Riven didn't say a word on the ride back.
His jaw was clenched, fingers tight on the steering wheel. The only sound in the car was the occasional buzz of his phone — which he ignored each time.
I held the note from Ryker in my lap, unfolded now, as if looking at his handwriting would help me make sense of everything.
He was alive.
But why hadn't he come back?
Why was he warning me about Riven when Riven seemed like the only person actually trying to protect me?
When we reached the penthouse, I expected him to go straight to his room again — but instead, he turned to me in the elevator and asked, "You really want the truth?"
I nodded.
He exhaled slowly. "Tomorrow morning. I'm taking you somewhere."
"Where?"
"To a storage unit Ryker rented six months before he disappeared. Under my name."
My stomach dropped.
"And you didn't tell me this earlier because…?"
"Because I wasn't sure what was inside. And I wasn't sure if I wanted you to see it."
The elevator doors opened. He didn't wait for my reply.
---
The next morning, we drove in silence again — this time to a dusty building on the outskirts of the city.
It was the kind of place where secrets liked to hide.
Unit 106. Riven keyed in the code, rolled up the shutter, and stepped inside first.
I followed, heart pounding.
It wasn't filled with much. Just a few cardboard boxes, a locked fireproof safe, and a dark green duffel bag.
Riven opened the duffel and pulled out a stack of photographs.
Most were normal — Ryker and Riven at company events, Ryker with an arm around a girl I didn't recognize, Ryker laughing at a beach party.
But one photo made me go cold.
It was me.
Me, sitting in a café, wearing the same blue scarf I'd worn the day Ryker had his "last meeting" — the day before he disappeared.
And he hadn't been with me.
He'd been watching me.
"Riven," I whispered, holding the photo. "He was stalking me."
Riven's brow furrowed. "There's a timestamp on the back."
He flipped it over.
10:42 AM — the day before Ryker vanished.
"That's the morning he said he was at the bank," I murmured.
Riven looked grim. "He lied."
There were more photos. One of me walking into a bookstore. One of me hugging my best friend Lana. Another of me asleep in my car after working late.
"Why would he take these?" I asked, voice shaking.
Riven didn't answer.
I knew why.
Because Ryker had been planning something for a long time. And I was part of it.
Not the center of his world like he'd once made me believe.
Just another pawn.
"Is there more?" I asked, setting the photos down.
Riven unlocked the fireproof box.
Inside was a sealed manila envelope. He passed it to me.
Hands trembling, I opened it — and pulled out a set of documents.
Fake IDs. One with Ryker's photo, under the name Nathan Hale.
A flight ticket to Argentina.
And a letter.
Not to me.
To Silas Thorne.
"Who's Silas?" I asked.
"My uncle," Riven said, voice cold. "And the one person who got kicked out of the company for fraud."
I blinked. "Why would Ryker be writing to him?"
Riven took the letter from me and read it.
Then he handed it back, expression unreadable.
Ryker had been collaborating with Silas. Planning to drain the company from within, then vanish with a new identity.
And he'd used me — his sweet, clueless fiancée — as part of the illusion.
So no one would suspect him.
I sat down on the metal bench in the corner, trying to catch my breath.
"You okay?" Riven asked, kneeling beside me.
I shook my head. "I don't even know who I was in love with."
He was quiet for a long time.
Then he said, "Neither do I."
---
That night, back at the penthouse, I couldn't sleep again.
I stared at the photo of myself Ryker had taken — that eerie, frozen moment I hadn't known was being watched.
And I realized something.
He'd always had secrets.
He just made me feel like I was the one who had something to prove.
I picked up my phone.
Me: What do you want from me, Ryker? Why drag me into this?
Still no reply.
But an hour later, a voicemail arrived.
A distorted voice — his voice — crackling through the static.
"You're in danger, Elara. Not from me. From them. Riven doesn't know everything. Be careful who you trust. I'm trying to fix this before it's too late."
Click.
I stared at the screen.
He was still watching.
Still playing.
And I was the piece he refused to let go.