[Sophie’s POV]

The weight of what we’re planning settles over me slowly, like snow accumulating on branches.

I need air, need space to process the scope of Lisette’s obsession and what it means for our family. The balcony off our bedroom has become my refuge during these final months of pregnancy—a small square of sky where I can breathe without the walls closing in. The apartment, despite its warmth and safety, feels suffocating right now, the walls pressing closer with every new revelation about the woman who’s been hunting Adrian for years.

The city sprawls below me, indifferent to my turmoil, and I grip the railing and let the cold air fill my lungs. The metal bites into my palms, sharp and grounding, a reminder that I’m still here, still standing. Maggie shifts inside me, responding to my elevated heartbeat with kicks that feel almost protective. Five months along now, and she’s making her presence known with increasing frequency. Each movement is a small miracle, a reminder of what we’re fighting for.

“You’re worried,” Cassian says, appearing beside me with the quiet grace that’s become so familiar. He doesn’t touch me yet, just stands close enough that I can feel his warmth against the January chill. His presence is a comfort I’ve come to depend on, steady and certain when everything else feels like quicksand.

“I’m always worried. It’s my natural state.” I keep my eyes on the skyline, watching the clouds drift across buildings that scrape the heavens. “But yes. This specifically. The scope of it, Cassian. She’s been doing this for years. Different people, different methods, but the same pattern. Adrian thought his career problems were bad luck. They were orchestrated by someone who’s made revenge into an art form.”

“I noticed that too.” He’s quiet for a moment, organizing his thoughts in that methodical way of his. The silence between us is comfortable, filled with unspoken understanding. “Three documented cases before Adrian. Possibly more. She’s careful—never leaves fingerprints, always maintains deniability. But the pattern is unmistakable once you see it.”

“And now she’s escalating. The subway encounter, the continued networking even after leaving Columbia.” I turn to face him, searching his features for the reassurance I need. His eyes are calm but serious, reflecting my own fears back at me along with something steadier—resolve. “She’s not going to stop, is she? Not until she’s destroyed him completely.”

“No. I don’t think she is.”

The confirmation of my fears should feel worse than it does. Instead, there’s something almost clarifying about it. We’re not fighting shadows anymore. We have a clear enemy with documented patterns of behavior. That’s information we can use. The terror is still there, coiled tight in my chest, but now it has a direction—a target instead of an endless void.

“Adrian’s been quiet since he finished reading the files,” I say. “Too quiet. That scares me more than if he were raging.”

“He’s planning.” Cassian’s expression shifts into something knowing. “I recognize the signs. When Adrian feels out of control, he finds ways to take control back. It’s how he’s wired.”

“Is that a good thing or a bad thing right now?”

“Depends on what he’s planning. But honestly? I think it might be exactly what he needs. He’s been a passive target for too long. Having a strategy, feeling like he’s fighting back—that could be healthier than continuing to absorb her attacks.”

VERIFYCAPTCHA_LABELVerify