I REFUSE TO BE HIS VICTIM

“You're awake.”

The voice was deep, even, and unfamiliar in a way that made me feel strangely safe.

I opened my eyes to a white ceiling and a tall man standing beside the bed. Adrian Sterling. Crown City's most intimidating heir, according to every business magazine that had ever put his photograph on the cover.

I'd met him at a handful of charity events. I remembered sharp dark hair, gray eyes, and a black suit that seemed less like clothing than armor. He was twenty-nine, ran Sterling Holdings, and never wasted a word.

Now his sleeves were rolled to his forearms, and there was dried salt on the cuff of his shirt.

“You collapsed by the overlook,” he said. “I saw you go down. A doctor checked you when we arrived. You're dehydrated, exhausted, and lucky you didn't hit your head.”

“Where are we?”

“A private medical residence attached to my estate. You're free to leave when the doctor clears you.” He paused. “Would you like me to call someone?”

The simple question nearly undid me. Julian would have called whoever he pleased, then told me I was making trouble.

“My brother,” I said. “Noah Bennett.”

Adrian handed me a charged phone and stepped toward the door to give me privacy. I stopped him.

“Why were you on that road?”

“I was coming back from a board dinner.” His gaze lingered on my face. “I saw you standing alone. I pulled over because you didn't look steady.”

He left before I could ask anything else.

Noah answered on the second ring. When I told him what happened at the party, he went very still. He'd warned me about Julian more times than I could count. He didn't say I told you so.

“Come home,” he said.

“I want to. But I need to do this properly.”

He heard something in my voice. “What do you need?”

“My passport, my bank documents, my studio contract. And a lawyer who can make sure Julian can't get information about me through our family's offices.”

“You have one. Me.”

By lunchtime, I had blocked Julian's number, changed the passwords on every account he knew existed, and emailed the restoration studio to ask whether the position was still available. I had neglected my own life for so long that each small decision felt like learning to walk.

Then my new phone rang through an old number that had forwarded automatically. Julian.

“Where the hell are you?” he demanded when I answered. “You made everyone uncomfortable last night.”

“I won't be coming over anymore.”

“Don't be dramatic. I told you from the beginning we weren't dating.”

“And I've finally listened.”

“Elliot, I need you to pick up my car from the garage.”

I stared at the phone. Even now.

“Do it yourself.”

There was a long silence.

“What did you just say?”

“Goodbye, Julian.”

I ended the call. My hands shook, but not from regret.

That afternoon, Adrian found me sitting on the veranda with the book of futures still burning behind my eyes.

“I think something terrible will happen if I go back to him,” I said.

Adrian didn't ask me to explain the impossible. “Has he threatened you?”

“More than once.”

“Then we treat that as real, whether or not he follows through. We document it. Your brother can help.”

I thought of a version of myself who would be struck, crushed, ruined, and then expected to say thank you for a happy ending.

“What do you want from me?” I asked.

His expression changed, a flicker of pain disappearing almost before I recognized it.

“Nothing you don't want to give.”

“Nobody helps someone for nothing.”

“Then let me be the first.”

The next morning I tried to visit my old apartment with an escort arranged by Noah. A man I recognized from Julian's security detail was waiting near the garage entrance. When he saw me, he reached for his phone.

We left without getting out of the car.

I felt the old fear close around my lungs. I could block a number, but Julian could still send men to find me. The future I had seen suddenly seemed less like a fantasy and more like a warning.

That evening the weather service announced a powerful coastal storm. The forecast struck a nerve. I remembered pages about a storm, a road, and the sea. In the old story, a staged misunderstanding had driven Julian and me onto the coastal highway days before an accident.

I was tired of running circles around the same man.

“If I disappear,” I said to Adrian, “he'll eventually stop looking.”

“We can help you relocate safely.”

I watched rain gather on the windows. “What if he thought I was dead?”

Adrian went completely still.

“Elliot,” he said, pulling up a chair opposite mine, “tell me exactly what you're thinking.”