There were rules.

I built them like walls around myself, stacked them like stone.

Don’t get attached.

Don’t dig too deep.

Don’t want what doesn’t want you.

Then Elena Rivers walked into my life like she was made to destroy every last one of them.

I sat in the backseat of my car, engine silent, parked two blocks away from her apartment. I’d watched her walk up the steps twenty minutes ago—coat wrapped around her, chin tilted like she was keeping the world at bay.

She didn’t see me.

She never did. And it was starting to make me restless.

I had her file. Her schedule. Access to her calls. But it wasn’t enough. It never was. I didn’t want details—I wanted depth. I wanted to know what kept her up at night. What she whispered into her pillow when no one was listening. What broke her. What made her.

I unlocked my phone and pulled up the footage.

A small camera—installed discreetly, weeks ago, tucked into the hallway light fixture outside her door—offered me a glimpse. Nothing invasive. Not yet. Just enough to know when she came home. Who she saw. Who she let in.

Tonight, it was no one.

She was alone.

I should’ve felt relief.

But I didn’t.

I wanted to be the exception to her isolation. The name she didn’t delete. The knock she opened the door for.

I closed my eyes, jaw tight.

I didn’t used to be like this.

Before her, I was composed. Cold, yes. But calculated. I didn’t feel anything unless I allowed it.

But Elena…

She made me reckless in silence. She made me care. Not in the way people write poems about—but in the way that made me want to burn down every wall she hid behind just to feel her breathe in my direction.

My assistant, Lucas, called.

I answered with a clipped “What.”

“She’s clean,” he said. “No ties. No relationships. A few concerned friends. That Maya girl keeps checking in.”

“She’ll stop eventually,” I muttered.

“She’s not the problem.”

“I never said she was.”

I hung up. Stared at my reflection in the window. I looked composed. Wealthy. Calm. Exactly how the world saw me.

But inside—I was splintering.

Earlier today, Elena had walked past me like I was a ghost. Like what we were building—what I was building—didn’t exist.

But I saw it. I felt it.

The pause in her breath when I got too close. The flicker in her eyes when she thought I wasn’t watching. The ache in her silence.

She was fighting herself.

And I could be patient.

Until I couldn’t.

I leaned forward and whispered to the dark window, not sure if I was talking to her or myself.

“You don’t need to let me in, Elena. I’ll find a way anyway.”

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