The room smelled like antiseptic and cheap coffee, the familiar scent of an old clinic. Father had chosen this safehouse carefully, an abandoned medical facility once owned by one of his loyal friends. It was quiet, cold, and hidden from every possible eye.
I sat on the edge of the narrow bed, my fingers trembling slightly as I tied my hair into a loose ponytail. Two hours had passed since Marcel left to speak with Father… two hours since he walked out of the door with a strange look in his eyes, like he saw straight through every layer of pain I tried to hide.
I didn't expect our paths to cross again, definitely not here, not like this, not after the life I'd just crawled out of. But fate had a twisted sense of humor.
A knock sounded.
Soft, low… but steady.
Before I could answer, the door creaked open.
Marcel stood there, casual, confident, leaning against the doorway like he had every right to be in my new world. His hair was slightly messy, his sleeves rolled up, and he held a brown envelope in one hand.
He looked nothing like the polished billionaire heir of Marcel Corporation.
He looked human. Real.
And somehow… dangerously comforting.
"Your father is downstairs," he said gently. "He wants you to read this."
He handed me the envelope. His fingers brushed mine, and something inside me tightened. I ignored it. Feelings were a luxury I couldn't afford.
I opened the envelope.
Inside was a single sheet of paper, Father's handwriting, rushed, slanted.
They are planning something bigger.
We have less time than I thought.
Do not trust anyone except Marcel.
My chest tightened.
I looked up slowly… and Marcel's eyes were already on me.
"You're upset," he murmured. "Talk to me."
I breathed in, trying to control the tremble in my voice.
"I don't understand why he trusts you so much."
Marcel's gaze softened.
"Because I've protected your father before. And because… I'm going to protect you too."
Those words shouldn't have felt like anything.
They shouldn't have mattered.
Not after the coldness of Edward's touch.
Not after betrayal lodged itself into my bones.
But they did.
"Sit," he said quietly.
I found myself obeying before I could think.
Marcel pulled the chair closer, sitting in front of me, leaving barely an inch between us. His presence was warm, grounding, frustratingly calm.
"You think you're alone," he said, watching my face carefully. "You think you have to carry everything yourself."
"I do," I whispered. "If I depend on anyone, I die."
His jaw tightened slightly. "Not me."
I looked away, focusing on the window, the moonlight leaking into the room.
"Marcel, you don't understand how dangerous this is. They didn't just want to hurt me. They wanted to erase me."
"I know," he said simply.
That startled me.
"You… know?"
He leaned back in the chair, fingers tapping his knee.
"I've been tracking Edward's movements for six months. Long before you knew."
My breath faltered.
"Why?"
He hesitated. His eyes flickered with something I couldn't name.
"Because someone asked me to keep an eye on him. Someone who suspected he was hiding something."
I swallowed. "Who?"
Marcel shook his head. "Not yet. I'll tell you when it's safe."
There it was again mystery, layers, secrets wrapped in secrets.
Like my life hadn't already become a labyrinth.
"I hate being left in the dark," I muttered.
He smiled faintly. "Then trust me enough to let me turn on the light."
I wasn't sure if I could trust anyone again.
But some stupid, fragile part of me wanted to believe him.
Before I could respond, he stood and walked toward the small cabinet. He pulled out a thermos and poured a steaming liquid into a metal cup.
"Drink this."
"What is it?"
"Herbal infusion. Helps with the after-effects of the sedative you were given at the morgue."
My eyes widened. "How do you know all this?"
He didn't look at me immediately.
"Because I was the one who created your death timeline. I told your father which sedative to use. I monitored your vitals until your heartbeat slowed enough to mimic death."
My fingers froze around the cup.
"You… were there?"
"Every second," he said quietly. "I'm the reason Edward believed you died exactly at 8:42 p.m."
A shiver ran down my spine.
Not fear, something deeper.
"You saved me."
His eyes lifted slowly, locking onto mine.
"I wasn't going to let them take you."
The silence thickened, warm and pulsing between us.
But before my emotions could betray me, a loud knock shattered the moment.
The door flew open.
Father's PA monalisa stepped inside, out of breath.
"Sir. Someone followed Marcel here."
My heart dropped.
Marcel's expression shifted instantly, sharp, calculating, deadly calm.
"How many?" he asked.
"Two men. Black SUV. They've been parked down the street for thirty minutes."
Father pushed into the room behind Monalisa , his face tense.
"They were tailing you from your headquarters," he said.
Marcel nodded slowly. "They weren't tailing me. They were tailing my cousin."
"Your cousin?" I repeated.
Marcel sighed, running a hand through his hair.
"Marvin. The one who wants control of the corporation. He spies on everyone close to me."
"And now he might know where I am?" I said sharply.
"No," Marcel said firmly. "I made them think I came here alone on business. They won't know who's inside."
Father exhaled shakily.
"For now," Marcel added.
I felt a wave of fear… and anger.
My death wasn't even 24 hours old, and dangerous men were already closing in.
"Father," I said softly, "we need a plan B."
Marcel turned to me. "Already working on it."
He pulled a small digital device from his pocket and clipped it onto the curtain rod. It emitted a faint buzz.
"Signal jammer," he explained. "No tracking, no recordings."
Then he walked back to me, lowering his voice so only I could hear.
"You're not safe here anymore. I'm moving you."
"To where?" I whispered.
His jaw tightened.
"My private estate."
My eyes widened. "No, Marcel, that's too risky."
"Exactly," he murmured. "It's the last place they'd expect."
Father didn't object.
Monalisa didn't object.
Even my heartbeat seemed to hold its breath.
Because deep down… I knew Marcel was right.
This wasn't just about hiding anymore.
This was about outsmarting predators who had already tasted blood.
Marcel stepped closer, his voice a low promise.
"I told you I'd protect you, Miranda. And I meant it. From this moment on, you don't walk alone. Not even for a second."
Something unsteady fluttered in my chest.
Fear, yes… but something else too.
Something I wasn't ready to touch.
Marcel turned to Father.
"Pack only the essentials. We leave in thirty minutes."
Then he looked at me again, soft eyes, steel beneath.
"And Miranda…"
My breath caught.
"You're not dying again. Not on my watch."
For the first time since the nightmare began…
I believed someone.
And that belief terrified me more than death ever did.