Chapter 3 I was Just a pawn

Alina's POV

I woke to the sound of distant jazz and the smell of coffee.

For a moment, I forgot where I was. The bed I was lying on was too soft. So soft it felt like I was floating in the air. The sheets are too smooth. Then it hit me.

Last night, the rain, Damon, Brielle, and the stranger named Ronan who offered me a place to breathe.

I sat up slowly, my body sore in places I hadn't realized.

The guest bedroom was covered in warm light, filtered through linen curtains and a painting that read "be yourself". My suitcase sat untouched at the foot of the bed, like a memorial to everything I had lost.

After freshening up in the sleek in-suite bathroom, I followed the music out into the open concept living space.

Ronan stood by the kitchen island, wearing a black sweater, sleeves rolled up as he poured coffee into two mugs.

"You drink it black?" he asked without turning as if he knew I was coming.

"Yes," I replied cautiously.

He slid one mug across the counter toward me. "You sleep like a corpse," "I haven't slept that well in weeks."

He nodded, sipping from his cup. "That's the effect of silence."

I studied him more carefully now. He moved with accuracy, like someone who had grown up under watchful eyes. Rich, controlled, intentional.

"You're not just rich," I asked suddenly. "You're old money. Aren't you?"

He didn't answer, He just walked to the window and looked out at the skyline.

"You hide it well," I added, stepping closer to him, "But not perfectly."

He turned, eyes cool and warm. "And what makes you such an expert?"

"I grew up with that world. I know the brand, The Silence, and the way you avoid direct answers."

"Touché."

I set my mug down. "Who are you really, Ronan?" I asked like a detective demanding authority.

He was quiet for a moment...too long.

Then,....

"I was born into a family that built empires and buried secrets. I disappeared two years ago. As far as they know, I'm dead." he stated unmoved.

"You faked your death?" my eyes wide open.

"They gave me no choice."

I stared at him, trying to decide if this was a delusion or the truth. But something in his voice....the bitterness, the weight...told me it was real.

"Why tell me this?" I asked, dropping my mug.

"Because you need to understand what kind of world you're stepping into."

I frowned at his words. "What do you mean?"

He walked to a cabinet, pulled out a folder, and dropped it in front of me "Your ex....Damon. Do you know who his father is?"

My stomach twisted. "No. I never asked. He said they were... estranged."

Ronan gave a humorless laugh. "That was his first lie."

I opened the folder.

Inside were photos, clippings, and business reports.

Damon Vexler, son of Darius Vexler, CEO of Vexler Holdings, a company infamous for hostile takeovers, fraud rumors, and backroom deals.

I flipped to another page... Brielle, laughing beside Damon at a yacht party. Another showed her whispering into Daman's ear.

My blood ran cold.

"Brielle was working with him... the whole time?" I asked in utter confusion, tears building up in my eyes.

Ronan nodded. "They used you, You were an easy distraction. You kept Damon clean while Brielle funneled what they needed."

I stepped back, and I felt my breath shallow. "Why...why me? I had nothing to offer."

"You had access. Your family's name. Your influence. Damon attached himself, then discarded you when you became inconvenient."

My hands shook, and my palm was wet. I felt the heat under. "I was just a pawn."

Ronan looked at me, with a serious gaze. "Not anymore."

I couldn't hold myself anymore, so I fell into the nearest chair. "I don't even know where to begin."

Ronan took another folder from the shelf. This one had my name on the tab.

My eyes narrowed. "You've been researching me?" What more surprises I thought to myself.

"Protecting my investment," he said calmly. "I saw your portfolio. Your designs, the scholarship you gave up for Damon."

I felt exposed. "That was private."

"It was brilliant," he replied. "You have talent. All you need is a platform and someone to clear the obstacles.

"Let me guess," I said bitterly, already burning in fury. "You?"

He waited for a moment before answering, sensing the rage in my voice.

"I have money, connections, and a score to settle with the Vexlers."

I was confused. "So this is about you."

He didn't deny it. "At first. But now... maybe it's about us both," he said with a stern smile.

I stood up slowly wiping my tears off. "If I do this, if I rebuild myself, it'll be on my terms. I don't want pity. Or charity."

Ronan smiled. "I never said you couldn't burn the world down your own way. I'm just offering gasoline."

Something about that made my pulse quicken.

I reached for the file with my name again, flipped through notes, details of my old designs, competitions I had won, professors I had impressed.

He had done his homework.

"Why would you care about any of this?" I asked, not sure why.!"

His smile faded. "Because when you've lost everything, you recognize the look in someone else's eyes. You're not broken, Alina. You're becoming."

I felt the shift, subtle, and powerful. Like a storm turning inward.

"Fine," I said quietly. "I'll let you help me. But this time, I will call the shots."

Ronan extended a hand in agreement.

"Agreed."