CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

"This is madness," I said to Melody, my voice cool, low, laced with the kind of disbelief that's usually reserved for crime documentaries and horror movies.

She was sitting elegantly on her cushion bar stool, arms folded tight across her chest like she was holding something in. Or trying not to explode. "It's not madness, Sinclair. It's a good idea."

"A good idea?" I scoffed, dragging a hand down my face and letting it linger at my jaw. "Since when is it a good idea to put someone in discomfort for your own comfort?"

Her lips tightened. "You don't get it. Saavni threatened me."

I leaned against the granite kitchen island, one brow cocked. "And that suddenly justifies everything? I'm not defending Saavni, Melody. I'm just—this is basic human decency."

She paused, turned to face me like I'd said something unforgivable. "Basic decency? She threatened me, Sinclair."

"Yeah," I replied, voice steady. "And you want to retaliate by pinning a cold serial killer case on her? That's not justice. That's not self-defense. That's extreme, and you know it."

"I don't have a choice!" she snapped.

"There's always a choice," I shot back, pushing off the counter and meeting her glare head-on. "And the right one? Is not being evil to someone just so you can sleep better at night."

That did it.

Her eyes flashed. "Are you sleeping with her?"

The question landed like a brick to the chest. I blinked, stunned by how fast she'd dived right into a full-blown accusation.

"Wait, what?" I said, taken aback. "Seriously?"

She didn't flinch. "Did you sleep with her, Sinclair? Is that why you're defending her like this?"

"Really?" I ran a hand through my hair and let out a bitter laugh. "You think the reason I'm asking you not to frame an innocent woman for serial murder is because I'm fucking her?"

Melody took a step forward, hurt dancing behind her eyes. "Then explain it to me like I'm five why you won't accept this plan. Don't you want to settle with me?"

I exhaled hard through my nose and looked away, gathering my thoughts like shattered glass.

"You didn't even ask," I said finally, my voice dropping to something more honest. "You just told your father we were getting married, like it was already set in stone. You never asked if I was ready. If I even wanted that."

She stared at me. "Don't you?"

"Not right now," I said, trying to keep my tone even, calm. "I'm just getting started, Mel. My career as a reporter—it's just beginning. And I'm still knee-deep in the Dear Diary case."

She threw her arms up. "Which is why I've created an easy route for you!" Her voice cracked. "Saavni takes the fall, and boom—you can finally complete your first article. Big break, right?"

My patience snapped.

"It's not about the goddamn article!" I yelled, stepping forward. "Don't you get it? This is about Darren."

Silence.

Then she blinked. Her voice was low but sharp. "When I met you, I thought you had healed from Darren's death. I thought I was part of that healing. I thought—" she paused, her throat working to swallow whatever was caught there, "—I thought we were healing together."

I shook my head slowly. "Healing doesn't mean letting go, Melody. I have healed. But I haven't let go. I can't. I won't. I still plan to bring the real murderer to justice. And no one—not even you—is going to stop that."

She took a step back like my words had physically struck her. Her eyes started to gloss over.

"Everyone told me you were the wrong man, Sinclair."

I blinked.

"I was told you were below me," she said, the venom in her voice laced with something more painful than hate—disappointment. "That you weren't worth my time. And I always thought they were just being snobs. But now?"

A tear slipped free down her bare caked face.

"Now I believe them."

The room stood still.

Then, in a voice so soft it barely carried over the bustle of the city below us, she whispered, "Get out. Don't call. Don't come back. Just… disappear."

I swallowed, jaw tense.

I gave her a single nod.

"I'm not letting us go," I said quietly. "I'm still holding onto our love, Mel."

And then I turned.

I didn't slam the door. I didn't curse or plead or scream. I just walked out of her penthouse—calm, head high—and let the silence between us speak louder than either of us ever could.

By the time I met Saavni at the restaurant, I was thirty minutes late. That's the kind of thing I normally avoid—I don't like keeping people waiting. Feels disrespectful. But after the verbal battlefield I'd just walked out of with Melody, I needed to clear my head. Or at least pretend I could.

So I stepped into the restaurant with my collar still turned from the wind, checked the place quickly, and spotted her near the corner booth. Corporate wear. Dark blazer, white blouse, legs crossed with confidence like she'd been there for hours, and still owned the place.

I walked up. "Hey. Sorry for being late," I said, slipping into the seat across from her. "Traffic was ridiculous."

That was a lie. I just stared at the wall for fifteen minutes outside the building, trying to understand how the hell Melody thought framing her was the only way to have us settle.

Saavni looked up from the menu, and there was no trace of annoyance in her eyes. Just a calm sort of patience. "It's fine. I figured you'd come eventually. Or not."

I chuckled, impressed. "So you came ready to be stood up?"

"No. I came ready for anything."

Okay. Cool.

She looked exactly like what she was supposed to be—a publicist with her shit together. Professional, poised. Not someone who'd threaten Melody. Not someone who'd ever raise her voice to Oliver. And definitely not someone hiding the kind of secrets that clung to my every thought.

Still, I studied her. The way she placed her order. The soft way she said "no onions" to the waiter like even vegetables owed her respect. Her face was smooth. Clear. No scars. No visible reminders of any violent past.

But then—I saw it.

A small mark. Right there on her jaw. So faint you'd miss it unless you were looking too long. And I was.

I squinted, not enough to be rude, just enough to sharpen my gaze. It looked like something that had once been brutal. A split jaw, maybe. A car crash. A fight. Something that didn't heal all the way. The kind of thing that leaves series of trauma rather than full-blown declarations.

I looked away quickly as the waiter turned to me. "Same as hers," I muttered, handing him my menu.

When he left, Saavni tilted her head slightly. "You okay?"

"Yeah." I shrugged, resting my forearms on the table. "Just gathering my thoughts."

That wasn't entirely a lie.

She laughed softly, but there was a flicker in her eyes. "How come you've never asked about me? My family?"

I raised a brow. "Well, I guess that is what happens when someone is not the curious type."

She studied me.

"Still, you should know."

I straightened. "It's not going to leave this table. Shoot."

Her gaze dropped to her fingers, picking slightly at the corner of her napkin. Then, with a sigh, she leaned back. "I'm an orphan," she said plainly. "Grew up in an orphanage home."

That? That I didn't expect.

Not the confession itself, but the way she offered it up. No hesitation. No shame. As if she'd said it a million times, or never said it before and was relieved to finally let it go.

I kept my voice even. "Which orphanage?"

She smiled faintly. "Blossom Home."

My stomach turned.

Blossom Home.

The exact place. She was really the one in that picture. And, she was not denying. Not hiding it.

Which meant what? She was clean? Innocent?

Or a damn good liar? Or both?

"Do you remember anyone from there?"

She pursed her lips, thinking. "Mm… it's been so long, but…" Her face lit up suddenly. "Darren!"

That name felt like a bullet to the ribs.

She laughed lightly, the sound almost fond. "God, I had the biggest crush on him. But he always had too many girls around. Like… magnet levels of attention."

I forced a nod. Swallowed the lump that had formed in my throat.

"He's the only one I really remember," she continued. "I wasn't there for long before I was adopted. But Darren… he had these two friends that were always with him."

My pulse kicked. "Two?"

She nodded, brows knitting as she squinted again, like reaching back to the memory desperately. "Yeah. One was a girl, and the other… a boy. I never saw the face of the boy. Always in a hoodie. Black. Always hiding. But you could smell him before you saw him. Iceberg Rose. That scent? It stuck to him like second skin."

I felt my stomach twist, all the waste in the pit of it threatening to spill out.

Iceberg rose? She can't be serious.

I didn't speak. I let her keep going, my mind reeling.

"The girl," Saavni said with a soft chuckle, "God, she was beautiful. Like unfairly so. I only saw her once, maybe twice, but she had this glow, you know? Like she didn't belong in that place. Like none of us did." She smiled to herself, "I was jealous actually. She was the main reason I gave up the chance of approaching Darren before even letting the idea sink in."

I raised an eyebrow. "You thought she was dating Darren?"

She tilted her head, grinned a little. "I did. Until one night… I saw her making out with the boy in the black hoodie."

The air caught in my lungs.

She didn't know it, but she was talking about the person in apartment 204. Me. Darren. All of it. The triangle none of us survived.

The waiter arrived then, saving me from the reaction I didn't want to show. Plates clinked. Aromas rose. We both said "thank you" at the same time, and he left us in the heavy pause between memories.

"Do you know what happened after you were adopted?" I asked in a soft tone, ensuring I wasn't sounding too desperate. I cut into my food more out of habit than hunger.

Saavni took a bite of hers, chewed slowly. "No. But… three years after I left, the orphanage just… disappeared."

I looked up sharply. "Disappeared?"

She nodded, setting her fork down. "It was like the world ended there. Everyone gone. Beds still made. Computers still on. But no humans in sight. Just silence."

I waited. I knew there was more.

She swallowed hard, like the next part hurt. "Two years later, they found bodies. In the woods near the home."

She didn't say "bodies" like most people do. She said it like the word itself was a corpse.

"Skeletal remains. Everyone in the orphanage. Except Darren. And his two friends."

The breath left my lungs like someone had kicked it out of me.

She looked up, searching my face for some sort of reaction.

I gave her none.

But inside?

I was burning.