The first sign that something had shifted came with a woman.
She arrived quietly—too quietly for someone who didn't belong.
Ife noticed her first.
They were at a small restaurant Victor had approved after three different security checks. Arden sat across from Ife, sleeves rolled up, posture relaxed in a way she rarely saw anymore. He was smiling at something she'd said, eyes warm, unguarded.
That was when the woman approached their table.
"Arden Blackwood," she said, her accent smooth, practiced. "I hoped I'd find you."
Arden stiffened.
Ife felt it instantly.
He looked up, surprise flickering before control snapped back into place. "Clara."
Clara smiled—slow, knowing. She was beautiful in the effortless way wealth and confidence shaped people. Her eyes lingered on Arden a moment too long before sliding to Ife.
"And you are…?" she asked politely.
Ife returned the smile. "The woman sitting with him."
The pause was brief but sharp.
Clara laughed lightly. "Of course. I didn't realize."
"That makes two of us," Ife replied.
Arden cleared his throat. "Clara, this isn't—"
"I know," Clara interrupted gently. "Bad timing. I won't stay long."
She leaned closer, lowering her voice. "Your father sent me."
That got Arden's attention.
Victor shifted subtly nearby.
Clara straightened. "Be careful, Arden. The board is moving pieces faster than expected."
Then she looked at Ife again—curious now. Measuring.
"Take care of him," she said.
And just like that, she was gone.
The silence that followed was thick.
"You know her," Ife said calmly.
"Yes," Arden replied.
"You didn't tell me."
"No," he admitted.
She nodded slowly. "Is she…?"
He shook his head immediately. "No. She's from my past, but not like that."
The lie wasn't in his words.
It was in his hesitation.
Ife felt it.
"I don't need to know everything," she said softly. "But I won't compete with ghosts."
Arden reached for her hand. "You're not."
She let him hold it—but the warmth felt different now. Fragile.
That night, temptation arrived dressed as doubt.
Ife stood on the balcony later, staring out at the city lights, trying to steady her thoughts. Arden joined her quietly.
"You're quiet," he said.
"I'm thinking."
"That usually means trouble."
She smiled faintly. "Do you miss your old life?"
He didn't answer immediately.
"Yes," he said finally. "Sometimes."
Her chest tightened.
"Do you miss the women in it?"
He turned fully to her. "No."
She studied his face, searching for cracks.
"I don't want to be something temporary," she said. "Something you cling to while hiding."
He stepped closer. "You're not temporary."
"Then don't treat me like a shelter," she whispered. "Treat me like a choice."
He cupped her face gently. "You are my choice."
She believed him.
That was the dangerous part.
The danger came the next morning.
Arden was out—briefly, carefully—when Victor's voice crackled urgently through the apartment.
"Ife. You need to move. Now."
Her heart slammed. "What's happening?"
"We lost eyes on a vehicle."
She didn't argue. She grabbed her bag and headed for the back exit.
She didn't see the man until he stepped into her path.
"You shouldn't be alone," he said calmly.
Her pulse roared in her ears.
"You shouldn't be here," she replied.
He smiled. "Neither should he."
Before she could react, hands grabbed her arm—firm but not violent.
Then chaos.
A shout. A crash. Arden's voice—raw, furious.
"LET HER GO."
The man released her instantly as Arden lunged forward. Victor's men appeared like shadows, weapons drawn, voices sharp and controlled.
The man backed away, smiling even as he disappeared into the crowd.
"They're testing boundaries," Victor said grimly. "And yours."
Ife shook in Arden's arms afterward.
Not from fear.
From adrenaline. From realization.
"They used me," she said quietly.
Arden held her tighter. "They won't again."
She pulled back to look at him. "You can't promise that."
"I can promise I won't stop choosing you."
Her breath caught.
She kissed him then—fierce, desperate, real.
The world could wait.
Later, wrapped together in the quiet aftermath, Ife traced circles on Arden's chest.
"Your past will always exist," she said. "So will the danger."
He nodded. "And you?"
"I'm here," she said simply. "Not because I'm safe. But because I'm sure."
He kissed her hair, holding her like something sacred.
Love, Arden realized, wasn't just about tenderness.
It was about standing still while everything tried to pull you apart.
And choosing not to let go.