Claimed by the Rejected Author

Chapter Four: A Dangerous Alliance

The anonymous note stayed in my purse all night.

Some stories are better left unfinished.

The words echoed in my mind long after I returned home. I locked every window, checked the front door twice, and still couldn't shake the feeling that someone was watching me.

A sharp knock startled me the next morning.

My pulse raced until I looked through the peephole.

Ethan.

I hesitated before opening the door just enough to see him.

"What are you doing here?"

"I need five minutes."

"I don't think that's a good idea."

"I know you don't trust me," he said evenly. "But after what happened yesterday, this isn't about us anymore."

His expression was serious—gone was the confident businessman I'd once known.

Reluctantly, I stepped aside.

He entered without a word, placing a small folder on the coffee table.

"I had my security team investigate the bookstore incident."

I folded my arms.

"And?"

"The bookshelf didn't fall by accident."

A chill crept over me.

"It was tampered with before the event."

My stomach tightened.

"So someone planned it."

He nodded.

"And the security cameras captured the same woman you noticed leaving."

"Vanessa."

"You know her name?"

"I heard it at the gala."

Ethan took a slow breath.

"Vanessa Moretti is the daughter of a powerful media investor. She doesn't like losing."

"Losing what?"

His eyes met mine.

"She wanted an exclusive contract with your publisher. When you refused every public appearance for years, she couldn't profit from your image. Now that you've revealed yourself, she sees you as an opportunity."

"Or a threat."

"Exactly."

Before I could reply, my phone buzzed.

It was Martin.

"Elena, don't panic," he said the moment I answered. "Someone leaked your home address online. We've asked the websites to remove it, but reporters are already gathering outside."

I hurried to the window.

Three news vans were parked across the street.

Several photographers stood on the sidewalk.

And farther back...

A black SUV.

My heart skipped.

The same SUV I'd seen outside the bookstore.

"They found me," I whispered.

Ethan walked to the window beside me, his face darkening.

"You can't stay here."

"I won't run."

"I'm not asking you to run." His voice softened. "I'm asking you to stay alive."

For a long moment, I stared at the crowd below.

Everything I'd worked for was beginning to crumble under the weight of unwanted attention.

Finally, I nodded.

"Just until we know who's behind this."

Ethan released a quiet breath of relief.

"I'll make sure you're safe."

As they left through the building's private exit, neither of them noticed a camera lens hidden inside the parked SUV.

Someone snapped a photograph of Elena climbing into Ethan's car.

Within minutes, the image was sent to Vanessa.

She smiled as she looked at the screen.

"Perfect," she murmured.

"If they want to rewrite their love story..."

She set her phone down.

"I'll make sure it ends in tragedy."

Ethan's car pulled away from the apartment building just as another wave of camera flashes erupted behind them.

I sank into the passenger seat, keeping my head low.

"I never wanted any of this," I murmured.

"You wanted to write," Ethan replied, his eyes fixed on the road. "You didn't ask to become a target."

The silence between us was no longer filled with anger. Instead, it carried the weight of questions neither of us was ready to answer.

Twenty minutes later, the gates of the Blackwood estate slid open.

The mansion was elegant without being ostentatious, surrounded by towering trees and guarded by a state-of-the-art security system.

"This place looks more like a fortress than a home," I said.

"It has to be."

A middle-aged woman greeted them at the front entrance.

"Welcome home, Mr. Blackwood," she said before turning to Elena with a warm smile. "You must be Miss Hart. I'm Margaret, the housekeeper."

"It's nice to meet you."

Margaret led Elena to a bright guest suite overlooking the gardens.

"If you need anything at all, just ask."

"Thank you."

When the door closed, Elena finally allowed herself to breathe.

She walked to the window.

For the first time in days, there were no reporters.

No cameras.

No strangers watching her every move.

Yet she couldn't shake the feeling that danger hadn't disappeared—it had only changed location.

Across town, Vanessa sat in her office, the photograph of Ethan and Elena spread across her desk.

"So," she said, tapping the image with a manicured finger, "he's protecting her."

Her assistant nodded.

"It seems they're staying together."

Vanessa smiled coldly.

"Good."

The assistant frowned.

"Good?"

"The closer they become, the easier it will be to destroy them both."

She reached for another file.

"Dig into Elena Hart's past. Friends. Family. Anyone she cares about."

"And if we find someone?"

Vanessa's smile widened.

"Everyone has a weakness."

That evening, Elena wandered into the mansion's library.

Floor-to-ceiling shelves lined the walls, filled with novels from every genre imaginable.

Her gaze settled on a familiar spine.

One of her own books.

Then another.

And another.

An entire shelf was devoted to E. Vale.

"You kept them."

She turned to find Ethan standing in the doorway.

"I bought every edition," he admitted.

"I never expected that."

"I believed in your stories."

Elena looked at him, sadness flickering across her face.

"I just wish you'd believed in me."

Ethan had no answer.

The truth was simple—and painful.

He hadn't.

And now he would have to prove, through actions rather than words, that he was no longer the man who had broken her heart.

Outside the mansion, hidden beyond the gates, a pair of binoculars glinted in the fading evening light.

Someone was watching.

And they weren't planning to leave anytime soon.