The silence in the car was louder than the wind outside.
Reggie had pulled over to the roadside to look at the message, and it had been minutes—long, dragging minutes—and he still hadn't started the engine. He just sat there, eyes locked on the screen like he could will it to confess more than it did. My phone rested in the space between us, the video paused, the message glaring like a wound refusing to close.
How much more are you hiding, Vanya?
My heart thudded harder, trying to speak in the silence I didn't dare break.
"Reggie..." I finally said, voice low.
He blinked slowly, tearing his gaze from the screen. His expression was unreadable, but something simmered beneath the calm surface. "This isn't just some jealous girl being petty. This... this feels like a threat."
I nodded, my fingers fiddling with the hem of my skirt. "They're trying to scare me."
"Or expose you."
The air inside the car shifted.
It wasn't just what he said—it was how he said it. Expose. Like there was something ugly crawling just beneath my skin, waiting to be unearthed.
And maybe there was.
Because even I didn't know what truths I'd buried so deep they had started to rot.
Reggie finally turned the key in the ignition. The car purred to life, but the hum did nothing to soften the tension pressing between us. He pulled back onto the road, both of us staring straight ahead. Neither of us said a word.
Because suddenly, words felt dangerous.
My thoughts spiraled. My mind tried to process possibilities—who it could be, what they wanted, and what they knew. I couldn't place a name or face. Just shadows. Ghosts behind screens. Watching.
And if the truth about what Mom had done to me ever surfaced, it wouldn't just be her downfall.
It would be Dad's too.
He didn't know. He couldn't know. But people wouldn't care. They'd blame him anyway. The media would shred him alive. And SAGE—Shaw Astor Global Enterprise—would burn for it.
Dad had built that empire with every bone in his body. A conglomerate that held the real estate and energy sectors of Oakwood in its grip. The most powerful, most feared, and most admired business in the country.
And all of it would go down the drain.
Because of me.
"No," I whispered under my breath, curling my fingers into fists in my lap. My chest ached as the reality tightened around me.
He didn't deserve that.
Tears threatened to rise, but I blinked them away before they could spill.
I turned toward the window, trying to focus on the blur of trees as we sped past the woodland edge leading to the estate gates. Anything to ground myself. Anything but the thought of Dad's legacy crumbling beneath this anonymous message.
Then, warm fingers wrapped around my fist.
Reggie's.
"It'll be fine, okay?" he said gently, eyes flicking toward me before returning to the road.
I didn't answer right away.
"Yeah," I said finally, voice dull as I relaxed my hand.
The car slowed as we entered the private estate. The security gates to Astor Heights parted for us, revealing the sleek, modern lines of my family's home. It stood tall and clinical, like it had something to prove.
We pulled into the circular driveway just before the Anders Manor. Mira appeared around the side of the house, an apron tied around her waist, gardening gloves in one hand and shears in the other.
She looked… deflated.
"Shouldn't you be on your date?" I asked, eyeing her sour expression.
"I got catfished, Vanya," she huffed dramatically. "Why? Why me?" She wiped fake tears from her cheeks, walking straight into Reggie's open arms.
"Oh no, miss princess," Reggie said, chuckling as he cradled her in a mock hug. "You deserve better than that punk. Forget him."
They both wiped each other's imaginary tears with exaggerated sobs.
I rolled my eyes and walked inside, their laughter following me up the steps.
"I'll make dinner—take your time, okay?" Mira called.
I ignored her, glancing briefly at Reggie.
"Shouldn't you be heading home?" I asked, pausing on the stairs.
"Nope. I wanna eat first."
He peeled off his school blazer and slung it onto the side table near the entryway before walking toward the kitchen, Mira following him with a bounce in her step.
I stood there a while, watching them disappear, before retreating upstairs to run a bath. The walls of my room welcomed me like a cage I'd built with my own hands.
Steam filled the bathroom, curling against the glass as I sank into the tub. The water was warm. Too warm. It curled around my skin like a second layer, heavy and quiet, muffling the world outside the bathroom walls. But I didn't mind.
I let the heat numb my skin, wishing it could do the same to my thoughts.
I sank deeper into the tub, letting my hair float, my ears submerged just enough to drown out the nonexistent sounds.
Reggie was still around—probably making himself too comfortable, like always.
But I didn't care.
Not right now.
The video kept playing behind my eyelids every time I blinked. The grainy footage, the sound of his voice—She did this to you—and the message that followed.
How much more are you hiding, Vanya?
A sick chill twisted through my gut.
I wasn't hiding. Not really. Not anymore.
Was I?
I opened my eyes and stared at the ceiling. The steam had begun to gather, blurring the edges of the mirror and glass. I could barely see my own reflection.
Maybe that's for the best.
The tap dripped once. Then twice. The only sound in a room that felt like it was holding its breath.
I thought about deleting the video. About pretending it had never happened. But I knew better. Whoever sent it still had the original. Deleting it wouldn't erase the threat.
It wouldn't erase the fact that someone was out there watching.
Or the fact that I couldn't tell anyone. Not really.
I wasn't ready for Dad to know. And Reggie... he was already too close. Too willing to jump in like he could save me from myself. He couldn't. No one could.
Not from this.
Not from her.
A soft knock on the bathroom door startled me.
"Vanya?" Mira's voice came through. Lighter than usual. Careful.
I sat up, the water sloshing against the porcelain. "What?"
"Dinner's ready. Reggie says you've been in there forever."
Of course he did.
"I'm coming," I called back, already reaching for the towel.
I dried off, slipped into a soft black hoodie and leggings, and patted my hair lightly with a towel. No makeup. No effort. I didn't have the strength to wear a mask tonight.
Downstairs, the kitchen smelled like butter and rosemary and something Mira called "comfort food." She'd made grilled chicken, creamy mashed potatoes, and roasted carrots that looked too perfect to be real.
Reggie was already seated, barefoot, in a t-shirt now, scrolling through his phone. When I stepped in, he looked up immediately.
His eyes scanned me quickly. Not in a weird way. Just checking. Always checking.
I sat opposite him. Mira placed a plate in front of me with a full-blown smile.
"Here you go, sweet girl," she said. "Eat up. You need it."
She reached out and smoothened my stray baby hairs like she used to when I was little.
I flinched.
Only slightly. But she noticed.
She paused, her hand still in the air for a second too long before she pulled it back. "You okay?"
I nodded. "Just tired."
"Long day," Reggie added, giving me an out.
"Yeah," I said curtly.
"I saved the biggest drumstick for you," he said.
"Thanks," I muttered, sitting across from him.
Dinner was warm and quiet. Mira buzzed around like her earlier heartbreak had vanished into the steam of the kitchen.
But underneath the comfort, the tension still simmered.
Whoever they were, they had seen enough to strike fear.
But not enough to understand me.
They wanted to unravel me. Piece by piece. With no context. No care.
And I wasn't going to let them.
Not now.
Not when the walls I'd built were just beginning to hold.
And I knew one thing for sure:
Whoever had sent that message wasn't done with me yet.
Oh no, I was highly mistaken if I thought that was the end.
This was just a teaser. Not even the beginning.