Across the city, Nancy Oakham was sitting in her office, sunlight streaming through the blinds. Her hands trembled slightly as she signed her final patient report of the day. Despite the fatigue, there was a certain peace in her eyes, a quiet sense of relief.

  For the first time in years, her heart felt light. Stephen’s death had brought her something she hadn’t known since she left Vexmoor, the taste of freedom. The burden of her past, the fear of discovery, the haunting voice of vengeance, all silenced with one pull of a trigger.

  She leaned back in her chair, eyes closing. The gunshot still echoed faintly in her ears, but instead of guilt, she felt release. “I did it,” she whispered. “I finally did it.”

  But almost instantly, another image flashed in her mind; Nathan. His sharp smile. His warmth. His way of calling her Angel whenever she was angry. Her lips curved into a soft smile. “I’m free to love you now,” she said quietly. “Free to let go of all the pain.” She tilted her head toward the ceiling, as though speaking to someone invisible. “I can finally be with you without fear.”

  She laughed lightly under her breath, that kind of laugh that comes from deep relief. “I love you, Andrew Coleman,” she said aloud, using the name she knew him by.

  Her phone buzzed on the desk. She reached for it, smiling, expecting another text from him, but it wasn’t. It was a strange message, still unopened, sitting at the top of her screen since morning. She hesitated, her thumb hovering over it. Something about it felt off. But she shook her head and pushed the thought away. “Not today,” she murmured. “No bad news today.”

  She minimized the message and opened Nathan’s contact instead. His picture filled the screen; his confident smile, the one that always made her chest flutter. Without thinking, she raised the phone and pressed a soft kiss to his image.

  “I love you,” she whispered again, eyes gleaming. “You’ll see tonight, I’ll officially accept you tonight as my mam.” Around her, the hospital moved in its usual rhythm, footsteps echoing down corridors, distant chatter from the nurses’ desk. But Nancy barely noticed any of it. Her mind was elsewhere, counting the hours until she’d see him. And slowly, the day began to fade.

  By four p.m., Nancy closed her final file and stood up. Her movements were brisk, almost cheerful. She took one last look at her reflection in the office mirror, brushed her hair, fixed her lipstick, and smiled at herself. “Perfect,” she said softly. “Tonight’s the night.”

  The elevator doors closed behind her, and for the first time in months, she felt weightless. The city breeze brushed against her face as she stepped out of the hospital and walked toward her car. Everything around her felt alive again, the laughter of children, the scent of blooming flowers, the faint music drifting from passing cars. By the time she reached her apartment, the sun was already sliding behind the buildings, painting the skyline in gold and crimson.

  She dropped her bag on the couch and got to work immediately. The kitchen was filled with the aroma of roasted chicken and spiced wine. The table gleamed under candlelight. And in the living room, she arranged everything with delicate precision, red roses scattered across the floor, petals forming a soft trail leading to the dining area.

  Her hands trembled slightly as she worked, but it wasn’t fear, it was excitement. She could barely contain the flutter in her chest. Every detail mattered. Tonight wasn’t just another dinner. Tonight was a promise, a new beginning. She glanced at the clock. Six: seventeen p.m.

  Her heart raced. “Soon,” she whispered, her voice trembling with anticipation. “He will be here.” She moved to the mirror again, smoothing the soft silk dress she’d chosen; pale cream with tiny pearl buttons, one Nathan had once said made her look “like sunrise.” Her reflection smiled back at her, radiant and unburdened.

  “Today,” she whispered, eyes glistening, “I’ll finally say yes to him.” She looked around at the glow of candles, the neatly folded napkins, the trail of roses, every detail perfect. Her world, at last, was quiet. The ghosts of her past were buried. All that was left now was love. And as the clock ticked softly in the background, Nancy Oakham waited, unaware that somewhere across the city, Nathan had already loaded his gun.

  On the other hand, Nathan began to prepare for the evening. It wasn’t a night of joy anymore. It was duty. It was reckoning. He stood before the mirror, his face blank, eyes shadowed with sleeplessness. The man who once smiled at his reflection now stared back at a ghost, a man hollowed out by grief and betrayal. His fingers brushed over the edge of his jaw, feeling the roughness of a day’s stubble. His lips tightened. There was no reason to look good tonight.

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  He reached for his wardrobe and didn’t even glance at the suits. Instead, he pulled on a plain black T-shirt and a dark pair of trousers. Over that, he slipped into his leather jacket, zipped halfway. It wasn’t style; it was armor.

  In his pocket, he slipped his police badge, and the other pocket, his handcuff, the weight of it pressing against his thigh like a reminder, he was not a lover tonight. He was an officer. And before the night ended, someone would be in handcuffs.

  Then, from the drawer, he picked up the necklace, the same one he shared with Lia and which believed was his goodluck charm. The pendant hung cold between his fingers. He opened it, and her tiny smiling picture greeted him, her eyes as full of life as he remembered. He smiled faintly, though it hurt.

  “Give me good luck today,” he whispered. “Just once more. I have to avenge your uncle Stephen today.”

  He kissed the photo, let it rest against his chest, and turned off the lights.

  Outside, the night was calm, deceptively calm. Nathan walked to his car, the click of his boots echoing against the pavement. The city glimmered under streetlights, oblivious to the storm brewing inside him. He got into the car, exhaled, and gripped the steering wheel. Then he took out his phone and quickly typed a message to Rita:

  “Get the team ready. Remember what I said. Track my phone. If you don’t get a message from me every thirty minutes, act.”

  He hit send. Across town, Rita’s phone buzzed. The message flashed across the screen, and her heart tightened. She looked at Bobby and two other agents. “Gear up,” she said, her voice steady but firm. “He’s going in.” Bobby raised an eyebrow. “Alone?”

  Rita’s gaze darkened. “He insisted.” She stood, slipping her pistol into her holster, her movements sharp. “We’ll move soon. Stay close to the van, and keep the signal monitor on. If anything goes dark for more than half an hour.” Bobby nodded grimly. “We storm the place.” Rita swallowed hard, staring at the blinking dot on the tracker. Don’t do anything stupid, Nathan.

  Within fifteen minutes, Nathan’s car rolled to a stop in front of Nancy’s apartment. He sat there for a moment, engine running, staring at the warmly lit windows. He had been here countless times before, but tonight, it felt different. Tonight, the air itself seemed to resist him. His hand hovered over the door handle, trembling slightly. He clenched his jaw. “You can do this,” he muttered. “She’s not who you thought she was.”

  Still, when he finally stepped out, his heart felt heavier than his gun.

  He walked to the door and lifted his hand to knock. His knuckles rapped softly at first; hesitant, almost longing. He could already smell the faint scent of roses through the cracks of the door. That same scent that used to linger on her hair, on his pillows, on his soul.

  For a moment, he just stood there, remembering her laughter, the warmth of her eyes, how she’d once fallen asleep on his chest. Then he blinked hard and knocked again, firmer this time. The door creaked open. And there she was. Nancy Oakham.

  Dressed in red lingerie, silk clinging to her body like sin wrapped in beauty. Her hair fell over her shoulders, golden under the dim light. Her smile; soft, teasing, familiar. Her beauty struck him like a blade between the ribs.

  “You’re welcome, Mister. Coleman,” she said in that honeyed voice that used to melt his defences. For one fleeting second, Nathan forgot why he had come. His mind blanked. His chest tightened, and he just stood there, staring, caught between love and rage. Nancy tilted her head, noticing the way his eyes flickered, not with desire this time, but with pain. She chuckled softly, reaching for his hand. “Come in,” she said, stepping aside. “Stop looking at me like that.” Her touch was warm. Too warm. He followed her in like a man stepping into a memory he didn’t trust anymore.

  The apartment looked perfect. Almost painfully perfect. The faint scent of roses filled the air, mixed with candle wax and wine. Petals scattered across the floor like drops of blood. The table was laid with dinner; roasted chicken, two glasses of red wine, and a flickering candle in the middle. Nathan’s throat tightened. He could feel his gun pressing against his side, heavy and cold.

  “What’s the occasion?” he asked, trying to keep his voice neutral. Nancy turned, her smile radiant. “I have some good news to tell you,” she said softly. “Come. Sit.” Before he could protest, she took his hand; firm, confident, and guided him toward the table. He didn’t resist. He sat down, his eyes scanning the room subtly, noting every exit, every corner. But her closeness made it hard to think like an officer.

  She poured him a glass of wine, her fingers brushing his. “You look tense,” she said. “Rough day?” Nathan forced a smile. “Something like that.” She giggled lightly, leaning forward. “Well, tonight’s not for rough days.” She raised her glass toward him. “To new beginnings.” He lifted his glass slowly. The scent of the wine mixed with her perfume, the same one she always wore. “To new beginnings,” he echoed, though the words burned on his tongue.

  They drank. And for a brief moment, the silence between them wasn’t empty, it was heavy, suffocating. Nancy broke it first. Her gaze softened as she studied his face, and saw thd dark eyes. “You’ve been crying,” she said gently.

  Nathan froze, his heart thundered. Her tone wasn’t accusatory, it was tender, concerned. She leaned closer, reaching to brush a thumb along his cheekbone. “Your eyes are swollen. What’s wrong?” He exhaled slowly, fighting the tremor in his voice. “I lost a colleague,” he said finally.

  Nancy’s smile faltered. Her hand dropped. “Oh,” she whispered. “I’m. I’m so sorry about that.” Her voice wavered, soft and sincere. “Was it someone close?” Nathan swallowed hard, trying not to break under her gaze. Her empathy; real or performed, cut deeper than any bullet.

  “Yeah,” he said quietly. “He was a good man.”

  There was silence. Nancy’s expression shifted, sadness flickering across her eyes. “You must be hurting,” she said. “But you don’t have to hold it in. Talk to me.” For a second, he almost did. He almost told her everything. How he knew. How he had found her secret room. How the evidence screamed her name.

  But then he remembered Stephen’s blood. The bullet hole. The note that read The Orphan is back. His jaw tightened, rage burning behind his eyes. The woman in front of him at that moment looked so innocent to hurt a human. How can you be a devil and an angel at the same time? he thought.

  Nancy, oblivious to the storm inside him, stood up and walked to the kitchen. The red silk swayed behind her like firelight.

  She returned with another bottle of wine, smiling faintly. “You know,” she said, her tone light, “I almost thought you wouldn’t come tonight.”

  Nathan looked at her really looked at her. She seemed happy, glowing even. No trace of guilt. No shadow of regret.

  His fingers twitched under the table. Every instinct screamed arrest her now. But his heart, his foolish, aching heart, whispered wait.