Chapter4
1035 Words
Liora
I did not sleep.
Every creak of the old building sent me to the window. The alley behind the bakery stayed empty under the single streetlight, yet the second message from Cassian burned behind my eyes. Someone had tried to climb through the rear window twenty minutes after I left the restaurant. He had known before I did.
At dawn I went downstairs. Dad was already in the kitchen firing the ovens. The back door stood open to the alley for the morning delivery. I stepped outside barefoot and stopped.
Fresh scuff marks the brick beneath the high rear window. A small piece of black fabric had caught on the rough edge of the sill. I pulled it free. Coarse. Heavy. The same kind of material the bulky man had worn.
Dad appeared behind me, wiping his hands on a towel. “What is it?”
I closed my fist around the cloth. “Nothing. Just checking the locks.”
He frowned, but the timer on the oven pulled him back inside. I slipped the fabric into my pocket and returned upstairs. The contract was supposed to protect us. Marcus had promised the threats would stop. Cassian’s message said otherwise.
My phone rang while I was still staring at the piece of cloth. Unknown number. I answered.
“Miss Hale.” A man’s voice, smooth and controlled. Not Cassian. “This is Rylan Crowe. I work for Mr. Voss. A security detail will arrive at your family’s bakery within the hour. They will remain until the wedding. Do not refuse them.”
“Who tried to break in last night?”
Silence stretched for two heartbeats. “We are handling it.”
“That is not an answer.”
“It is the only one you will receive for now. Be ready. The men will introduce themselves as bakery consultants. Your parents do not need details.”
The call ended.
Forty minutes later, two men in plain clothes walked into the shop carrying toolboxes. They spoke quietly to Dad about updating the wiring and the locks. Mum offered them coffee. I watched from the doorway as one of them checked every window and the other installed something small and dark above the back door. Neither looked at me directly, yet I felt their attention like a weight.
By noon, the bakery felt different. Safer on the surface. More like a cage underneath.
I could not stay inside. I told Mum I needed air and walked the three blocks to the small park at the end of the street. The air was cool. Children played near the fountain. I sat on a bench and tried to slow my breathing.
A shadow fell across the grass.
Cassian Voss stood three steps away, hands in the pockets of a black coat. No car in sight. No bodyguards visible. He looked as if he had simply appeared.
“You left the bakery,” he said.
“I needed to think.”
“Thinking is free. Wandering alone while someone is testing your windows is not.” He sat on the opposite end of the bench, leaving a careful space between us. “Rylan told me you asked questions.”
“I found proof that someone tried to get in. You already knew. I want to know why the threats continue after I signed.”
Cassian’s gaze stayed on the children near the fountain. “Because the people who want to hurt my father do not care about contracts. They care about leverage. You are leveraged now. That makes your family a target until the marriage is public and irreversible.”
“So I am bait.”
“You are a shield.” His voice stayed flat. “Once you carry the Voss name, the cost of touching you rises high enough that most enemies will choose another route. Until then, we keep you breathing.”
I turned to face him fully. “And after five years?”
He finally looked at me. The slate eyes held no apology. “After five years, you will be wealthy enough to disappear if you wish. That is more than most people in your position ever receive.”
The honesty was brutal. It was also the first time he had spoken to me without the distance of a dinner table or a text message.
A gust of wind lifted a strand of my hair. Cassian’s attention flicked to it, then away.
“There is something else,” he said. “The man who tried the window last night left a message under the sill. My people removed it before your father opened the shop. It was addressed to you.”
My pulse kicked. “What did it say?”
Cassian reached into his coat and drew out a folded square of paper. He did not hand it over immediately.
“Read it when you are alone. Then decide how much truth you can carry.”
He stood. The black coat settled around him like a second skin.
“The car will collect you at six tomorrow. We have an appointment with the family lawyer to finalize the prenuptial details. Do not be late.”
He walked away without waiting for an answer. I watched until he turned the corner and vanished.
Only then did I unfold the paper.
The handwriting matched the earlier note.
*She is not who they told you she is. Ask Cassian about the night the real Liora Hale died. *
The surrounding park went silent.
I read the sentence again. Then a third time.
The real Liora Hale.
My name. My identity.
And according to the note, I was already dead.
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