chapter 4
1061 Words
Mia's fists clutched the steering wheel as she navigated the crowded traffic of the evening commute, her own heart still pounding from the assault. The calming rumble of the car engine should have been calming, the familiar streets of the city a soothing distraction. But her mind was a tangled tangle, battlefield of dread and panic and something very close to rage.
Grayson Vaughn had crossed a line.
His words still resonated in her head, polished and deliberate, but shaded with something unspoken.
"Who is Oliver's father?"
Mia's stomach twisted with pain.
She had stored that question away, secreted deep in the folds of her flawlessly constructed life, for six years. No one had ever questioned it. No one had ever bothered to ask.
But Grayson Vaughn was not nobody.
He was powerful, untamable, and—most terrifying of all—curious.
And curiosity was lethal.
She snatched a swift glance at Oliver in the rearview mirror. His small hands cradling his stuffed dinosaur, his little fingers tracing the seams as he stared out the window, unaware of his own little world.
Completely unaware of the war raging inside his mother.
"Mommy?"
Mia startled at the sound of his voice. She gasped, catching herself. "Yeah, baby?"
"Can we still get ice cream?" His voice held a note of innocent hope, his big eyes searching hers in the mirror.
Mia's heart constricted.
For him, it was just another ride home in the car. Just another vow of something sweet and simple.
For her, it was the beginning of something she couldn't grasp.
She smiled, though it seemed as fragile as paper. "Of course, sweetheart."
Ice cream.
Something mundane. Something terrestrial.
But as she came onto the highway, her hands on the steering wheel were still clenched, knuckles white.
Because no matter how hard she tried to convince herself otherwise…
Nothing was ever going to be normal again.
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Vaughn Tower – Grayson's Office
Grayson leaned against his highly polished mahogany desk, the city skyline's muted light stretching out beyond the floor-to-ceiling windows of his penthouse office. The waning daylight cast a golden glow over the highly polished surfaces, but he wasn't paying attention.
His icy blue eyes remained trained on the file before him, his expression unyielding, but there was a spark of something deadly simmering beneath.
Irritation.
He had been anticipating a complete history on Mia Carter—anticipated his investigator to leave him with a well-tied story, organized and sequential.
What he was holding in his hands was a puzzle with missing pieces.
No work records for the past six years.
No clear work history before that, only short-term work with no discernible trail.
Doctor visits with no actual explanations.
And then, the biggest discrepancy of all—
Oliver Carter's birth certificate.
No father's name.
Grayson's jaw clenched.
He hated loose ends.
Mia Carter was a paradox—famous but invisible. She resembled a woman who'd fought in a war, yet she glided with the elegance of one who wouldn't even acknowledge the scars of battle.
And her son…
His gaze flicked back to the paper, to the single, worthless line where a father's name would have appeared.
It was a dead end.
And he didn't handle dead ends.
She'd gazed up at him as if she was afraid. As if his very presence was an intruder.
That was not what usually happened.
Most individuals went out of their way to make a good impression on Grayson Vaughn.
Mia Carter had cut and run.
He smiled to himself, his fingers gliding across the phone.
To compose a short, effective message.
One sentence.
Unknown Number: We need to talk, Mia.
And then, he waited.
And Grayson Vaughn waited for nothing.
Mia's Apartment – Later That Evening
Mia flipped the deadbolt on the front door, securing it tight before resting her forehead against the cold of the wood.
Her heart still pounded.
She'd searched the apartment three times. Every lock. Every window. Even the hallway beyond. But the tension that haunted her like a ghost refused to let go.
She wasn't paranoid.
Grayson Vaughn had gotten too close today.
And she had no doubt that he was just getting started.
She turned and leaned against the door, inhaling deeply, counting her breaths, willing the panic to ease.
You’re safe. You’re safe.
But even as she repeated the words in her head, she didn’t believe them.
Not anymore.
The sudden buzz of her phone shattered the silence.
Mia flinched.
Her eyes snapped to the device on the counter, its screen glowing ominously in the dim light.
She didn’t want to look.
Didn’t need to.
She already knew.
Her pulse beat against her ribs as she moved slowly to grab the phone.
There was one message standing before her.
Unknown Number: We need to talk, Mia.
A chill ran down her spine.
He had tracked her down.
Of course he had.
Grayson Vaughn didn't let things go.
Her hands trembled as she put the phone on the counter. She took a step back, and then another, like the message itself was toxic.
He needed answers.
But he wasn't receiving them.
Not from her.
Not ever.
Mia swallowed hard, her hands rubbing up and down over her arms as she forced herself to breathe.
She'd lived for years keeping her life tiny. Controlled.
And in one moment, Grayson had come so close to unraveling it all.
She stepped into Oliver's room, pausing at the door.
His small frame was folded up under his blanket, his stuffed dinosaur crammed against his chest. His breathing was heavy and even, peaceful.
Mia's throat tightened.
She had fought for too long, sacrificed too much to protect him.
And she wasn't going to let anyone—not even Grayson Vaughn—make her do otherwise.
She marched back into the kitchen, grabbed her phone, and with a curt motion, powered it off.
Tonight, she wasn't going to let him in.
Tonight, she would pretend she was still in command.
But even as she climbed into bed, even as exhaustion pulled at her marrow, one stern reality remained in the back of her mind.
This isn't over.
And somehow, on some fundamental level, she knew…
Grayson Vaughn was not a man who accepted silence.
He would find her again.
And when he did, she might not have anywhere left to go.
- Writer
