Silver didn't sleep that night.
She lay curled on her side, staring at the faint glow of dawn seeping through the curtains, her mind replaying every word, every image, every threat. Raymond had insisted on staying—had taken the couch without argument, like it was the most natural thing in the world to guard her simply by being close.
That alone stirred something in her chest. Comfort… and fear.
Fear that she didn't deserve this level of devotion.
Fear that she would be the reason it all came crashing down.
She slipped quietly out of bed and padded into the kitchen. The apartment felt too quiet, too exposed. She poured herself a glass of water, her hands still unsteady.
Behind her, Raymond's voice broke the silence. "You're up early."
She turned. He was standing in the doorway, sleeves rolled up, hair slightly disheveled. He looked tired—but sharp. Alert.
"I couldn't sleep," she admitted.
"I figured." He moved closer, not touching her yet, like he didn't want to overwhelm her. "You don't have to go into work today."
She shook her head immediately. "I do. If I don't show up, it'll look suspicious. Like I have something to hide."
Raymond studied her face for a long moment. "This isn't your fault."
Silver laughed softly, without humor. "It feels like it is."
At Horizon Media, the tension was unmistakable.
The moment Silver stepped into the building, she felt it—the shift in energy, the curious glances, the hushed conversations that stopped when she passed. No one said anything outright, but silence could be louder than words.
She sat at her desk, forcing herself to focus. Her phone buzzed once.
Unknown Number: Good girl. Showing up like nothing's wrong.
Her breath caught.
Another message followed immediately.
Unknown Number: You have until Friday to decide. Either you walk away quietly… or everyone sees more.
Silver's vision blurred. She clenched her jaw, refusing to cry—not here, not now.
Across the floor, Raymond stepped out of the executive elevator. The room straightened instantly, but his eyes went straight to Silver. He didn't smile. Didn't wave.
Good, she thought. At least they're still being careful.
But when he reached his office, he shut the door harder than usual.
Inside, Raymond loosened his tie and turned sharply to his head of security, who stood waiting.
"I want everything," Raymond said, voice low and controlled. "Phone records, security footage, access logs. Someone is watching us, and I want to know who."
The man nodded. "We'll trace the number. But whoever this is… they're careful."
Raymond's jaw tightened. "Careful doesn't mean untouchable."
His thoughts drifted back to Silver—her pale face, the way she'd looked like she was bracing for impact. That alone was enough to ignite something dangerous inside him.
No one threatened what was his.
But more than that—no one scared her.
By midafternoon, Silver's strength was fading. She excused herself and retreated to the restroom, gripping the sink as her reflection stared back at her. She looked the same—but she felt different.
Smaller.
Vulnerable.
Her phone vibrated again.
This time, there was no text. Just another image.
A photo of her from years ago—college-aged, laughing at a party, a drink in her hand. Harmless. Normal.
But the implication was clear.
I know your past.
Her knees weakened.
Silver slid down against the wall, hugging herself as tears finally escaped. She had worked so hard to build a better life, to love right, to be careful, intentional.
And now someone was trying to reduce her to fragments of a story they didn't even understand.
Raymond found her twenty minutes later.
He didn't ask questions. He didn't hesitate.
He knelt in front of her, his hands warm as they cupped her face, lifting her gaze to his. Her tears soaked his thumbs, but he didn't flinch.
"They sent you something," he said quietly.
She nodded, shame flooding her expression. "I didn't do anything wrong. But… I feel like I'm being punished anyway."
His voice softened. "Silver, look at me."
She did.
"There is nothing in your past that makes you unworthy of love. Nothing that gives anyone the right to hurt you."
She swallowed. "What if they ruin you? Your company? Your name?"
Raymond leaned in, forehead resting against hers. "Then I rebuild. I've done it before."
Her breath hitched. "Why are you so calm?"
"I'm not," he admitted. "I'm controlled."
He pulled her into his arms, holding her tightly—not possessively, but protectively. Like she was something fragile and precious all at once.
"You trust me?" he asked.
"Yes," she whispered. "Even though I'm scared."
"Good," he murmured. "Because I won't let anyone touch you. Not your reputation. Not your heart."
Later that evening, alone again, Silver stood by her window, watching the city lights. Her phone remained silent for the first time all day.
But she knew this wasn't over.
Somewhere, someone was watching. Waiting.
And as fear coiled quietly in her chest, another emotion rose to meet it—stronger, steadier.
Resolve.
If loving Raymond meant facing darkness, then she would face it standing.
Because this time… she wasn't alone.