CHAPTER THIRTY FIVE
“Phase Two.”
Zara was halfway through arranging floral samples when the receptionist called her downstairs.
"There's a delivery for you."
"A delivery?"
The receptionist smiled.
"It doesn't have a sender."
Zara frowned.
"I wasn't expecting anything."
A small white gift box sat neatly on the reception desk.
No ribbon.
No branding.
Just a cream envelope resting on top.
For Zara.
She looked around the lobby.
Nothing seemed unusual.
People came and went through the revolving doors.
A courier van disappeared around the corner.
Naomi walked over.
"What is it?"
"I don't know."
"Open it."
Zara slowly lifted the lid.
Inside was a single white lily.
Fresh.
Beautiful.
Folded beneath it was a handwritten note.
Everyone deserves a fresh start.
Some pasts don't let you have one.
No signature.
A chill crept over her skin.
Naomi frowned.
"That's... odd."
"Very."
Camille appeared from her office.
"What have we got?"
She read the note once before looking at Zara.
"Do you know who sent this?"
Zara immediately thought of one person.
"No."
But she wasn't completely sure.
Twenty minutes later, Zara called Malik.
He answered on the second ring.
"Hey."
"Can you talk?"
The smile disappeared from his face.
"What's happened?"
She explained the delivery.
Every detail.
The flower.
The note.
The missing sender.
Silence followed.
Too much silence.
"Malik?"
"I'm here."
"You know something."
He closed his office door.
"I need you to stay inside the building until I get there."
Her stomach tightened.
"Malik."
"I'm serious."
"Tell me."
"I will."
"When?"
"I'm leaving now."
The call ended.
Forty minutes later, Malik arrived at Bellamy & Co.
He didn't rush through the doors.
He walked in calmly.
But Zara knew him well enough now to recognise the tension in his shoulders.
Camille invited them into her office for privacy.
As soon as the door closed, Malik picked up the note.
He read it twice.
Then placed it carefully back on the desk.
"You know who sent it."
Zara's voice was steady.
"I know who I think sent it."
"Devon."
He nodded.
"I can't prove it."
"But yes."
She stared at him.
"You said he was watching."
"He was."
"You never said he'd contact me."
"I didn't think he would."
Camille folded her arms.
"Can someone tell me what's going on?"
Malik looked at Zara.
She nodded once.
"Tell her."
So he did.
Not everything.
But enough.
He explained Devon.
The surveillance.
The journalist.
The photographs.
Camille listened without interrupting.
When he finished, she spoke calmly.
"Then Bellamy & Co. will increase security."
"You don't have to—"
"I do."
She looked directly at Zara.
"You're my employee."
"And more importantly..."
"...you're someone I care about."
Emotion filled Zara's eyes.
"Thank you."
Outside the office, Naomi waited anxiously.
The moment Zara stepped out, she stood.
"You alright?"
Zara managed a small smile.
"I will be."
Naomi hugged her tightly.
"You don't have to pretend to be brave all the time."
For a second...
Zara let herself lean into the hug.
That evening, the apartment felt different.
Not unsafe.
Just... quieter.
Malik stood at the kitchen island while Zara made tea.
Finally she broke the silence.
"How long?"
He looked up.
"How long what?"
"How long have you known Devon was escalating things?"
He didn't answer immediately.
"A couple of weeks."
She nodded slowly.
"So while I was unpacking boxes..."
"...you were arranging security."
"Yes."
"And while we were talking about where to put the bookshelf..."
"...you were wondering whether someone was watching us."
Another pause.
"Yes."
She placed both mugs on the counter.
"I wish you'd trusted me enough to tell me."
"I know."
"I wasn't trying to keep you in the dark."
"I was trying to give you peace."
She looked at him sadly.
"But it wasn't real peace."
"It was borrowed."
Those words landed harder than either of them expected.
Malik looked away.
"I keep making the same mistake."
"What mistake?"
"I decide what information you can handle."
She walked over to him.
"You don't have to protect me from the truth."
"I know."
"You protect me by standing beside me."
He met her eyes.
Not in front of me.
Not behind me.
Beside me.
"I can do that."
"I know you can."
Later that night, Marcus arrived at the apartment.
It was the first time Zara had met him properly.
He was tall, composed and quietly observant.
"Nice to finally meet you properly."
"You too," Zara replied.
Marcus handed Malik a folder.
"I've arranged additional security around the apartment."
Zara sighed.
"I really don't want bodyguards following me everywhere."
Marcus smiled politely.
"Our job isn't to make your life smaller."
"It's to make sure you get to keep living it."
She appreciated that answer.
More than he probably realised.
As Marcus prepared to leave, he paused.
"One more thing."
He looked at Malik.
"We've identified who delivered the box."
Malik straightened.
"Who?"
"The courier had no idea what he was carrying."
"It was paid for online using false details."
Marcus opened the folder.
"But..."
He slid a CCTV still across the table.
A woman wearing sunglasses and a baseball cap stood outside a florist's shop.
She wasn't facing the camera.
Her features were hidden.
Still...
Something about her felt familiar.
Zara stared at the photograph.
"I've seen her before."
Malik turned towards her.
"Where?"
She closed her eyes, searching her memory.
"I don't know."
"It was recent."
"Maybe outside work..."
"Or..."
She suddenly opened her eyes.
"The charity gala."
"I think she was standing near the entrance."
Marcus took the photograph back.
"We'll keep digging."
After he left, silence settled over the apartment once more.
Across Brooklyn, Devon stood on the balcony of his penthouse, looking out over the city.
His phone buzzed.
The florist's delivery had worked exactly as planned.
No threats.
No violence.
Just uncertainty.
He smiled to himself.
Fear wasn't his objective.
Not yet.
Doubt was.
Because doubt made people question each other.
And once trust began to crack...
People usually did the rest of the work themselves.
He picked up another file from his desk.
This one was thicker than the others.
Across the front was a single name.
Lena Matthews.
Devon opened it slowly.
Inside were photographs.
Old messages.
Financial records.
A lease agreement from years ago.
He smiled.
"Time for an old story..."
"...to become a new problem."
Far across the city, Zara curled up beside Malik on the sofa.
He wrapped an arm around her, and she rested her head against his shoulder.
Neither of them spoke.
They simply sat together.
Because sometimes love wasn't about finding the right words.
Sometimes...
It was about choosing not to let go when the world was trying to pull you apart.