chapter 5
1092 Words
Mia slept barely at all that night.
She'd turned over, turned, and then lain quietly for a while, her mind churning overtime with images of Grayson Vaughn, of his stern gaze, his taciturn but unnerving resolve. Every time she allowed her eyes to close, she could see him—standing in the hospital, his eyes locking onto hers with an unstated promise she couldn't grasp but was scared nonetheless.
Before morning had fully broken, her muscles ached with exhaustion, but she forced herself to rise. She needed to make it through this. She needed to pretend that everything was all right, though she was a deer in a hunter's sights.
By the time Oliver roused, bounding with morning enthusiasm, she had showered, cooked breakfast, and applied a smile.
"Good morning, Mommy!" he declared cheerfully, scrunching sleepy eyes as he climbed up onto a chair.
Mia pushed his tousled hair out of his face, bestowing a quick kiss on his forehead. "Good morning, lovebug. Have a breakfast, okay?"
As Oliver shoveled his pancakes, she topped off her coffee, hoping the caffeine would shake her out of the unhappy fog surrounding her brain.
Then—buzz.
Her phone sitting on the counter buzzed.
Mia froze, her fingers curled around the ceramic mug.
She didn't have to see to know who it was.
Her hands crept across the bed to the phone slowly, her heart pounding against her ribcage.
Unknown Number: You left me hanging, Mia. That was not smart.
Her insides churned.
She swallowed heavily, her fingers squeezing the phone tighter. She should delete. Block the number. But nothing would be altered.
Grayson Vaughn wasn't a man to be ignored.
And something was cautioning her that ignoring him had only made him more dogged.
Unknown Number: We need to talk. I'll be at the café on Fifth Street at noon.
Mia breathed unsteadily.
She made a decision. She could act as though she never got the messages, keep Oliver close to her, and go on with her life as though Grayson Vaughn never existed.
Or—
She could find out what he really wanted.
What he really knew.
A knocking on the door shook her out of her whirling mind.
She turned around, her body rigid.
Nobody ever came to her apartment unannounced.
Her heart pounding, she inched up to the door. She peered through the peephole—
And relief enveloped her.
Rachel.
Mia breathed out shakily before opening the door.
Rachel stepped in, her piercing gaze at once searching Mia's face. "Okay, what's going on?"
Mia stalled. "What do you mean?"
Rachel glared at her. "Don't play stupid, Mia. You look like you haven't slept in days. And you've got the something's wrong, but I won't say anything look."
Mia breathed out.
Rachel had always had a good intuition.
With a final look back at Oliver—still happily masticating his pancakes—she pulled Rachel into the cramped corridor.
She sucked in a lungful of air. "It's Grayson Vaughn."
Rachel's eyebrows arched. "The hospital guy?"
Mia nodded. "He—he messaged me. He wants to see me."
Rachel's expression contorted. "Mia… that does not sound good."
"It's not," Mia conceded. "He was asking, Rach. About Oliver. About his father."
Rachel's mouth firmed. "Do you think he suspects?"
Mia shook her head. "No. But he suspects something."
Rachel exhaled. "And now he wants to meet?"
"At twelve."
"Are you going?"
Mia frowned. "I don't know."
Rachel folded her hands, her voice firm. "Mia, listen to me. You've worked years ensuring that no one could follow your history. If this man is snooping around—if he's asking questions—you have to be careful."
Mia swallowed hard, agreeing. "I know. But if I just avoid him, he'll try harder."
Rachel studied her for a long time before answering. Then, with a deep breath, "Then you don't go alone."
Mia blinked. "What?"
“I’ll be there,” Rachel said. “I won’t sit with you, but I’ll be watching.”
Warmth spread through Mia’s chest, gratitude swelling. “Thank you.”
Rachel nodded. “Just be careful.”
Mia exhaled.
Careful.
That was the only way she had survived this long.
But deep down, she had a sinking feeling—
No amount of caution could stop a man like Grayson Vaughn.
---
Fifth Street Café – Noon
Mia pushed open the doors of the café, her heart a sluggish thud against her ribcage. The air clung to her nose with the scent of new coffee, but her stomach churned too tightly with nervousness to appreciate it.
Her eyes surveyed the room.
And then she spotted him.
Grayson Vaughn leaned back in a corner booth, dressed in a black suit, with an aura of effortless power. His position was loose, but there was nothing loose about the way he looked at her.
Like a hunter tracking prey.
Mia shrugged her shoulders back, calling up every remaining bit of control she had.
She was not going to let him see she was scared.
She floated across the room, sliding into the chair across from him. "You have five minutes," she said to him, her voice firm.
Grayson's lips curled upward, amusement dancing in his eyes. "Punctual. I approve."
Mia shoved aside the feeling of his voice sending a shiver down her spine. "What do you want?"
Grayson leaned forward, his forearms resting on the table. "Answers."
Mia bristled. "There's nothing to answer."
He tilted his head. "No?"
The silence between them became, thick and strained.
Then—Grayson pulled out a crumpled piece of paper from his jacket pocket and placed it on the table.
Mia's breathing halted.
Her fingers flew, but she didn't move.
"What is that?" she breathed.
Grayson's eyes imprisoned hers as he slid the paper across the table. "Your past, Mia."
Ice trickled down her spine.
Her fists tightened under the table.
She didn't want to touch it.
Did not want to know what he had found.
But slowly—painfully—she extended her hand, trembling as she unfolded the page.
Her stomach dropped.
It was a report.
Her entire life laid out in black and white.
Mia's heart pounded so hard she could barely hear herself breathe.
"I told you," Grayson said, his voice low, colored with something unreadable.
Mia's heart stopped, horror creeping up her throat.
He knew.
He knew.
And as she gazed up at his expressionless eyes, one horrifying thought hit her—
Her secret was no longer a secret.
And there was nowhere left to hide.
- Writer
