The city hums around Liliana Wren like a living, breathing entity—neon lights flickering, rain pooling on the uneven pavement. She barely notices any of it, too focused on the chaos unraveling around her.
Liliana exhales sharply, her patience stretched thin. She turns to Adrian, her gaze unwavering, eyes blazing with defiance.
"Shut up, Adrian," she snaps, her voice low and cutting. "I don't belong to you. I don't answer to you. And from this moment forward, I don't want to see you, hear you, or even know you exist. Do you understand?"
Adrian's jaw clenches, a muscle ticking as he stares at her. His eyes flash with something—anger, jealousy, maybe even regret. But Liliana doesn't flinch, standing tall and unyielding.
"Don't contact me again. Don't follow me. Don't even breathe in my direction," she finishes, her tone cold as steel.
A tense silence follows, sharp and suffocating. Adrian's shoulders tense as he drags a hand through his hair, visibly wrestling with his own pride and whatever lingering feelings remain. Finally, he exhales sharply and walks away without another word.
Liliana watches him disappear into the night, relief flooding her veins. One problem down.
But she's not alone. She can feel the weight of a gaze still fixed on her. Turning back to the sleek black car, she finds Lorenzo Valenti watching her intently, that signature smirk playing at his lips.
She narrows her eyes, stepping closer to the car, folding her arms defensively.
"Let me guess," Liliana says, her tone dry. "You think you're different from him? Just because you're richer, smoother, and better dressed doesn't mean you're not the same brand of trouble."
Lorenzo leans forward slightly, resting his elbows on his knees. His eyes glint with amusement.
"You tell me," he replies, voice a rich, deep rumble.
Liliana doesn't back down. She leans down, resting her hands on the car door, eyes locking onto his.
"Men like you and Adrian," she murmurs, voice steady, "you think everything can be bought. You believe power and money make you untouchable. But the truth? You don't know how to value a woman. You don't love—you possess. And I don't belong to anyone."
Lorenzo's chuckle is soft, but there's something different in his eyes now—an intrigue, a challenge he's clearly not used to facing.
"And yet," he murmurs, his gaze intent, "you're still here… speaking to me instead of walking away. That's interesting."
Liliana straightens, shaking her head with a slight smirk.
"Not for you," she says simply, then turns on her heel, walking away without another glance.
The city's chill nips at her skin as she strides down the empty streets, adrenaline still buzzing in her veins. Freedom. Or so she thinks—until her phone vibrates inside her purse.
A message. Unknown number.
"You have no idea what you've just walked away from, sweetheart. But you will soon enough."
Liliana's breath hitches. Her heart pounds harder, but she swallows down the fear threatening to creep in. With a deep breath, she types back, her fingers steady.
"I don't want to know, and I'd be glad if you don't trouble yourself by associating with me. Let's do each other a favor and leave it at that."
She hits send without hesitation. A moment later, her phone buzzes again. Read. No reply.
Good. Message received.
Liliana doesn't waste time. She picks up her pace, weaving through the city's maze of streets, every shadow feeling more ominous than before. Her heels click rhythmically against the sidewalk, but she never looks back.
Finally, her building looms ahead, and she fumbles for her keys, hands slightly trembling—not out of fear, but from sheer exhaustion. As soon as she steps inside, she locks the door behind her, pressing her back against the cool wood.
Silence. Safe. Alone. Free.
At least, she hopes so.
But as she moves deeper into her apartment, her phone vibrates one more time. A picture message.
Her building. Her window. Taken from the street below.
Liliana's pulse quickens, eyes widening as she reads the message beneath the image:
"You may not want to know me, sweetheart… but I already know you."
Her hands shake as she types, but her message is sharp and unwavering.
"Why are you so obsessed with me? Can't you just leave me alone?"
She sends it, and the seconds stretch, the clock on the wall ticking like a countdown.
The reply is almost immediate.
Unknown Number:"Obsession? No, sweetheart. This is interest. And I always get what interests me."
Her stomach twists. Who the hell is this?
Before she can react, another message follows.
"You walked away from Adrian. You rejected Valenti. That should make you untouchable. And yet… look outside."
Liliana's breath stalls. Slowly, cautiously, she approaches the window. Peering out, she scans the street below. Amid the usual bustle, one figure stands out.
A man. Standing beneath the streetlamp, staring up.
Her heartbeat thunders as she squints to make out his features. He's too far away, his face shadowed, but there's no mistaking it—he knows she's looking.
Because just then, he raises his phone.
Another text.
"Now you see me."