Chapter 11

From now onwards I'm writing it as Maya's first person perspective.

The moment Ethan walked out of my cabin, I felt the air shift. I waited, hoping—foolishly—that he was finally gone. But then I heard a chair scraping nearby. I frowned and walked to the side window that overlooked the next cabin.

He sat there. Calm. Relaxed. As if he belonged.

"What are you doing?" I asked, narrowing my eyes at him through the glass.

He leaned back in the chair, laced his fingers behind his head, and smiled lazily. "Looks like you're not as smart as you thought you were, Maya."

I blinked. "Excuse me?"

He pointed casually at the wall. "You only bought half the property, genius. This half? Mine."

He chuckled, and I swear the sound felt like nails dragging across a chalkboard. I turned sharply toward Catherine.

She couldn't meet my eyes. Her head was already lowered, her silence loud.

"You've got to be kidding me…" I muttered under my breath. My jaw clenched. Maya, you really are unlucky and not so smart, I thought bitterly. One damn oversight, and of course it had to involve him.

My phone buzzed.

I pulled it out, needing any excuse to anchor myself. The caller ID made my stomach drop. Dad.

I walked back into my office, shut the door behind me, and answered. "Dad?"

"Maya, why are you still not here? Didn't you say you both were coming today?"

I froze.

You both.

Noah.

My thoughts scrambled for a response. Do I tell him about the mess here? The chaos, the humiliating mistake, the fact that Ethan Cole is sitting just one cabin away? That my entire staff saw him mock me, and I couldn't say a damn thing because—technically—he was right?

No. Absolutely not.

"Dad—" my voice cracked slightly. I took a breath and forced it back. "There's just been a lot at the office. Something urgent came up."

A beat of silence. Then, "Maya? What's wrong? Is everything alright? Do you want me to come there?"

"No," I cut in quickly. "No, Dad. No need. I'll handle it. I'll come later, but tell Mom it might take some time."

I could hear the concern in his voice, but I couldn't let it grow. Especially not now. If he knew Ethan was here—if he knew Noah was this close to him—he would lose his mind.

"Alright… just call me once you leave," he said, reluctantly.

"Yeah. I will. Bye."

I hung up and exhaled deeply, rubbing my forehead.

Instinct told me to look up—and I did.

And of course, Ethan was already watching.

Through the glass wall between us, our eyes locked. There was something in his stare—not smug this time. Just… unreadable. Familiar in a way I didn't like.

I turned away and yanked the blinds closed.

No. I can't.

I grabbed my phone and texted Dane:

Don't bring Noah here. Take him to my hotel room.

He responded almost instantly:

Alright. But is everything okay?

Yeah. I'll tell you in person later.

I tossed my phone aside and leaned back in my chair, massaging my temples. My head throbbed—not just from stress, but from the overwhelming weight of his presence.

Why now?

Why here?

Why does it still feel like he sees through me, even after all these years?

Time passed, though I couldn't tell how much. Eventually, I stood, walked toward the window, and hesitantly cracked it open.

He was still there.

Still watching.

Still looking like he knew something.

I slammed the blinds shut again, my heart thudding far too fast.

What the hell does he know?

And why do I feel like this is only the beginning?