It had been seven days since Julien bled out in front of her.
Seven days of pretending.
Seven days of keeping the images locked tight inside her chest like a screaming bird in a cage.
The morning light filtered lazily through the college atrium's glass ceiling, washing the stone floors in gold. Students shuffled past, chatting about lectures and weekend plans, but Ava felt like a ghost among them—like she was drifting through a world that no longer belonged to her.
Her fingers absently brushed the inside pocket of her coat.
The photos were still there.
One showed her family—her father, mother, and a tiny version of herself, grinning with her brother Alex. A photo she'd never seen before. A photo taken just weeks before the fire.
The second one was worse.
It was of three people—Lucien Du Callian, a younger Leonard, and... Luca.
Luca.
The boy she felt strangely drawn to.
The boy who looked too much like her.
Her stomach clenched. She hadn't told Rosa. She hadn't told anyone.
Because who would believe her?
The police had ruled Julien's death a robbery gone wrong. Apparently, he was a wanted criminal—on the run for five years. That's what the detective had told her. But something in the officer's eyes felt… rehearsed. Like he was reading a script.
Ava didn't trust them.
She didn't trust anyone anymore.
Not the system.
Not the police.
And definitely not Leonard.
"Ava."
She blinked up from her desk. The lecture hall had started to fill up. Her coffee had gone cold.
Leonard was standing by her table, notebook in one hand, a lazy smirk stretched across his annoyingly perfect face.
"You always look like you've just seen a ghost," he said, sliding into the seat beside her.
Ava didn't respond. She could still see the blood splattered across Julien's chest. She could still hear his last words.
"Be careful of Leonard..."
Her hands balled into fists beneath the desk.
He leaned in a little. "You okay?"
She turned slightly to look at him—really look at him. The smile, the smooth skin, the cocky confidence. But now… she could see something else. The cracks in the mask. The panic from a week ago. The moment she said Du Callian and he flinched.
A predator in a princely disguise.
"Just tired," she said flatly.
He watched her for a moment. "I heard about what happened. That guy who died near Delacroix Station. Robbery, right?"
She looked at him then, hard. "That what the papers say?"
Leonard hesitated. "You don't believe it?"
She didn't answer.
He leaned back. "You know, you can tell me things, Ava. I'm not the enemy."
A bitter laugh escaped her lips. "You sure about that?"
His brow creased. "What's that supposed to mean?"
Ava turned her gaze back to the front of the lecture hall, the professor's voice nothing but background noise now. She didn't want to explode in public. Not here. Not yet.
But she could feel it building inside—pressure, like a storm under her skin.
"You ever heard of someone named Lucien Crane Du Callian?" she asked suddenly.
Leonard stiffened.
Then he shrugged, too casually. "The CEO of LCD Holdings? Everyone's heard of him. Why?"
"I saw a picture," she murmured, voice low. "Of you… him… and someone else. Luca."
She didn't have to look to see the ripple of tension in his body.
"That's funny," he said. "I don't remember posing for anything like that."
"I didn't say it was recent."
He said nothing.
She turned to face him again, her voice cold. "What aren't you telling me, Leonard?"
His jaw flexed.
"You think you know what you're digging into," he said quietly, "but you don't."
"Try me."
He leaned closer, his tone darker now. "You think Julien was some saint? You think that man was innocent?"
Ava didn't flinch. "I know what I saw."
He sat back, the smirk gone. "Be careful, Ava. Some things you don't come back from."
She stared at him. "Is that a threat?"
He smiled thinly. "No. It's a warning."
The silence between them pulsed with tension. Around them, the lecture continued like nothing was happening. Like the world wasn't quietly unraveling.
Ava turned back to her notebook, but the words on the page didn't register.
Leonard might be warning her.
Or he might be protecting something.
Or someone.
Julien had said there were secrets. That her past was buried under layers of betrayal and power. And the more she peeled back, the more dangerous it became.
Her phone buzzed.
A message. No number.
"He's not the only one watching. You have five days. Then the truth will burn again."
Her skin crawled.
She looked up.
Leonard was watching her carefully, brows furrowed.
He hadn't sent it.
So who had?
And what did they mean by again?
It had been two weeks since Julien died in front of her. To week of silent spirals, sleepless nights, and secrets clawing at her from inside.
The college campus buzzed with its usual noise—laughter, drama, announcements—but Ava walked through it like a shadow. Headphones in, but no music playing. Her thoughts were too loud for anything else.
Julien's blood still haunted her fingers.
She'd memorized the photos she'd found in his pocket. One was of her family—her real family. Younger, happier. Her mom and dad holding her as a baby, all smiles in a garden she barely remembered. The second picture, though, was what rattled her: Luca and Leonard, arms slung around each other's shoulders, boys maybe ten or eleven years old, standing in front of a sleek black car.
Why were the two people tied to her now, somehow connected to the life she lost?
"Hey, professor called your name twice," Rosa whispered beside her, nudging her arm.
Ava blinked. She hadn't even noticed the lecture had started.
"I'll send you my notes," Rosa added, concerned. "You look like death warmed over."
Ava tried to smile, but her lips barely moved. She thanked Rosa and jotted something random on her notebook to keep up the act. But her mind was far from here.
The police had ruled Julien's death a robbery gone wrong. Just another crime in the city. Said he was a known con man they'd been tracking for five years. Case closed. They buried him in an unmarked grave within 48 hours.
But only she knew what really happened.
He was there the night her family was murdered. And someone had wanted him silenced.
A chair scraped loudly at the back of the class. She turned slowly—and there he was again.
Leonard.
Swaggering in five minutes late as usual, shades in his hand, dark curls perfectly messy like he'd stepped out of a fashion magazine. He looked right at her and smirked, like nothing in the world had changed.
But everything had.
He took a seat two rows back, but she could feel his eyes on her the whole time.
After class, she tried to leave fast, but of course, he caught up with her just outside the lecture hall.
"Skipping out on your favorite person again?" he teased, falling into step beside her.
She didn't answer.
"You've been ignoring my messages," he added, playfully offended. "And I'm starting to think you don't like me."
Ava turned to him. "What do you want, Leonard?"
He held a hand to his chest. "Ouch. Straight to the point."
"You've always been a distraction. And right now, I need less of those."
He leaned in slightly. "You think I'm a distraction? That's almost a compliment, Max."
She stopped walking. "Don't call me that."
He raised his eyebrows, then stepped back. "Alright. Tense much?"
Ava exhaled and looked him in the eye. "Tell me something. Luca. He's like your brother, right?"
Leonard's eyes darkened for a moment, but he quickly covered it up. "Yeah. Why?"
"How long have you known him?"
"Since we were kids. My dad raised him. He lived with us for years." His voice softened. "He's the closest thing I have to real family."
Her heart pounded. "Did your father… adopt him?"
Leonard scoffed. "No. He doesn't believe in family unless it's in a bloodline or a balance sheet."
Ava nodded slowly. "Does Luca know… who his real parents are?"
Leonard's smirk dropped. "What's this about?"
She took a step forward. "I think Luca is connected to what happened to me. To my family. And I need to know who he really is."
Leonard's voice went low. "Ava, whatever you think you're digging into, be careful. You don't want to play with fire."
"I'm already burning," she whispered, brushing past him.
That night, she opened her laptop and started searching. She combed through birth records, adoption databases, even school archives with the few details she had. Nothing matched Luca exactly… until she searched an image-based database.
A photo popped up.
It was Luca. Younger. In a school uniform from a private Italian prep school.
And beside him?Leaonard and Lucien.
She zoomed in.
No mistake.
Tears filled her eyes. She clutched the photo. Luca wasn't just some bodyguard or Leonard's best friend.
He had been in her life before. Before the fire. Before the tragedy.
And somehow, he had survived too.
Ava stared at the screen. Her mind spinning. "Why didn't you tell me, Luca?"
She sat in silence, shaking, barely able to breathe.
Why was Luca with them? And why did he disappear after the fire, only to return now—silent and shadowed?
She needed to find him.
And this time, she wouldn't wait for another note.
She would write the ending herself.