I saw him again three days later.
Not at the hospital.
Not at the cemetery.
But outside my apartment—standing across the street like he had been there for a while.
For a brief moment, fear gripped me. After everything I had discovered on Daniel's second phone, paranoia came easily. My fingers tightened around my keys as I slowed my steps, pretending not to notice him.
Then he looked up.
Our eyes met.
Recognition flickered across his face—followed by something darker. Relief, maybe. Or guilt.
He crossed the street with measured steps, his presence commanding without effort.
"Ava," he said.
The way he said my name sent a strange chill through me. "How do you know where I live?" I asked, my voice sharper than I felt.
His jaw tensed. "We need to talk."
"I don't talk to strangers who follow me home."
"That's fair," he said quietly. "My name is Ethan Blackwood."
The name meant nothing to me—but the way he said it, like it carried weight, made my chest tighten.
"I knew Daniel," he continued. "Better than you think."
Anger surged through my grief. "Then you should've been at the funeral, not watching from a distance."
"I was," he replied. "Just not close enough to be seen."
Something about that unsettled me.
"I don't want to reopen wounds," Ethan said, lowering his voice, "but Daniel's death wasn't an accident."
My breath caught.
"You don't get to say that," I whispered. "You don't get to plant ideas in my head when I'm barely holding together."
His eyes softened—but only slightly. "You already know," he said. "That's why you're afraid."
Silence stretched between us.
I hated that he was right.
I unlocked my door with shaking hands. "Five minutes," I said. "That's all you get."
Inside, the apartment felt smaller with him in it. He stood near the door, like a man who never truly relaxed, his gaze flicking to the windows, the hallway—every exit.
"You're in danger," he said plainly.
A bitter laugh escaped me. "My fiancé is dead. What more can they take from me?"
"You," he said. "Because Daniel didn't die for nothing."
My chest tightened painfully. "Stop."
Ethan exhaled slowly. "Daniel was investigating something. People who don't like being exposed. He tried to protect you by keeping you in the dark."
I thought of the messages on the hidden phone. The warnings. The threats.
"You should stay away from me," I said, my voice trembling. "Everyone who gets close to me ends up gone."
His gaze locked onto mine, intense and unyielding. "I'm not leaving."
The words hit harder than I expected.
"Why?" I asked. "Why do you care?"
For the first time, his composure cracked.
"Because I promised him," Ethan said quietly. "And because walking away would be easier—but I don't do easy."
Something twisted painfully in my chest.
I wanted to trust him. I wanted to push him away. I wanted answers—and yet, I was terrified of what those answers might cost.
When he finally turned to leave, he paused at the door.
"Don't answer unknown calls," he said. "And if you feel like you're being watched… you probably are."
The door closed behind him.
I slid down the wall, my heart racing.
Outside, I didn't see him leave.
And that frightened me more than anything else.
Because destiny hadn't just introduced him into my life.
It had placed him between me… and something far more dangerous than grief.