s glance, every footstep behind her feels like a warning. By the time she reaches the café, her hands are cold, her nerves frayed. She forces herself to breathe, to move as if today is just anot

sip, his eyes never leaving her. Then, just as he turns to leave, he murmurs, "I'll see you soon, Chloe." And with that, he walks out, leaving her standing there, her knees weak, her breath shaky. The second he's gone, she grips the counter for support, forcing air into her lungs. He knows. Maybe not everything. Maybe not yet. But he suspects something. And if she isn't careful, if she makes even the smallest mistake- Nicholas Romanov Fortune will find out exactly who she is. And then? She won't get another chance to run. She forces herself to breathe, to focus, but it's like trying to hold onto a fleeting dream as it slips further away with each passing second. She doesn't even realize she's still gripping the counter until her fingers begin to tingle with the absence of movement. She slowly releases her hold, her palms now slick with sweat. The café feels quieter now, emptier, even though it's still full of the usual hum of customers and the smell of freshly brewed coffee. But to Chloe, it's all just noise-distracting her from the thought that is echoing through her mind like a drumbeat. Nicholas knows. And she knows, with a sickening certainty, that he's not going to stop. He's playing a game. And she's in the middle of it. She tries to shake off the panic creeping up her spine. This isn't the time to lose control. The day isn't over yet, and she can't let her fear show. Her mother comes over, glancing at her with concern. "Chloe, are you okay? You look pale." Chloe forces a smile, masking the storm inside her. "Just tired, I guess. Late night." Her mother studies her for a moment, but then nods and walks away, leaving Chloe alone with her thoughts. The rest of the shift goes by in a blur, the minutes stretching into hours. Her hands move on autopilot, making coffee, wiping tables, taking orders. But her mind is elsewhere, trapped in a loop of questions, fears, and the nagging suspicion that every action she takes is being watched. She forces herself to focus. Don't let him get inside your head, Chloe. Not yet. Not until you have a plan. The café empties out, and she's left cleaning up. By the time the last customer leaves, it's dark outside. The quiet of the café feels oppressive, like the calm before a storm. When the final door closes behind her, she leans against the counter, exhausted in body and soul. Tomorrow. Nicholas will be back tomorrow. Chloe grabs her bag and heads for the door, the familiar chill of the evening air hitting her face as she steps outside. The bus stop is just a short walk away, and she wraps her coat tighter around her as she moves briskly, wanting to get home as quickly as possible. The streets are quieter now, the world around her oblivious to the internal chaos she's drowning in. Each step feels like a countdown. What happens when he finds out? The question gnaws at her as she boards the bus. Her hands grip the railing, her mind spiraling. She tries to push thoughts of Nicholas aside, but they keep creeping back, his dark eyes, the way he made her feel as though he could see straight through her. Chloe stumbled into her apartment, the weight of the day-of Nicholas's lingering presence and the suffocating dread of what might come-crashing down on her. She barely managed to lock the door behind her before she sought refuge in the one place where she could finally be alone: the bathroom. The