The storm finally broke by dawn, leaving the city rinsed in a fragile gray light. But inside Reina’s chest, the tempest raged on, unrelenting. She hadn’t slept a moment. Every time she closed her eyes, she saw Lucien’s smirk, heard his voice laced with venom.

Tomorrow morning, that boy’s laughter will be the last sound you hear.

Ezra stirred against her, his small body curled against her side on the couch. She had kept him there all night instead of tucking him into his bed. The rhythmic rise and fall of his breath had been her only anchor, proof that he was still safe — for now.

Her phone buzzed again. The screen lit up with another message from the same unknown number.

Tick-tock. Don’t make me impatient.

Her stomach twisted. She gripped the phone until her knuckles whitened, then turned it facedown.

Ezra yawned, blinking awake, his lashes fluttering like tiny wings. “Mommy?” His voice was still thick with sleep.

She smoothed his hair back. “Good morning, sweetheart.”

He rubbed his eyes, peering up at her. “Why are your eyes red?”

She froze. Children noticed too much. “Because…” she forced a smile, “…Mommy stayed up to watch the rain.”

His little brow furrowed. “You should sleep, too.”

Her chest ached. “I will. Later.”

Ezra nodded solemnly, then climbed off the couch and padded to his blocks. As he began building again, Reina pressed a hand against her mouth. She had always believed she could outsmart any danger, shield her son with her wits and her will. But Lucien was right — Ezra was vulnerable, and so was she.

And now, the choice was before her.

Betray Damian. Or risk Ezra’s life.

---

Later that morning, she dressed carefully, the routine movements grounding her even as her mind churned. She chose a charcoal-gray blouse and black slacks — professional, understated, nothing that revealed the chaos inside her.

“Are we going to your office?” Ezra asked as she buttoned his jacket.

“Yes,” she said, grateful for the excuse. She had no intention of leaving him in the apartment today, not after Lucien’s threat.

They drove through slick streets, Ezra humming softly in the backseat. Every turn, every stoplight, Reina scanned for shadows that lingered too long, for cars that followed too closely. Her paranoia grew with each block.

At Damian’s building, the glass tower gleamed against the gray sky, defiant and untouchable. Security at the entrance nodded them through, though Reina noticed the way their eyes flicked to Ezra — a silent acknowledgment of who he was, even if no one dared to say it aloud.

Inside, Damian was waiting.

He stood near the elevator bank, his tailored navy suit crisp, his dark hair slightly damp as if he’d walked through the rain without caring. His eyes, however, were anything but composed. They burned the moment they landed on her.

“Reina.” His voice was low, rough.

Her pulse skipped. She fought to keep her expression neutral. “Mr. Stone.”

His gaze slid past her to Ezra, softening in a way that caught her off guard. “And you, young man. You’re becoming a regular here.”

Ezra grinned. “I like it here. The floors are shiny.”

A ghost of a smile touched Damian’s lips. Then he looked back at Reina, seriousness returning. “May I speak with you? Alone?”

Her throat tightened. “Ezra stays with me.”

Damian hesitated, then nodded. “Fine. My office.”

---

The office was all glass and steel, the city sprawling beneath them. Ezra wandered toward the bookshelf, his small fingers brushing the spines. Damian waited until the boy was distracted before closing the door and turning to her.

“I can’t stop thinking about last night,” he said quietly.

Her chest constricted. “Forget it happened.”

“I can’t.” He stepped closer, each movement controlled but weighted. “When I look at you, it’s like—” His jaw clenched, his voice catching. “It’s like I’m seeing someone I lost. Someone I thought was gone forever.”

Her nails dug into her palms. She forced her voice steady. “That’s not me.”

His eyes darkened. “Then why does it feel like it is?”

She turned sharply, putting distance between them, her pulse hammering. Behind her, Ezra giggled at something on the shelf, blissfully unaware of the storm in the room.

Damian’s voice lowered, ragged at the edges. “I had a wife once. Sabrina. She was… everything.” His throat worked, as if the words scraped raw on their way out. “And then she was taken from me. One moment she was walking down the aisle, the next…”

Reina’s breath caught.

“…she was gone,” he finished, his voice breaking. “A car accident. They told me she died. But they never found her body. I searched for months. Years. Every night I wondered if maybe—maybe she was out there. And now you stand here, and all I see are her eyes, her voice, her fire.”

Her knees nearly buckled. The room swam.

She whispered, “Stop.”

But he didn’t. “Tell me I’m wrong. Look me in the eye and tell me you’re not her, and I’ll never bring it up again.”

Her heart pounded so hard it hurt. Her mouth opened — but nothing came. She couldn’t lie, not when the truth trembled on her tongue. And she couldn’t confess, not when Lucien’s threat hung over Ezra like a noose.

Her silence stretched, sharp as broken glass.

Finally, Damian exhaled, the sound heavy with defeat. “You don’t have to say anything. I’ll find the truth myself.”

The vow in his voice sent a shiver down her spine.

Ezra tugged on her sleeve. “Mommy, look! This book has a lion.”

She forced a smile, bending to him. “That’s wonderful, sweetheart.”

When she straightened, Damian’s eyes were still on her — searching, pleading, breaking.

---

That night, back at the apartment, Reina tucked Ezra into bed. His lashes fanned against his cheeks, his tiny hand curled trustingly around hers. She sat there long after his breathing evened, staring at his innocence.

Lucien’s words echoed: Feed me information. Or Ezra won’t live to see five.

Damian’s broken confession echoed louder: She was everything. And then she was gone.

Her chest heaved with the weight of it. She couldn’t betray Damian. Not after seeing the truth in his eyes, the anguish he carried. But she couldn’t risk Ezra’s life, either.

So she would do both.

She would play Lucien’s game. Pretend to be his pawn. Feed him crumbs, lies, whatever it took to buy time.

And in the shadows, she would find a way to destroy him.

Reina pressed her lips to Ezra’s forehead, her whisper fierce. “No one will take you from me. Not Lucien. Not Damian. Not anyone.”

Her son stirred, murmured something in his sleep, and clutched her tighter.

She closed her eyes, her decision sealing like iron.

She had made her choice.

A mother’s choice.

Even if it cost her everything.