BETRAYED,BROKEN BUT NOT DEFEATED

WHEN THE PAST KNOCKS

The morning after ,Isabella woke to an apartment that felt eerily quiet, a silence that pressed in on her. The usual city sounds, normally a dull drone, were unusually muted, almost nonexistent. Reed and Maya, the security detail assigned by Mr. Knight, checked in at her door, their presence a constant reminder of the threat that hung in the air.

While a part of her found their watchfulness comforting, another part felt suffocated. She forced herself to focus on her work, trying to bury herself in spreadsheets and reports, but the feeling of unease, of being watched, wouldn't dissipate.

Her phone vibrated once, an unknown number flashing on the screen. She hesitated, then quickly dismissed it. This time, however, there was no message. The feeling of being targeted grew stronger

Alexander sat in his imposing office, the air thick with the musty scent of aged paper and forgotten secrets. He was poring over the old files, documents relating to Blackridge Holdings, a defunct company and a painful scar on his family’s legacy. He ran a hand through his hair, the weight of the past settling on his shoulders.

The stalker's threats, cold and calculated, echoed the venomous words used years ago by a bitter rival, a man who had blamed Alexander for a tragic accident.

Ryan, his ever-present confidant, urged him to tell Isabella the truth, to unburden himself. Alexander, however, remained firm, a stoic mask in place. "She's already fighting her own ghosts, Ryan," he said quietly, the words a painful admission. "She doesn't need to carry mine."

Alexander contacted Isabella and arranged to meet her in the company lounge. The space was nearly empty, and they found a secluded table. They started with the Anderson Merger, discussing strategies and figures with professional detachment.

Their hands brushed as they exchanged papers, a brief, electric touch. Isabella saw the exhaustion etched onto Alexander’s face. The guarded strength and stoic nature she admired started to crumble before her eyes. The words felt like a tangible weight, heavy with untold burdens.

Gathering her nerve, she spoke her question, her voice quiet but direct, "You protect everyone, Alexander, but who protects you?" His gaze flickered with an unexpected intensity, and he immediately deflected, changing the subject. The question, however, remained, hanging between them like a forgotten melody.

Their quiet conversation was brutally shattered when security burst into the lounge, their faces grim. An emergency: Someone had managed to hack the building's main system, and Isabella's login had been used.

She was stunned, the shock of it all hitting her like a physical blow. Alexander immediately stepped forward, his protective instincts flaring, his voice a steely command as he defended her, demanding answers.

They reviewed the security footage, showing a blurred figure in a hooded jacket lurking near her desk. The person's face was obscured, hidden in shadows.

The only concrete clue: a pendant, dropped carelessly on the floor, a small, gleaming object that bore the unmistakable symbol of Blackridge Holding.

Alexander insisted on driving Isabella home, his concern evident in every line of his face. The rain began to fall, transforming the city lights into shimmering streaks that blurred across the windshield.

The intimacy of the enclosed space, combined with the sudden downpour, seemed to break down their defenses.

They talked, the conversation flowing more easily now, discussing trust, the possibility of starting over, and the transformative power of pain.

Isabella, looking out at the rain streaking down the glass, finally confessed, her voice a mere whisper, "For the first time, I'm not running anymore." Alexander's gaze met hers, and he answered, his voice filled with a depth of emotion she had rarely seen, "Then I'll make sure you never have to."

They stopped in front of Isabella's apartment building and took the elevetor to her apartment. Inside the elevetor everything was quiet except for the elevetors beeping sound .

The elevator doors slid open with a metallic sigh. Isabella stepped out first, clutching her bag to her chest. Alexander followed, his expression unreadable but his body coiled with quiet alertness. The hallway smelled faintly of rain and something else ,metallic, unsettled.

When she reached her door, her fingers hesitated on the knob. It was already half-turned.

“Stay behind me,” Alexander murmured.

He pushed the door open.

The apartment looked as though a storm had passed through it. Papers from her assignment scattered like fallen leaves across the floor, the lamp knocked over, curtains swaying from an open window that let in the hiss of city rain.

Isabella’s breath caught. “No… no, this can’t be happening.”

Alexander scanned the room with the precision of a soldier. Nothing stolen, just disturbed,as if whoever came wanted to send a message, not take anything. Then he saw it.

On the far wall, written in thick red marker:

“You can’t save her again, Knight.”

The words bled slightly where the ink met damp plaster.

Isabella turned toward him. “Again? What does that mean?”

Alexander didn’t answer. For the first time since she’d met him, the mask of control slipped. His jaw tightened, his eyes darkened with a memory she couldn’t see.

He stepped closer to the wall, fingertips grazing the edge of a letter. “He’s back,” he whispered. “I thought I buried this.”

“Who’s back?” she pressed.

He looked at her then, really looked, and the distance between them felt fragile, like glass about to shatter.

“The man who destroyed everything I once had,” he said quietly. “And now he’s coming for you… because of me.”

Lightning flashed outside, lighting the fear and resolve on both their faces. Alexander pulled his phone from his pocket, barking orders to Ryan to send a full protection team and lock down the building.

When he hung up, Isabella was still watching him. “You’re shaking,” she said softly.

He tried to smile. “I’m not afraid for myself.”

She stepped forward, touching his sleeve. “Then for who?”

His gaze met hers, steady, fierce, a silent promise. “You.”

The sound of sirens grew faintly in the distance, but neither of them moved. The past Alexander had spent years outrunning had just found its way to Isabella’s door, and neither knew what it would cost to face it.