California
The restaurant was opulent-gold accents, marble floors, and the faint scent of sandalwood lingering in the air. The kind of place where secrets were whispered behind $300 bottles of wine and heavy velvet curtains muted the rest of the world.
Savannah stood in the hallway outside the private room, her hand resting on the doorknob. For a moment, she closed her eyes. She had rehearsed what she'd say a hundred times on the flight from San Francisco to L.A., but now, with the door in front of her and her heart thundering in her chest, the words seemed to vanish. Her palm was sweaty. Her breathing uneven.
She wasn't here for volunteer work. That had been a lie-a convenient excuse crafted with precision, the kind Blaze wouldn't question. She had told her husband she was here on hospital assignment. In reality, she was chasing a ghost-a friendship once thought lost to time and tragedy.
Anastasia.
The friend who had disappeared from her life like smoke slipping through fingers. The friend who, now, might hold the truth Savannah had never dared to ask out loud.
She opened the door.
The room was dim, elegant. A soft jazz tune played in the background. There, on the velvet couch, sat Anastasia-wine glass in hand, her posture stiff, as though bracing for something she hadn't fully prepared herself to say. She looked up.
Their eyes met.
Neither spoke for a long moment. The weight of a year's worth of silence pressed into the space between them.
Savannah walked in quietly and took the single armchair across from her. She didn't even sit back, just perched on the edge like someone preparing to flee.
"Tell me the truth," she said, her voice sharp and deliberate. A demand, not a plea.
Anastasia blinked, her lashes trembling. She nodded slowly, then looked down at her heels. Her voice, when it came, was cautious-like someone walking barefoot across broken glass.
"I didn't know what was happening, Savannah. Not then. Not clearly."
Savannah's gaze didn't waver. She was barely breathing.
"I was on my way to work when I saw Ms. Jones-your nurse. She was rushing out of the hospital, frantic. I stopped her, asked if something was wrong She barely looked at me when she said, 'Mr. Baldwin called. There's an emergency. She was gone before I could ask more."
Savannah's chest tightened at the mention of Blaze's surname. Baldwin. The man she trusted with her life. The man she loved beyond reason.
"I stood there," Anastasia continued, "trying to remember why that name-Baldwin-felt so familiar. Then it hit me. Blaze. It was him. And the look on her face, Savannah... it was fear. Panic. But she wouldn't explain."
A lump formed in Savannah's throat. Her eyes stayed locked, not blinking, not moving. Her nails dug into her palms.
"I wanted to call you," Anastasia said softly, "but your phone was out of service. I tried again. Three times. Still nothing. I told myself I was overreacting. But... the feeling wouldn't go away."
She paused to sip her wine, her hand shaking.
"Just two days later, I ran into her again. Ms. Jones. The same look of panic on her face. I had to stop her. 'What's going on now?' I asked. She glanced around, lowering her voice as if she were about to share a deep secret. 'It's Mr. Baldwin's fiancée. She's in really bad shape. He's only letting in a select few people he trusts.'
Savannah's brows knitted together, her heartbeat pounding in her ears.
"I asked her, 'What's the name of his fiancée?' I was ready for anything, anyone. But then she said... 'Savannah. Your name.'
For a brief moment, Savannah felt as if she were floating outside her own body.
"Ms. Jones let me accompany her after requesting her for 10 minutes." Anastasia said, her voice trembling. "As her assistant. That was the only way I could get into the Baldwin estate. I had to see you with my own eyes."
She paused, swallowing hard.
'When I walked into your bedroom... you were unconscious. Hooked up to machines. Bruised and pale. You didn't even look like yourself. I honestly thought you were dead at first.'
Savannah blinked, but the tears still hadn't come. She was caught in that strange space between memory and disbelief.
"I waited outside your room while Ms. Jones checked on you. Once she was done she walked out and seeing my chance I entered the room again. Then I saw him-Blaze. Standing by the window, back turned. I asked had to ask him, "Where's Theo? He must be in shock-"
"He cut me off saying. We need to talk. Not here, he said. One last glance at yoir fragile body and he walked out. I followed him... thinking he would take me to Theo."
Savannah was now holding her breath.
Anastasia looked at her, eyes glassy. "But he didn't."
She paused.
"He took me to a small office room. I asked again-Where was Theo? And that's when he looked at me, eyes cold and flat, and said... "Don't ever speak of him again."
Savannah let out a strangled sound, barely audible.
"I asked him what he meant. He just handed me a folded note, like it was nothing. And he said- "When Savannah wakes up, tell her these. Read it carefully."
Savannah's lip trembled. "What did it say?" she whispered.
Anastasia looked away, her hand clenching the stem of her wine glass like it might snap.
"I didn't want to read it," Anastasia said. "But I did."
Silence.
The note stated. "Theo is dead. He passed away while Savannah was unconscious in bed and the predator was non other than her ex. Savannah had been in a coma for a year since the day she had been rescued. Don't tell her anything, don't even attempt to speak to what's going on, if you do you'd no want to feel the aftermath."
A sob tore from Savannah's throat.
Anastasia's next words came like a blade.
FLASHBACK
One Year Ago - The Baldwin's Mansion.
The sun was setting behind the sprawling Baldwin estate, casting long shadows across the polished marble floors. The gardens outside were still, deceptively peaceful, while inside, something sinister brewed beneath the surface.
"I'm not doing it," she had said.
He hadn't blinked.
Instead, he chuckled a dark, amused sound that didn't belong to the man Savannah had once described as her rock. It wasn't a laugh of humor. It was a warning. A dismissal. A predator entertained by the prey's last attempt at defiance.
"Do I look like I'm here to answer your questions?" Blaze had replied, voice smooth like velvet pulled tight over broken glass.
Anastasia had stepped back then, uncertain, disturbed. "What did you do to Theo?"
He hadn't answered that either. Not directly. Instead, he said in that same infuriatingly calm tone, "You brought this upon yourself. Now just do as I say."
The calmness wasn't comforting. It was calculated. Controlled. Deadly:
Anastasia stumbled out of the office, her chest rising and falling with each breath, her heart pounding like a drum inside her ribcage. The walls of the mansion once a symbol of elegance-felt like they were closing in on her, whispering the secrets she had just uncovered.
Blaze Baldwin hadn't raised his voice once. And somehow, that had terrified her more than if he had screamed.
Anastasia pushed through the hallways, barely seeing the opulence around her, and burst into the backyard like a prisoner gasping for freedom.
For a moment, the open sky helped. The wind touched her skin. The real world felt close again.
She yanked her phone from her bag, her hands trembling so violently it took three tries to unlock the screen. She dialed the emergency number with her thumb, each beep like a prayer.
Once the call connected, "I need an ambulance," she whispered. "Forty-five Palm Grove-"
A hand gripped her phone before she could finish.
Startled, she spun around, and her blood turned cold.
A large man stood behind her, dressed in all black, face devoid of emotion. His presence alone said everything. He wasn't here to negotiate. He was here to ensure obedience.
He must be the Arthur guy, Anastasia thought.
Savannah had once mentioned him in passing a silent figure always a few steps behind Blaze. But now, face to face, Anastasia realized what she hadn't understood before:
Arthur wasn't a bodyguard.
He was a warden.
Blaze appeared again, stepping into the garden like a man who had just come to enjoy the evening air. Calm. Controlled. Always calm.
"What the fuck do you think you're doing?" Anastasia barked at him, her voice rising with panic.
Blaze tilted his head, almost amused. "What do you think you're doing?"
"I'm taking Savannah out of this hell, and I'm getting Theo too!" she snapped.
"Why is that?" he asked, like he was asking about the weather.
"Because you're not well, you're fucking not well" she said. "You're insane!"
Blaze didn't argue. He simply nodded.
Then Arthur handed her an iPad.
She recoiled at first, suspicious, but Blaze's voice froze her.
"Take a look. I don't think you'll be doing what you were about to."
Her heart thundered. She took the device with a shaking hand, her reflection staring back at her for a second before the screen lit up.
And then-her world crumbled.
Noah.
Strapped to a chair. His shirt torn. Blood staining his chest. His face bruised, lips split, one eye swollen shut. He was barely recognizable.
Barely alive.
She dropped the iPad, her breath hitching, knees giving out as she sank to the cold stone floor. Her hands covered her mouth, a silent scream stuck in her throat.
Blaze's tall figure clouded over her.
"This is what happens when people go overboard with things that matter to me."
His words weren't a threat.
They were a prophecy.
And in that moment, Anastasia understood the truth:
There was no saving Savannah.
There was no saving Theo.
Not from him.
Author's Note :
I'll be revamping this chapter later, updating because I haven't in a while:(
Have a good day/night <3<3