Crossed boundaries

"Get off the fucking road!!" The driver kept shouting and honking furiously, urging her to move as he sped closer. But Sia didn't budge—she simply stood there, smiling.

Without a second thought, he knew exactly how reckless she could be. He understood that she was provoking him, pushing him to react. And he knew he couldn't just stand by and watch her risk her life for his attention.

At the peak of the moment, instinct took over. He sprinted toward her, yanking her off the road just as the massive truck thundered past.

"What a mad woman!" the truck driver bellowed in frustration as he sped away.

Breathing heavily, his eyes squeezed shut, he held her tightly—without even realizing it. One hand cradled the back of her head, while the other rested firmly against her back.

Slowly, he took deep breaths, trying to steady himself.

"Finally, you hugged me. I've missed your scent," Sia murmured, a soft smile playing on her lips as she clung to his shirt. She knew he would try to pull away at any moment.

Her words made Ford's eyes snap open in shock, suddenly aware of how closely he was holding her. Instantly, he tried to free himself, but she had already tightened her grip.

"Sia, loosen your hands," he commanded firmly.

"No, I won't," she protested. "Just hold me a little longer."

"Get your fucking hands off me!!" he thundered, shoving her away from his body. "Can't you fucking leave me alone? How crazy can you get? You almost got yourself killed! What the hell is wrong with you?"

With that, he stormed off, not sparing her a single glance as he climbed back into the car.

"I won't leave you alone. You are mine!" were the last words he heard from her before his driver sped off, leaving her standing there.

—

Elena had been bored the entire day. She wandered aimlessly around the house, admiring its beauty, but after a while, even that lost its appeal. She knew she couldn't spend her days doing nothing.

After finishing her lunch, she took a short nap, but upon waking up, the restlessness returned. She paced along the corridors, trying to distract herself, when her eyes landed on a particular door.

It was the same door the butler had strictly warned her not to open.

She turned away at first, forcing herself to ignore it—but then she hesitated.

Biting her fingers in anxiety, she wrestled with the curiosity gnawing at her. She knew herself too well. Once an idea took root in her mind, it was impossible to shake.

Slowly, she turned back to face the door. She was so unbearably bored, she needed something—anything—to pass the time.

Finally, she made her decision.

Glancing around to make sure no one was watching, she took a cautious step forward. When she was certain the hallway was empty, she reached for the doorknob and carefully turned it, pushing the door open with quiet determination.

At once, she was swallowed by darkness.

Panic surged through her, and she fumbled for her phone, quickly switching on the flashlight. A dim beam cut through the shadows, revealing a space that was cloaked in dust and neglect.

Her heart pounded as she stepped inside.

Coughing uncontrollably, she pressed a hand over her mouth, trying desperately to suppress the sound. If she was caught, she knew she'd be in serious trouble.

Her eyes darted around as she searched for a light switch. After fumbling for a few moments, her fingers finally brushed against it. A relieved smile spread across her face as she quickly flicked it on.

The dim room was suddenly illuminated, revealing an unexpected beauty.

Her eyes met with beautiful drawings around the room.

Turning around to admire the beauty of the room when her gaze immediately landed on a large portrait hanging on the wall—a stunning image of a woman. Beside it, another portrait caught her attention.

It featured the same woman, but this time, she sat with a young, handsome boy on her laps.

Elena's Curiosity pulled her forward. She moved closer, inspecting the portraits with fascination. Unable to resist the urge, she reached out and brushed her fingers against the surface. A thick layer of dust coated the frame, confirming that the room had been untouched for a long time.

A question formed in her mind as she studied the figures. Who was this woman? And the little boy beside her?

"Could this be Ford's mother?" she murmured, narrowing her eyes at the familiar features.

Her attention shifted to the small boy in the portrait. Something about him nagged at her memory. Then, she spotted it—the silver cross necklace around his neck.

Her breath caught.

Immediately, her mind drifted back to Ford. The night she had tended to him, she had noticed that same necklace resting against his collarbone.

They were identical.

"Ford…" she whispered, her eyes widening in realization.

Her gaze flicked back to the woman. It was his mother.

Understanding dawned on her like a weight dropping in her chest. Was this why Ford never allowed anyone to enter this room?

Her pulse quickened as she turned, realization sinking in. She had just trespassed into his late mother's room.

She had crossed the line.

Panic surged through her. She had to leave—immediately.

But just as she took a step toward the door, a voice stopped her cold.

Ford's voice.

It came from just beyond the door.

Her eyes widened in shock. Her breathing seized. Panic rooted her to the spot, making it impossible to move as fear consumed her.

"Elena, move your body!" she urged herself desperately, but her limbs refused to cooperate.

—

Ford had just returned home, feeling weak, exhausted, and utterly irritated. His day had been bad enough, and Sia had only made things worse.

He needed rest—his head was throbbing with pain.

"Welcome, sir," the butler greeted as Ford stepped inside.

Turning to face him, Ford asked, "Where is Elena?"

"She's in her room, sir," the butler replied.

"Did you make sure she ate?" Ford inquired, concern lacing his tone as he pressed his fingers against his temple, trying to ease the pounding in his head.

"I did, sir. But are you alright? Should I call the doctor?" Mr. Morgan, the butler, asked, noticing the dullness in Ford's eyes and the dryness of his lips.

"I'm fine. Don't worry about it," Ford replied quickly, forcing himself to stand straighter. The last thing he wanted was to raise further concern.

Without another word, he started up the grand staircase, heading toward Elena's room.

As he reached her door, he hesitated, his hand hovering over the knob. His mind flashed back to the last time he had barged in unannounced. A small smirk tugged at his lips at the memory.

Shaking off the thought, he knocked on the door, waiting for her to answer. Silence.

Frowning, he knocked again, this time with more impatience.

"Elena, it's me. I'm coming in," he called out.

Still, no response.

His concern deepened. Without further hesitation, he pushed open the door—only to be met with an eerily silent, empty room.

She wasn't there.

Something was wrong.

"Where was she?"

"Elena, are you here?" Ford called out as he stepped into the room. Silence.

Frowning, he moved toward the bathroom, listening for the sound of running water—but there was none.

She wasn't here.

Exiting the room, he nearly collided with a servant girl stepping out of his own bedroom, a mop in her hands.

"You there!" he called out sharply.

The girl flinched, bowing her head quickly. "Y-Yes, sir?" she answered in a nervous voice.

"Have you seen Elena?" he asked, irritation creeping into his tone.

"No, sir. But I last saw her heading toward her room," she replied cautiously.

"Her room?" Ford repeated, his brows furrowing. "Then where the hell is she?"

The girl stood frozen, unable to answer.

"Forget it. You can go," he dismissed her with a wave of his hand.

For a moment, he considered dropping the matter. Maybe he should rest first and look for her later. His head was still pounding from exhaustion.

But then—

A faint cough.

His body tensed wondering who had coughed.

Snapping his head up, he turned toward the sound, his sharp gaze scanning his surroundings. Without thinking, he walked into his room, his eyes darting around. But it was empty.

Had he imagined it?

With a frustrated sigh, he dropped his briefcase on the nearest surface, rubbing his temples. He must have been hearing things.

Stepping out once more, he paced down the corridor.

That was when his eyes landed on a familiar door.

His mother's room.

His chest tightened instantly. His expression darkened.

It had been a long time since he had stepped inside. The memories were too painful.

But today was different.

It was her birthday.

A hollow ache settled in his heart as he stood there, staring at the door. He suddenly felt the urge to see her pictures again—to remember her, if only for a moment.

Gently, he turned the knob and pushed the door open, stepping inside.

The room was bright.

His eyes widened in shock and confusion.

He was the last person to leave this room. And he vividly remembered switching off the lights before he left.

Ford was not one to forget such details.

A slow wave of unease settled over him. No one dared to defy his orders, especially when it came to his mother's room. Yet, someone had entered.

Anger surged within him. Whoever had disobeyed him was going to regret it.

Just as he was about to leave and investigate further, something stopped him.

A faint sound.

Breathing.

His body stiffened.

Then, almost immediately, a soft, feminine fragrance filled the air around him.

Someone was here.

His mind raced, but instead of reacting immediately, he decided to test his suspicion.

He stepped back toward the door, deliberately opening and closing it as though he had left.

Then he waited.

Silence.

No movement. Yet no one tried to slip out.

Narrowing his eyes, he reached for the switch and flicked off the lights.

The moment darkness swallowed the room—

Again someone muffled cough.