Chapter Six
Asher
Waking up with Nora beside me gives me a feeling I never thought I’d ever have. I definitely haven’t had it yet in my thirty-two years. Hearing her voice first thing in the morning. Watching the way she moves through the apartment like she belongs here—it feels like bliss.
Sometimes, it feels so unreal that I fear it’s a dream.
And if it is, I don’t ever want to wake up.
The intensity of what I feel scares me. Especially when I don’t know how she feels.
I know she cares for me. It shows in her lingering stares, her expressive gaze. But it’s not something we’ve discussed.
I’m awake before she is again. I lie on my back, one arm behind my head, the other resting loosely around her waist. She’s half on top of me, her breathing slowing. Her body is relaxed in a way that tells me she’s comfortable.
Because I’m the one she’s trusting to keep it that way. But I still don’t have all the answers.
“Stop thinking so loud,” she murmurs against my chest, her voice soft with sleep.
My gaze drops to her, a faint shift in my expression I don’t bother hiding. “You’re awake.”
“Barely,” she replies, not moving. “But I can feel it when you start doing that.”
“Doing what?”
“Overthinking,” she says, finally lifting her head to look at me. “You go all tense.”
I huff out a quiet breath. “Occupational hazard.”
She studies me for a second, then props herself up slightly, resting her chin on my chest. “Are you going to ask me again?”
“Yes.”
She groans softly, dropping her head back down. “You’ve already asked me everything.”
“And I’m asking again.”
She sighs, but she shifts anyway, settling more comfortably against me like she’s accepted it. “Fine. What now?”
“Your parents,” I say, my tone steady. “Tell me again. What they did. Who they knew.”
She’s quiet for a second, thinking. “My dad worked in finance. Investments mostly. My mom didn’t really work—he managed things at home, but she had friends, charity groups, stuff like that.”
“Names.”
She lifts her head again, frowning slightly. “I don’t remember all of them.”
“Try.”
Another sigh, but she nods, listing a few names slowly, her voice thoughtful as she works through her memories. I listen carefully, filing everything away, looking for anything that stands out, anything that connects. Nothing does. Not yet.
“Anyone they had issues with?” I ask.
She shakes her head. “Not that I know of. They were…normal. At least, I thought they were.”
“Business rivals?”
“I was a kid, Asher,” she says, giving me a look. “They didn’t exactly sit me down and explain their enemies.”
“Think, sweetheart,” I press.
She goes quiet again, her brow furrowing slightly as she tries. “I don’t remember anything like that. No fights, no threats, nothing.”
I study her for a second, then shift slightly. “Your aunt.”
She tilts her head. “What about her?”
“What was her relationship with your parents like?”
“Fine,” she says immediately. “She was around a lot after they died. Before that…I don’t know, normal, I guess.”
“Any tension?”
“No,” she replies, then pauses. “Not that I noticed.”
I nod slowly, my mind already turning.
“Anyone who would benefit from your parents being gone?” I ask next.
She frowns slightly. “That’s a weird question.”
“Answer it.”
She’s quiet for a long moment, and this time she really seems to reach for it, not brush it off.
“I don’t know. My dad handled a lot of money that wasn’t his—other people’s investments.
I was too young to understand any of it.
” Her brow creases. “I used to hear him on the phone at night, tense, talking about accounts and clients. I didn’t know what it meant then.
I still don’t, not really. But if someone lost money because of him…
” She trails off, shaking her head slowly.
“I never thought about it as a reason before. It’s not something a seven-year-old asks about”
“Not always.”
She’s quiet again, then shifts slightly, her expression changing. “This is frustrating.”
“I know.”
“No, you don’t,” she says, sitting up more fully now, running a hand through her hair. “You’re asking all these questions like there’s something I’m supposed to remember, but I don’t have anything. I don’t know who would want me dead, or why.” Her voice tightens at the last part.
I sit up with her, my gaze steady as I rub slow circles across her back. “We’ll figure it out.”
“How?” she presses. “We’re just…guessing.”
“We’re narrowing it down.”
“It doesn’t feel like it,” she mutters.
Silence lingers for a second, then she exhales sharply, her frustration bubbling over. “If I had siblings, I’d at least think it was about my inheritance or something.”
Inheritance. The word hits. Sharp. Immediate.
My focus snaps to her. “What inheritance?”
She blinks, like the question catches her off guard. “What?”
“You said inheritance,” I repeat, my tone sharper now. “What inheritance?”
“Oh,” she says, like it’s nothing. “That.”
My jaw tightens slightly. “Nora.”
“What?” she says again, shrugging lightly. “It didn’t seem important.”
And there it is—the thing that doesn’t fit. A girl mentions a fortune the way she’d mention the weather. Either she’s the best liar I’ve ever met, or someone spent years downplaying it to her. I’d bet everything I have on the second one.
“Explain.”
She sighs, clearly not understanding the shift.
“My parents left me money. A lot of it, I think—I’ve never actually seen the number.
It’s in a trust. I can’t touch it until I’m twenty, which is…
soon, now that I think about it.” She lifts a shoulder, like it genuinely doesn’t weigh on her.
“It’s just always been there. This thing that happens later.
My aunt always said not to talk about it.
That people would look at me differently, try to use me, if they knew. So I don’t. I never really have.”
Every word she says slots into place like pieces of a puzzle I didn’t realize I was missing.
“You really don’t know how much?” I ask.
She shrugs again. “I don’t know exactly. Enough that I wouldn’t have to worry, I think. I planned to travel for a year once I had access to it. I don’t even know if I want to anymore, with everything that’s going on.”
“You’re going to take that trip, sweetheart,” I say soothingly, though it doesn’t soften my sharp focus as I ask, “When’s your birthday?”
“Next month. June fifth.”
A coldness grows inside me as she answers. So close. This is motive.
“And if something happens to you before then?” I ask, my voice quieter now.
She hesitates. Then, slowly, “I think it goes to my aunt.”
Heavy silence fills the room.
She notices it immediately, her expression shifting. “What?”
I study her for a second longer, then exhale slowly, ensuring my tone is flat. “This is why I keep asking the same questions.”
She frowns slightly. “To get me to remember things I didn’t think were important.”
“Exactly.”
Her eyes widen just a fraction as it settles in for her too. “You think this is about the money?”
“I think it’s a strong possibility.”
She sits there for a second, processing, then shakes her head slightly. “That’s…insane.”
“Is it?”
She doesn’t answer. Because now, it makes sense. The realization doesn’t sit well with her. I can see it in the way her expression tightens. The way her fingers curl slightly against the sheets like she’s trying to hold onto something steady while everything shifts under her.
“That doesn’t make sense,” she says after a moment, her voice quieter now, uncertain. “My aunt wouldn’t. She raised me. She’s the one who warned me to be careful.”
I watch her carefully, measuring every reaction. “People don’t always show you who they are when there’s something to gain.”
“She wouldn’t kill me for money,” Nora insists, but I pick up on the slight hesitation now, a crack in the certainty she had seconds ago.
“You don’t know that,” I say evenly.
“I do,” she pushes, though it sounds weaker this time. “She’s all I have.”
The words stop me cold. I know what it is to have no one. To count a single person as your whole world and build everything around them. But I don’t let it show. Instead, I shift slightly, grounding the conversation before it spirals. “We don’t know anything for sure yet. This is just a lead.”
She exhales slowly, dragging a hand through her hair. “I don’t like it.”
“You’re not supposed to.”
A quiet pause settles between us, heavy with everything unsaid. Then I straighten slightly, shifting gears before she gets stuck in it. “Get up.”
She blinks at me. “What?”
“You said you wanted to feel safer,” I remind her. “We start now.”
Her brows knit together slightly. “Start what?”
“Training.”
That earns me a look. “Right now?”
“Yes.”
She studies me for a second, then huffs out a small breath, but there’s a flicker of determination behind it. “Fine.”
We dress quickly and move into the small open space in the living room. I keep it simple at first. Basic stance and balance. She listens closely, mimicking my movements. Her focus is sharper now, like she needs something to hold onto.
“Feet apart,” I instruct, adjusting her position slightly. “You need a stable base.”
“Like this?” she asks, shifting her weight.
“Better,” I say, stepping back slightly to observe. “If someone grabs you, your first instinct shouldn’t be to panic.”
“I don’t panic,” she mutters.
I raise an eyebrow. “You will if you don’t know what you’re doing.”
She rolls her eyes slightly but doesn’t argue.
“Again,” I say, stepping forward. “I grab you, you react.”
I reach for her wrist, not hard, just enough to demonstrate. She tenses at first, then remembers, shifting her stance the way I showed her, trying to twist free.
“Too slow,” I correct, adjusting her movement. “You hesitate, you lose.”
She tries again. Better this time.
“Good,” I say.
A small smile tugs at her lips. “I’m learning.”
“Don’t get comfortable,” I reply.
She huffs softly but steps closer again. “Show me something harder.”
I study her for a second, then nod. “Fine.”