The house was silent. Too silent.
Aira locked her bedroom door quietly, the soft metallic click offering her a fleeting, fragile sense of control. Her heart thudded violently against her ribs, but her mind was already racing ahead—he can’t be watching me every single second, right?
Her phone vibrated in her palm. Unknown Number.
She hesitated, her thumb hovering over the screen, before pressing it to her ear.
"Aira? It’s me."
Her stomach dropped into a abyss.
"Reyan?" she whispered, taking a cautious step closer to the window. "Why are you calling from a new number? What if he—"
"Listen to me," her ex-fiancé’s voice came through, low and urgent. "I found someone who can help us. There’s an investigative journalist who wants to bring Dominic down. We just need proof. Anything—documen
