Chapter 208 - The Ember’s Lament.

The night air was cool and crisp, the faint hum of city life still alive even at this late hour. Neon lights from surrounding shops bathed the cobbled streets in shifting colors-blues, purples, reds. It was the kind of night where secrets whispered louder than words.

At a cozy little outdoor café, Anastasia and Bella were nestled together at a small, wrought-iron table, illuminated by the gentle glow of a streetlamp. They looked completely different; Anastasia sported a short black wig and tinted glasses, swapping her usual polished style for something more laid-back, almost streetwise. Bella was just as transformed, her ash-blonde wig tucked under a baseball cap that cast a shadow over her face, and a baggy hoodie that enveloped her figure.

They fit right in.

But their eyes told a different story—sharp, alert, and full of anticipation.

Bella checked her watch again, a slight frown creasing her forehead. "Where is he?" she murmured, impatience creeping into her voice.

Anastasia kept her gaze on her phone, scrolling through updates. "He said ten minutes." she replied, her thumb moving quickly across the screen.

Bella huffed, crossing her arms in frustration. "It's been over half an hour. Are they serious?"

Anastasia pressed her lips together, maintaining her composure. "He's reliable." Finally, she looked up, her tone softening. "Let's just wait a little longer."

Time seemed to stretch, thick with tension. Bella tapped her foot nervously under the table, stealing glances around them every few moments.

Exactly ten minutes later, a low voice broke through the silence from their right.

"Anastasia."

Both women turned in unison.

A man stood there—medium height, dressed in a dark jacket, a ball cap obscuring most of his face. His hands were shoved into his pockets, his posture relaxed, but his eyes were alert, scanning the surroundings.

Anastasia offered him a small, almost imperceptible nod, signaling him to come over.

Earlier, she had given him a detailed description of their outfits. Just to be safe.

The man moved closer and took the empty chair beside them, his movements measured and deliberate.

"Took you long enough," Bella remarked dryly, rolling her eyes and letting out a frustrated sigh.

"Sorry for the wait. I got a bit tied up with work," the man replied, his voice rough yet sincere.

Anastasia gave a slight nod, stealing a sideways glance at Bella to keep her composure. There was too much on the line tonight to let any petty squabbles get in the way.

"Shall we get started?" the man asked, leaning in a bit.

"Yeah," Anastasia replied.

For a brief moment, she hesitated, gathering her thoughts as Savannah's words echoed in her mind:

"Blaze Baldwin."

Clearing her throat, she leaned in as well, keeping her voice low.

"Blaze Baldwin—you know him, right?"

The man's expression changed subtly. Not a huge shift, but a flicker of recognition sparked in his eyes.

He leaned back, deep in thought. "Isn't he that business mogul? Big in tech...?" he finally said.

Anastasia nodded slightly. "That's him."

Bella and Anastasia exchanged a knowing glance.

The man looked up, his expression was more serious, less casual than before.

"What do you want from me?" he asked, his voice now steady and serious.

Anastasia leaned in, no more games to play.

"Proof," she said firmly. "Solid proof. Documents, transactions, anything that can bring him down for good. No assumptions. Just facts. About his illegal activities."

The man thoughtfully tapped the edge of the table, deep in contemplation. His eyes glinting with interest. "Interesting," he said, voice slow, deliberate. "And what do I get out of this?"

Anastasia and Bella exchanged a quick look before Anastasia broke the silence.

"Your sister," she said gently.

The man tensed up.

Anastasia pressed on, "We know about her condition. The heart disease. The surgery she needs... It's costly. Way too costly. But we can take care of it. Every penny. No debt. No strings attached."

For a moment, the man's facade cracked just a bit. A shimmer of unshed tears glistened in his eyes, the kind that only appear when someone touches that vulnerable part of you that you work so hard to shield.

"You're not lying?" he asked, his voice rough around the edges.

"You have my word," Anastasia replied with conviction. "Or, if you'd rather, we can draft a contract by tomorrow. Legally binding."

The man didn't think twice.

"Contract," he said without hesitation, leaning in, a flicker of desperate hope lighting up his guarded expression. "I want everything in writing."

Anastasia blinked, taken aback by his urgency—but she got it. The need to protect loved ones could drive anyone to the edge.

"Alright," she nodded. "You'll have it by tomorrow."

The man let out a slow breath, some of the tension easing from his stiff shoulders.

"So, are you in?" Anastasia pressed, needing to hear the confirmation.

He met her gaze head-on.

"Yes." His voice was like a solemn promise. "I'm in."

And just like that, the first piece of their risky game fell into place. Without Savannah knowing.

Baldwin's Mansion

By the time Blaze and Savannah arrived at the mansion, the night felt heavy.

Inside their shared bedroom, the air was thick, almost stifling, with silence stretching tightly between them.

The only sounds were the gentle hum of the air conditioner and the soft crackling of the fireplace in the corner. The large bed, usually a haven, now felt like uncharted territory.

They lay side by side, yet felt miles apart.

Blaze had pulled her into his arms the moment they slipped beneath the covers, as if trying to shield her from something or maybe from himself. His hand was firm but careful, his other arm draped around her waist, anchoring her to him.

Savannah, however, remained completely still.

Her arms hung rigidly at her sides, her body refusing to lean into his warmth. With her eyes shut and her breathing steady, she could have easily pretended to be asleep.

But Blaze was aware of the truth.

His heart raced quietly against his ribs, driven by the flood of thoughts he hadn't shared earlier, the image from the store etched in his mind.

Savannah so close to Elijah.

Elijah gazing at her as if she were the only light in a pitch-black room.

He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to banish the image, but it clawed its way back.

Yet, when he finally spoke, his voice was soft, almost a whisper of desperation.

"Why didn't you tell me you were off early today?" Blaze asked, his breath warm against her hair.

There was no anger, no blame—just confusion and something deeper, more delicate.

Savannah kept her eyes closed. Her voice was low, almost indifferent.

"Forgot."

A brief, curt response. No room for discussion. No invitation for further explanation.

Blaze felt the sting more than he let on. He swallowed hard, adjusting his hand slightly on her waist, as if sheer will could pull her closer.

"Ana," he said again, using the nickname that used to soften her gaze toward him.

He tilted his chin slightly, his mouth near her ear. His next words were chosen with careful precision.

"From now on... take me with you wherever you go." His voice dropped even lower. "Don't take Elijah everywhere."

There was no jealousy in his tone—not exactly. It was something different. A raw, unspoken plea to be part of her life again.

Finally, Savannah opened her eyes.

She lay there for a moment, staring blankly into the shadows of the room, feeling his arms wrapped around her as if he feared she would disappear if he loosened his grip.

Then slowly, deliberately, she turned her head halfway to look at him over her shoulder.

For a fleeting moment, Blaze dared to hope that she might say something to mend the growing rift between them.

But all she offered was,

"I feel sleepy. Let's sleep."

Her tone was neither cold nor warm—it felt utterly vacant.

With that, she gently turned away from him, leaning slightly forward, causing his arms to slip from her waist.

Blaze stayed frozen, his gaze fixed on the curve of her back, a hollow ache settling in that no words could mend.

He observed her, the subtle rise and fall of her breath, the way her hair cascaded over the pillow.

He could reach out and touch her—but tonight, it felt like reaching for a ghost.

The fire in the corner crackled softly, fading into embers, while Blaze lay awake in the darkness, weighed down by a heaviness that sleep couldn't ease.

Because no matter how tightly he tried to hold onto her—

Savannah was already slipping away.

Author's Note :

What do I do with Blaze? Arghhh!

Thankyou for reading<3

Have a good day/night<3<3