The message did not leave Adrian's mind.
It sat there, heavy and sharp, like a stone lodged beneath his ribs.
We know where she lives.
He replayed it in his head as he walked Lena to her door, as she unlocked it, as she turned to face him beneath the dim hallway light.
She looked calm.
That scared him more than panic would have.
"You're thinking too loudly," she said.
He blinked. "What?"
"Your face," she clarified. "It does that when you're trying to solve something alone."
He exhaled slowly. "I didn't want to bring it into your space."
She studied him for a long moment, then unlocked the door fully and stepped aside.
"Then don't stand outside it," she said. "Come in."
Inside, the apartment felt smaller than it had the night before. Or maybe the threat had expanded, filling the corners with unease.
Lena set her keys down carefully, deliberately. Normal actions. Grounding ones.
"Sit," she said, nodding toward the couch.
He did.
She didn't join him immediately. Instead, she poured two glasses of water, her movements steady, her hands not shaking even though her shoulders were tense.
She handed him one and sat across from him, knees tucked beneath her.
"Now," she said. "Tell me exactly what the message said."
He hesitated.
She raised an eyebrow. "Honesty, remember?"
He handed her the phone.
She read it once.
Then again.
Her jaw tightened, but she didn't look away.
"They didn't ask for anything," she said.
"Not yet."
"That's what worries you," she observed.
"Yes."
She leaned back, staring at the ceiling.
"People like this," she said slowly, "they want control more than results."
He watched her carefully. "You've thought about this before."
"I've lived quietly," she replied. "Women learn how danger works long before it announces itself."
The truth of that sat heavy between them.
"I won't let this escalate," he said. "I'll increase security. Quietly. No headlines."
She nodded. "That's fine."
Then she added, "But you're staying here tonight."
He stiffened. "Lena—"
"This isn't about romance," she cut in. "This is about not being alone when something tries to make you feel small."
He searched her face.
"You're not scared?" he asked.
"I am," she admitted. "But fear doesn't get to isolate me anymore."
He swallowed. "I don't want to turn your home into a fortress."
"I don't want to turn my life into a hiding place," she replied. "We adapt. We don't retreat."
For a moment, he saw it clearly.
This was why he'd fallen.
Not softness.
Strength without spectacle.
The night passed lightly.
Not with sleep.
With listening.
Every sound in the hallway felt louder. Every car outside lingered too long.
Adrian stayed awake on the couch, eyes open, senses tuned.
Lena eventually slept in her room, the door cracked open, light spilling faintly into the living room.
At some point near dawn, exhaustion pulled him under.
He dreamed of glass walls breaking.
Morning arrived with a knock.
Sharp. Sudden.
Adrian was on his feet instantly, heart pounding.
"Adrian," Lena called softly from the bedroom. "It's okay. I hear it too."
Another knock.
"Lena? It's Mrs. Adebayo."
Adrian exhaled slowly.
Lena opened the door, relief softening her features.
Her neighbor stood there holding a small plate covered with foil.
"I made too much breakfast," she said simply. "Thought you might need it."
Lena smiled, genuine this time.
"Thank you," she said. "That's kind."
The woman glanced past her, eyes landing on Adrian. Curious, but not invasive.
"Your friend?" she asked.
Lena didn't hesitate. "Yes."
The word settled something inside him.
By midmorning, the story had shifted again.
Adrian saw it before Lena did.
A new headline. Different tone.
Billionaire's Silence Sparks Concern Over Corporate Stability.
No mention of Lena.
No photos.
Just pressure.
Claire called an hour later.
"They're spooked," she said. "Investors want reassurance."
"I stepped down temporarily," he replied. "That should buy time."
"It did," she said. "But they're asking what happens if temporary becomes permanent."
Adrian looked across the room at Lena, who was watering the small plant by the window, humming softly under her breath.
"I don't know yet," he said. "And I won't pretend I do."
"That's dangerous," Claire warned.
"So is lying," he replied.
She sighed. "I'll handle what I can."
After the call, he didn't move for a long moment.
"You're drifting," Lena said without turning.
He smiled faintly. "Still thinking too loudly?"
She nodded.
"Come with me to the café," she said.
"I thought you wanted me to stay away today."
"I want you present," she corrected. "Not hidden."
He hesitated. "With the message—"
"I won't let fear rewrite my routines," she said. "Neither should you."
The café was quieter than usual.
Not empty.
Just cautious.
A few regulars greeted Lena warmly. Others watched from a distance, unsure.
Adrian sat at the back, facing the door.
Protective without being obvious.
Halfway through the morning, a woman approached the counter.
She was young. Early twenties maybe. Nervous energy clinging to her like static.
"Can I talk to you?" she asked Lena.
Lena nodded. "Of course."
The woman glanced back at Adrian, then leaned closer.
"I just wanted to say," she whispered, "thank you."
Lena blinked. "For what?"
"For not pretending," the woman said. "My dad works in finance. I've seen men ruin families for less than honesty."
Lena felt something tighten in her chest.
"Thank you for saying that," she replied softly.
The woman smiled and left.
Adrian watched it all from his seat, something loosening inside him.
Not everyone was watching to tear them apart.
Some were watching to see if it could be done differently.
The twist came just after noon.
Two men entered the café.
Not regulars.
Not press.
They didn't order.
They didn't sit.
They just stood near the door, scanning the room.
Adrian's instincts flared.
Lena noticed immediately.
She caught his eye.
He stood slowly, deliberately, and moved closer to the counter.
The taller man stepped forward.
"Ms. Lena," he said calmly. "We need to speak with you."
Her pulse spiked. "About what?"
"Your safety," the man replied. "And his."
Adrian stepped in front of her without thinking.
She placed a hand on his arm.
"Let them talk," she said quietly.
The man raised his hands. "We're not here to threaten. We're here to warn."
"About the message," Adrian said.
The man nodded once.
"It wasn't an empty scare," he said. "Someone is trying to leverage proximity. Not ideology. Not money."
Lena's stomach dropped. "Who?"
The man shook his head. "Not someone who wants attention. Someone who wants access."
Silence fell like a weight.
"You should leave the café for a few days," the man continued. "Public places make patterns easy."
Lena's chest tightened.
"This place is my life," she said.
"And that's exactly why it's vulnerable," he replied.
Adrian turned to her, panic sharp in his eyes.
She met it head-on.
"No," she said.
The men exchanged a look.
"You're refusing protection," one said.
"No," Lena corrected. "I'm refusing disappearance."
The man studied her, then nodded.
"Then adapt," he said. "Because this isn't about headlines anymore."
They left without another word.
That night, Lena closed the café early again.
She hated it.
But she was learning the difference between surrender and strategy.
Back at her apartment, she sat on the couch, knees pulled to her chest.
"This is getting real," she said quietly.
"It always was," Adrian replied.
She looked at him.
"I don't know how to do this forever."
"You don't have to," he said. "Just today."
She breathed out slowly.
Then, "What if loving you puts a target on my life?"
The question wasn't dramatic.
It was practical.
Adrian moved closer, voice low.
"Then I'll spend the rest of mine making sure it never defines you."
She leaned into him, forehead against his shoulder.
Outside, a car idled too long before driving away.
Inside, two people sat with fear between them—
not running,
not pretending,
just holding the truth steady enough to survive it.
But somewhere beyond the walls, someone had already decided that love was leverage.
And that realization would change everything that came next.
Chapter Seventeen: When Safety Becomes a QuestionThe message did not leave Adrian's mind.
It sat there, heavy and sharp, like a stone lodged beneath his ribs.
We know where she lives.
He replayed it in his head as he walked Lena to her door, as she unlocked it, as she turned to face him beneath the dim hallway light.
She looked calm.
That scared him more than panic would have.
"You're thinking too loudly," she said.
He blinked. "What?"
"Your face," she clarified. "It does that when you're trying to solve something alone."
He exhaled slowly. "I didn't want to bring it into your space."
She studied him for a long moment, then unlocked the door fully and stepped aside.
"Then don't stand outside it," she said. "Come in."
Inside, the apartment felt smaller than it had the night before. Or maybe the threat had expanded, filling the corners with unease.
Lena set her keys down carefully, deliberately. Normal actions. Grounding ones.
"Sit," she said, nodding toward the couch.
He did.
She didn't join him immediately. Instead, she poured two glasses of water, her movements steady, her hands not shaking even though her shoulders were tense.
She handed him one and sat across from him, knees tucked beneath her.
"Now," she said. "Tell me exactly what the message said."
He hesitated.
She raised an eyebrow. "Honesty, remember?"
He handed her the phone.
She read it once.
Then again.
Her jaw tightened, but she didn't look away.
"They didn't ask for anything," she said.
"Not yet."
"That's what worries you," she observed.
"Yes."
She leaned back, staring at the ceiling.
"People like this," she said slowly, "they want control more than results."
He watched her carefully. "You've thought about this before."
"I've lived quietly," she replied. "Women learn how danger works long before it announces itself."
The truth of that sat heavy between them.
"I won't let this escalate," he said. "I'll increase security. Quietly. No headlines."
She nodded. "That's fine."
Then she added, "But you're staying here tonight."
He stiffened. "Lena—"
"This isn't about romance," she cut in. "This is about not being alone when something tries to make you feel small."
He searched her face.
"You're not scared?" he asked.
"I am," she admitted. "But fear doesn't get to isolate me anymore."
He swallowed. "I don't want to turn your home into a fortress."
"I don't want to turn my life into a hiding place," she replied. "We adapt. We don't retreat."
For a moment, he saw it clearly.
This was why he'd fallen.
Not softness.
Strength without spectacle.
The night passed lightly.
Not with sleep.
With listening.
Every sound in the hallway felt louder. Every car outside lingered too long.
Adrian stayed awake on the couch, eyes open, senses tuned.
Lena eventually slept in her room, the door cracked open, light spilling faintly into the living room.
At some point near dawn, exhaustion pulled him under.
He dreamed of glass walls breaking.
Morning arrived with a knock.
Sharp. Sudden.
Adrian was on his feet instantly, heart pounding.
"Adrian," Lena called softly from the bedroom. "It's okay. I hear it too."
Another knock.
"Lena? It's Mrs. Adebayo."
Adrian exhaled slowly.
Lena opened the door, relief softening her features.
Her neighbor stood there holding a small plate covered with foil.
"I made too much breakfast," she said simply. "Thought you might need it."
Lena smiled, genuine this time.
"Thank you," she said. "That's kind."
The woman glanced past her, eyes landing on Adrian. Curious, but not invasive.
"Your friend?" she asked.
Lena didn't hesitate. "Yes."
The word settled something inside him.
By midmorning, the story had shifted again.
Adrian saw it before Lena did.
A new headline. Different tone.
Billionaire's Silence Sparks Concern Over Corporate Stability.
No mention of Lena.
No photos.
Just pressure.
Claire called an hour later.
"They're spooked," she said. "Investors want reassurance."
"I stepped down temporarily," he replied. "That should buy time."
"It did," she said. "But they're asking what happens if temporary becomes permanent."
Adrian looked across the room at Lena, who was watering the small plant by the window, humming softly under her breath.
"I don't know yet," he said. "And I won't pretend I do."
"That's dangerous," Claire warned.
"So is lying," he replied.
She sighed. "I'll handle what I can."
After the call, he didn't move for a long moment.
"You're drifting," Lena said without turning.
He smiled faintly. "Still thinking too loudly?"
She nodded.
"Come with me to the café," she said.
"I thought you wanted me to stay away today."
"I want you present," she corrected. "Not hidden."
He hesitated. "With the message—"
"I won't let fear rewrite my routines," she said. "Neither should you."
The café was quieter than usual.
Not empty.
Just cautious.
A few regulars greeted Lena warmly. Others watched from a distance, unsure.
Adrian sat at the back, facing the door.
Protective without being obvious.
Halfway through the morning, a woman approached the counter.
She was young. Early twenties maybe. Nervous energy clinging to her like static.
"Can I talk to you?" she asked Lena.
Lena nodded. "Of course."
The woman glanced back at Adrian, then leaned closer.
"I just wanted to say," she whispered, "thank you."
Lena blinked. "For what?"
"For not pretending," the woman said. "My dad works in finance. I've seen men ruin families for less than honesty."
Lena felt something tighten in her chest.
"Thank you for saying that," she replied softly.
The woman smiled and left.
Adrian watched it all from his seat, something loosening inside him.
Not everyone was watching to tear them apart.
Some were watching to see if it could be done differently.
The twist came just after noon.
Two men entered the café.
Not regulars.
Not press.
They didn't order.
They didn't sit.
They just stood near the door, scanning the room.
Adrian's instincts flared.
Lena noticed immediately.
She caught his eye.
He stood slowly, deliberately, and moved closer to the counter.
The taller man stepped forward.
"Ms. Lena," he said calmly. "We need to speak with you."
Her pulse spiked. "About what?"
"Your safety," the man replied. "And his."
Adrian stepped in front of her without thinking.
She placed a hand on his arm.
"Let them talk," she said quietly.
The man raised his hands. "We're not here to threaten. We're here to warn."
"About the message," Adrian said.
The man nodded once.
"It wasn't an empty scare," he said. "Someone is trying to leverage proximity. Not ideology. Not money."
Lena's stomach dropped. "Who?"
The man shook his head. "Not someone who wants attention. Someone who wants access."
Silence fell like a weight.
"You should leave the café for a few days," the man continued. "Public places make patterns easy."
Lena's chest tightened.
"This place is my life," she said.
"And that's exactly why it's vulnerable," he replied.
Adrian turned to her, panic sharp in his eyes.
She met it head-on.
"No," she said.
The men exchanged a look.
"You're refusing protection," one said.
"No," Lena corrected. "I'm refusing disappearance."
The man studied her, then nodded.
"Then adapt," he said. "Because this isn't about headlines anymore."
They left without another word.
That night, Lena closed the café early again.
She hated it.
But she was learning the difference between surrender and strategy.
Back at her apartment, she sat on the couch, knees pulled to her chest.
"This is getting real," she said quietly.
"It always was," Adrian replied.
She looked at him.
"I don't know how to do this forever."
"You don't have to," he said. "Just today."
She breathed out slowly.
Then, "What if loving you puts a target on my life?"
The question wasn't dramatic.
It was practical.
Adrian moved closer, voice low.
"Then I'll spend the rest of mine making sure it never defines you."
She leaned into him, forehead against his shoulder.
Outside, a car idled too long before driving away.
Inside, two people sat with fear between them—
not running,
not pretending,
just holding the truth steady enough to survive it.
But somewhere beyond the walls, someone had already decided that love was leverage.
And that realization would change everything that came next.