The house started rotting from the inside.
Tom felt it first.
It was subtle — doors left unlocked, lights on where no one had been, the quiet pressure of being watched in his own home. Andrea never moved when he was looking.
Only when he wasn't.
Bill noticed the shift. Georg did too. Gustav stopped sleeping altogether.
Andrea spoke less.
Observed more.
And Tom?Tom started drinking before noon.
1 — THE HOUSE TURNS
It began with Bill.
He brought her water. Sat on the step across from her, careful not to crowd.
"You're not chained anymore," he said.
Andrea glanced at her wrists. Free. Red marks fading.
"You noticed," she replied.
"You let him unlock you," Bill said. Not a question.
Andrea smiled faintly. "He needed to believe it was his choice."
Bill exhaled slowly. "Jesus."
"You don't have to be afraid of me," Andrea added. "You already chose."
That night, Georg heard Andrea walking upstairs.
He didn't stop her.
Gustav pretended not to see her in the kitchen at 3 a.m., calmly washing blood from her knuckles that didn't belong to her.
By morning, Tom realized the truth:
He was the only one still pretending he was in control.
2 — THE SIRENS
The knock came at 6:42 a.m.
Not paparazzi.
Police.
Tom's blood ran cold.
Andrea was already standing behind him when he opened the door.
She placed a hand on his shoulder.
Gentle.
"Let me," she whispered.
Two officers froze when they saw her.
Alive. Calm. Infamous.
"We received reports of—"
"She's here voluntarily," Andrea said smoothly. "I wasn't abducted."
Tom stared at her, shocked.
"She's been helping me," Andrea continued. "I needed somewhere safe."
The officers hesitated.
Andrea met their eyes — steady, unflinching.
"You can search the house," she offered. "You won't find anything you didn't already imagine."
They left twenty minutes later.
Tom collapsed into a chair.
"You didn't have to do that," he whispered.
Andrea crouched in front of him.
"I did," she said. "Because I don't destroy people who cage me out of fear."
Her voice dropped.
"Only the ones who enjoy it."
3 — TORY'S VOICE
Andrea found the note tucked into her jacket pocket later.
No signature.
Just three words:
You're staying still.
Andrea laughed softly.
That night, her phone buzzed — an unknown number.
Tory's voice slid through the line like a blade.
"You always did like cages," Tory said. "Gave you something to push against."
"Berlin's too small for you," Andrea replied.
"And yet," Tory purred, "you're still there."
Andrea's fingers tightened.
"Touch anyone in this city," Andrea said quietly, "and I'll finish what Atlanta started."
Tory hummed. "You already chose violence again. You're just pretending it's restraint."
The line went dead.
Andrea stood very still.
Then she smiled.
4 — THE ESCAPE (ON HER TERMS)
Andrea didn't run.
She packed.
Folded clothes. Cleaned the kitchen. Left keys on the counter.
Tom woke to silence.
He found her at the door.
"You're leaving," he said hoarsely.
Andrea nodded. "You did what you could."
"And?" he asked.
She stepped close.
"This is where it ends for you," she said gently. "If you follow me… it won't."
Tom's voice broke. "I loved you."
Andrea looked at him — really looked.
"I know," she said. "That's why I didn't kill you."
She walked out.
No chase.
No explosion.
Just the sound of a door closing — and a man realizing survival doesn't mean innocence.
EPILOGUE — THE MYTH
Andrea Johnson was seen again that week.
At a train station.
At a river.
At dawn.
Paparazzi photographed from across streets.
Fans argued.
Enemies whispered.
Sam watched the footage in Atlanta, tears in her eyes.
"She chose," Sam said quietly. "That's what scares me."
Tory watched too.
Smiling.
Because Andrea wasn't hiding anymore.
She was moving.
And somewhere between restraint and ruin, Andrea Johnson had become something worse than a monster.
She became a decision.