Chapter 2

The penthouse Blake Ward provided was a world away from his small apartment in Ohio. It was all glass and steel, with panoramic views of the Manhattan skyline. It felt cold, sterile, and empty. Just like him.

For the first few days, Elias did nothing. He just sat on a white leather sofa, staring out at the city, as Blake's staff quietly tended to him. A doctor came and treated the bruises and cuts from the warehouse. A tailor took his measurements for new clothes. A chef prepared meals he barely touched.

Blake herself was a ghost. He knew she was in the penthouse, in her home office on the second floor, but he never saw her. She was a presence he felt but could not see, a silent force rearranging his life from a distance.

One night, unable to sleep, he walked out onto the terrace. The city glittered below, a sprawling galaxy of lights. He felt a profound sense of dislocation, as if he were an astronaut adrift in space.

He saw them then. Across the park, in another towering glass building, was the Navarro Corporation headquarters. A light was on in the top-floor office. Isadora's office.

He could just make out two figures inside, silhouetted against the bright light. A woman and a man. They were close, the man's arm wrapped around the woman's waist. He saw the man lean in and kiss her.

Even from this distance, he knew. It was Isadora and Jordan.

The sight was a physical blow. He stumbled back, his hand clutching his chest as if to hold his heart together. The pain was sharp, immediate.

He fled back inside, his breath coming in ragged gasps.

He saw her face in his mind, not the cold, cruel mask she wore now, but the face of his Issy. Her smile, the way her eyes would light up when she saw him, the way she would cling to him as if he were her only anchor in a storm.

'You are my light, Elias,' she had once whispered, her breath warm against his neck. 'Without you, I'm just lost in the dark.'

Now she was with Jordan, the very man who had engineered her darkness.

'I would die for you, Elias,' she had sworn to him, her eyes fierce with a love he had believed was unbreakable.

And in a way, she had. The Issy he loved was dead. Blake Ward had offered him an escape, but there was no escaping the memories. They were a part of him, a phantom limb that ached with a pain no one else could see.

He stumbled through the massive penthouse until he found his room. His old duffel bag, the only thing he had from his previous life, was in the corner. He knelt and unzipped it. Inside, beneath a few worn t-shirts, was a small, wooden box.

He opened it. It was filled with letters. Letters Isadora had written to him during their time together. Her handwriting was a delicate, looping script, full of life and love.

He picked one up at random.

My dearest Elias,

I'm watching you work in the garage from the window. You have no idea how handsome you are when you're focused, with that little smudge of grease on your nose. I love you more than words can say. You are my home.

Forever yours,

Issy

His vision blurred. He couldn't read anymore.

This was a lie. All of it. The woman who wrote these words was gone, replaced by a stranger who despised him.

He had to let her go. He had to kill the ghost that was haunting him.

He found a heavy metal wastebasket in the corner of the room. He carried it to the small, smokeless fireplace. One by one, he took the letters from the box and dropped them into the basket. His hands shook. Each letter was a memory, a piece of his heart.

He took out a lighter, a simple Zippo she had given him for his birthday. He flicked it open. The flame danced in the dim light.

He was about to drop it into the basket when the intercom on the wall buzzed.

A crisp, formal voice spoke. "Mr. Jensen, my apologies for the late hour. There is a Ms. Isadora Navarro in the lobby demanding to see you. She is accompanied by Mr. Jordan Navarro. They are causing a disturbance. Ms. Ward's instructions are to deny them entry, but Ms. Navarro is threatening to call the press."

Elias's blood ran cold. He walked to the intercom. "Do not let them up."

"Understood, sir. We will handle... one moment." There was a pause, a muffled sound of commotion. The voice returned, flustered. "Sir, they've forced their way past the lobby security. They are in the elevator. I repeat, they are on their way up."

A moment later, his door was thrown open. Not burst in by force, but unlocked by a keycard Jordan brazenly held aloft-a master key likely swiped from the flustered security desk in the chaos. Jordan Navarro stood there, a smug, triumphant smirk on his face. Isadora was just behind him, her arms crossed, her expression impatient.

"What do we have here?" Jordan drawled, his eyes locking onto the letters in the wastebasket.

"Get out," Elias said, his voice low and dangerous.

Jordan sauntered into the room, ignoring him. "Burning old love letters? How pathetic. Trying to destroy the evidence of your sad little obsession?"

He reached into the basket and snatched a handful of the letters before Elias could react.

"Let's see what kind of drivel you've been writing to yourself." Jordan's eyes scanned the page, and his smirk widened. "Oh, this is rich. So sentimental. 'My dearest Elias...' You really are a creep."

Then his eyes fell to the bottom of the page. The signature. 'Forever yours, Issy.'

Jordan's face paled. The smirk vanished, replaced by a look of pure shock and fury.

"Where did you get this?" he hissed, his voice tight.

"She wrote them to me," Elias said, his voice flat. "Before you and her parents destroyed her."

Jordan's shock quickly morphed back into rage. He crumpled the letter in his fist.

"You're a liar! You forged these! You sick, twisted stalker!" He lunged at Elias, trying to grab the rest of the letters.

Elias shoved him back. "Get out of my life, Jordan."

"This is my life! Issy is mine!" Jordan shrieked, his polished Ivy League veneer cracking to reveal the frantic jealousy beneath. "You are nothing! A piece of trash from the gutter!"

He insisted the letters were forgeries, his voice getting louder, more hysterical. He was a cornered animal, lashing out in a desperate attempt to protect his lies.