since Ayra's disappearance, and every lead, every strategy he and Ferdinand devised, had yielded nothing but dead ends - every single one of them!
The air in the room was thick with his frustration.
The occasional sharp crack of his knuckles breaking the silence as he clenched and unclenched his fists in a bid to do SOMETHING, but knowing that he was doing quite a lot already.
The desk before him was cluttered with maps, reports, and photographs, all evidence of the frantic search that had ensued when he returned.
A half-full glass of whiskey sat next to its bottle, untouched for hours.
Lucian ran a hand through his hair, his fingers tightening at the roots as if the physical sensation could distract him from the gnawing despair.... The unending frustration of it.
How could she vanish so completely?
Isa was clever, and all those things that he had always praised her for - but she was supposed to be HIS, goddammit.
The thought stung in ways he couldn’t even admit aloud, his despair and longing colliding in a toxic storm.
“Sir?”
Lucian turned sharply at the interruption, and found his man standing at the door, hesitant.
“What is it?” His tone was sharp, laced with the frustration he could no longer contain.
The man cleared his throat. “We’ve reviewed all the footage from the train stations and bus depots, but there was nothing. Either she’s avoiding public transportation, or -”
“Or what?” Lucian snapped, his voice a low growl.
“Or, perhaps, she’s outsmarted us,” the man finished, his tone careful and cautious. He had rarely seen Lucian angry, and an angry Lucian terrified him.
Lucian’s jaw tightened. Outsmarted. The word cut deeper than it should have.
He wanted to admire Isa's cunning, her ability to stay a step ahead. But admiration warred with anger and resentment as he again went over the questions he'd gone over for ages and ages.
Why did she run? Why didn’t she trust him? Was it Ferdinand’s fault - or his?
He exhaled heavily and turned away, his gaze falling to the suitcase half-packed on the low leather sofa.
He was due for a flight in a few hours - he had suspended the meeting with the Wendells abruptly, and needed to return.
He had expected to find Ayra within a day, take her from Ferdinand and Lisbeth, and then leave the next.
But how could he focus when Ayra was missing? When the person he suspected was Isa - his Isa - was slipping further and further out of reach?
He crossed the room, yanking the suitcase open. Shirts and ties, carefully folded by his staff, were tossed aside as he rifled through, looking for the file he needed for the trip.
His movements were jerky, his usually meticulous demeanor replaced by agitation.
He'd leave the city, but double the efforts here. Ferdinand and Lisbeth have proven incompetent; they’ll answer for this when he returned.
With Ayra potentially lost, the two would be perfect to appease his anger on.
Lucian paused suddenly, staring with intensity at his reflection in the mirror across him.
The man looking back at him was practically a stranger. Disheveled, with faint dark circles under his eyes.
He slammed the suitcase shut with more force than necessary, the sound echoing hauntingly in the quiet room.
“This is ridiculous,” he muttered to himself, annoyed beyond measure. “She is just one woman. She can't hide forever.”
Yet still, even as he said it, doubt crept in uninvited. Ayra had proven her resourcefulness time and again.
From the way she’d slipped out of the wedding venue, leaving practically no trace except for a ruined dress and a trail of misdirection. It was simply brilliant.
A part of him whispered that maybe - just maybe - she didn’t want to be found. The thought was unbearable, not unlike a knife twisting in his chest.
If Ayra truly was Isa - as the investigator’s 90% certainty suggested - then her escape didn’t make sense. Isa would have known him, trusted him.
She wouldn’t have run.
Unless she didn’t remember him.
Or, worse, she didn’t care.
He didn't like the thought of either so he continued to believe that her fleeing simply made no sense.
A quiet knock at the door snapped Lucian out of his thoughts.
“The car is ready, sir,” the servant announced.
Lucian gave a curt nod, grabbed the suitcase, and swept past the servant without another word, heading down the grand staircase and out to the waiting car.
Unsurprisingly, the ride to the airport was silent, the tension in the vehicle palpable.
Soon the car pulled up to the private terminal, and Lucian stepped out, his expression hard and unreadable.
Just then his phone rang and he picked it.
"Sir, we've got sight of her," a man's voice buzzed through.
Lucian's features changed immediately and his heart settled.
"Alright. Just tail her - don't spook her! I repeat, don't spook her! Leave her alone till I return." The meeting with the Wendells was too crucial to put off now.
"But... There's a problem, sir. We've spotted some of Wendell's dogs. They seem to be after her. "
Lucian's heart hardened and he spun on his heels on the spot, striding back to his car, his meeting forgotten.
"Address."
"She's at Chavlone Street, headed toward North Street."
Lucian cut the call and placed a call to George immediately.
"Hey, Lucian -" George began.
"George, why are some of your family dogs in my city?" Lucian spat.
"What are you -"
"They're after a girl, George. She's mine. Call them off pronto or you would regret it."
He cut the call and slipped back into the car.
"Chavlone Street. As fast as possible. Disregard the speed limits," he commanded.
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
Lucian abandoned the whiskey entirely, pushing the glass away and capping the bottle with an air of finality. It had tasted wrong anyway. Instead, he paced the small kitchenette, his mind a whirlwind of emotions and plans. What came next? How could he ensure her safety without scaring her off? How could he make her see that he wasn’t the enemy she thought him to be?Lucian paced the small kitchenette, his hands restless. Memories of Isa kept flashing in his mind and they were overwhelming. The way her eyes used to light up when she smiled, the way she always managed to keep him grounded when his world threatened to spiral out of control. She had been his anchor; more than he'd realized. Losing her had felt like losing a part of himself.Isa had been what made him human. He stopped pacing and leaned heavily against the counter, his head bowed. He didn’t realize his hands were trembling until he looked down and saw them. He clenched them and reached into his pocket for a pack of c
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
To be fair, Ayra hated this.Hated how cruel and bothersome she had to be.But if Lucian refused to acknowledge her, then she had to force his attention. No matter how ugly it got.....When Ayra stepped into the grand foyer, the staff had already gathered. There were more of them than she had realized—over a dozen pairs of wary eyes turned toward her as she entered.She could feel their resentment like a thick fog in the air.She took her place on the marble staircase, gripping the banister tightly before speaking. “You all had a day to leave,” she began, her voice cold. “And yet, you’re still here.”The butler took a step forward, his face unreadable. “As we have stated, madam, we serve the master of the house. Not you.”Ayra let out a quiet breath. She had expected this.“Fine,” she said smoothly. “If you won’t leave willingly, then I’ll make you.”At her cue, the front doors swung open.A group of people stepped inside, dressed in crisp serving uniforms, their expressions neutral.
Ayra sat at the breakfast table, untouched tea growing cold before her. The silence in the house had become suffocating. No matter what she did, no matter how much she tried to stir the waters, Lucian remained utterly indifferent. He ignored her tantrums, her disruptions, her passive-aggressive antics. He had locked her in this gilded cage and simply left her to rot, acting as if she didn’t exist.Fine.She set her cup down with deliberate care and rose to her feet. Without hesitation, she strode out of the dining room, her silk robe flowing behind her. The butler was walking past.“Stop,” she commanded.The butler paused, turning to her with polite detachment. “Madam?”Ayra folded her arms across her chest, lifting her chin slightly. “I want you to inform the staff that they are all fired.”The butler’s expression didn’t shift, but his silence stretched for a moment too long.“They have until the end of the day to pack their things and leave,” she continued. “I don’t want to see a si
Two days later Ayra lay sprawled on the plush velvet chaise lounge in her room, her fingers drumming impatiently on the armrest. The air in the house had grown heavier over the past two weeks. The polished floors gleamed, the scent of fresh flowers filled the halls, and every detail of the house was maintained to perfection—yet it felt like a lifeless shell. The staff worked diligently, moving about as if on eggshells around her, but no matter what Ayra did, they remained unwavering. Frustrated and angry, yes, but unwavering. Perhaps Lucian paid them more to put up with her antics. She wasn’t going to be ignored. If Lucian refused to engage, if the staff refused to react, then she would create a situation that could not be brushed aside.There came in Pedro.He was one of the few people from her mother’s past that Ayra had ever met. He was an old acquaintance, someone who she'd known since she was little. He wasn’t exactly a friend, but he had been there, lingering in the backgroun
This became a pattern for a brief while.Lunch? Too cold.Dinner? Not what she wanted anymore.Snacks? She changed her mind after they were made.She sent dishes back multiple times a day, forcing the kitchen staff to remake meals repeatedly before she would eat just enough to keep them from outright rebelling.Within days, the tension in the household thickened. The butler was visibly on edge, the chef was snapping at the assistants, and the maids were whispering amongst themselves in frustration.By the fifth day, the head butler had had enough.Ayra was lounging in the parlor, flipping through a book she had no intention of reading, when he approached. His posture was stiff, his jaw tight—yet he remained respectful.“Madam, forgive my boldness, but may I ask if something is troubling you?”Ayra looked up, feigning innocence. “Troubling me? Not at all.”The butler’s eyes twitched ever so slightly. “Then may I ask why the staff has had to remake your breakfast four times this morning?
It started with breakfast.The chef prepared the usual—a beautifully plated meal of toast, eggs, and fruit, presented with meticulous care. But as soon as the plate was placed in front of her, Ayra wrinkled her nose.“This isn’t what I wanted,” she said casually, pushing the plate away.The maid hesitated. “Madam, this is what you requested yesterday.”“Did I?” Ayra tilted her head, frowning. “I don’t remember. But I’m not in the mood for this today. Make me something else.”The staff exchanged glances, but after a slight hesitation, the maid nodded. “Of course.”Twenty minutes later, a fresh plate of food was brought to her. She picked at it, took a single bite, and sighed. “This is too salty. Can you make it again?”The chef’s patience visibly thinned, but they couldn’t refuse her. She was Lucian’s wife, after all, and despite the slight disregard they had for her, their orders had been to serve her and make her comfortable.But Ayra was just getting started. Breakfast the next day