Chapter -5

Ian's POV

I opened my eyes to the harsh morning light seeping through the curtains. My head throbbed, my body felt heavy, and my mind was still tangled in the remnants of that damn dream.

The hell was that? A dream? Fuck.

I dragged a hand down my face, exhaling sharply. The air conditioner hummed softly, its chill biting against my skin, yet a thin layer of sweat clung to my forehead. I pushed myself out of bed, my steps sluggish as I made my way to the bathroom. Turning on the tap, I splashed cold water on my face, gripping the edges of the sink as I met my own gaze in the mirror. My reflection stared back—tired, disheveled, and yet, behind the exhaustion, something deeper lurked.

Evelyn.

You died, and you're still haunting me. Still giving me nightmares.

A sharp knock on the door pulled me out of my thoughts. I knew who it was before I even turned around. Lily.

I opened the door and walked back to my bedroom without a word. She was already inside, placing a cup of coffee on my bedside table with the same efficiency she carried in everything she did.

"So, here's your morning coffee," she said, her voice crisp as ever, before holding out a tablet. "And this… is all the reports about that girl who burned herself."

Evelyn.

I took the tablet from her but didn't glance at it immediately. Instead, my eyes flickered to her face, sharp and professional as always. But then I noticed the faint red marks trailing down her neck, barely visible but unmistakable. Love bites.

She went back to Joseph last night… and yet, here she is—on time, reports in hand, work as flawless as ever.

I leaned back against the bedpost, tilting my head slightly as I observed her. "Lily." My voice came out quieter than I expected.

She looked up. "Hmm?"

"How do you know you still have feelings for Joseph?"

Her brows knitted together slightly, confusion flickering across her face.

"You and he rarely meet. You're always occupied with work, always running around taking care of everything. Doesn't it get exhausting?" I asked, genuinely curious. How does she hold onto something so strongly when everything around her is constantly moving?

She raised a brow at me, arms crossing over her chest. "Why are you suddenly interested in my life, Mr. Sinclair?"

I opened my mouth, but before I could even form an answer, she continued, her voice steady, unwavering.

"And before you ask anything else—I won't break up with Joseph."

A slow smirk tugged at the corner of Lily's lips, her arms still crossed as she leaned against the wall. "Why? You planning to offer me a better deal, Mr. Sinclair?" Her voice dripped with amusement, eyes gleaming with challenge.

I scoffed, shaking my head as I took a sip of my coffee. "I was just asking."

"Right," she drawled, tilting her head. "Because Ian Sinclair—the great chairman, the man who doesn't give a damn about emotions—suddenly wants to discuss feelings over morning coffee?" She let out a short laugh. "I should've recorded this. Joseph would've lost his mind hearing you talk about love."

I rolled my eyes, placing the cup back on the table. "Forget I asked."

"Oh, no, no, no." She pushed off the wall, stepping closer, her expression downright entertained. "This is new. Mr. Sinclair, who once told me that 'childhood love never lasts' and mocked me for believing in it, is now curious about how I know I still love my boyfriend?" She tapped a finger on her chin, pretending to be deep in thought. "Hmm… What could have possibly happened? Oh wait—could it be Evelyn Winslow?"

At her name, my grip on the tablet tightened, but I kept my face blank. Lily noticed, of course. She always did.

"Bingo," she said, a knowing smirk playing on her lips. "So, what is it? Did she appear in your dreams all tragic and beautiful, making you question your entire existence? Or are you finally realizing that throwing yourself into work and playing the perfect son, boyfriend, and businessman still left you feeling empty?"

I shot her a glare. "You talk too much."

"And you avoid too much." She shrugged. "I guess we both have our talents."

I exhaled sharply, dragging a hand through my hair. "She's dead, Lily."

Her smirk faltered slightly, but her sarcasm didn't waver. "Yeah, so are half your emotions, but that never stopped you from functioning like a robot."

I clenched my jaw. "I don't need your analysis on my personal life."

"And yet, here we are," she said sweetly. "You, bringing up feelings over breakfast, and me, graciously offering my expert opinion." She placed a hand on her chest dramatically. "Truly, it's an honor to witness this rare, vulnerable moment of Ian Sinclair."

"Get out," I muttered, shaking my head.

She grinned. "Gladly. Just don't have another existential crisis before lunch." She turned toward the door, but then stopped and glanced back. "Oh, and if you're planning to dig into Evelyn's past, be careful. Dead or alive, some ghosts don't like being disturbed."

With that, she walked out, leaving me alone with my thoughts.

I let out a slow breath and looked down at the tablet in my hands. The screen was still dark, but I knew the moment I turned it on, I would be opening a door I might never be able to close.

Evelyn Winslow, age 27. Cause of death: self-immolation.

The words from last night echoed in my mind.

"Save Evelyn Winslow from dying."

I clenched my fists.

Why the hell did it have to be me?