The first sign that someone was following Elena came on a Tuesday afternoon.

She had left Romano Estate to visit the small apartment in Lincoln Park where she'd lived before taking the maid's position.

The building was old but familiar.

Its narrow stairwell smelled of coffee and laundry detergent.

For a few minutes, Elena felt almost normal.

She collected some clothes, her father's old toolbox, and a stack of documents her mother had kept.

Then she noticed the black sedan.

It was parked across the street.

The same car had passed her twice on the way there.

Elena watched from the window.

The driver remained inside.

She took a photograph of the license plate.

When she stepped outside, the sedan's engine started.

Elena walked faster.

The car moved slowly behind her.

She turned onto a busier street.

The sedan followed.

Her pulse quickened.

She reached for her phone.

Before she could call anyone, another vehicle pulled to the curb.

A familiar voice spoke.

"Miss Brooks. Get in."

Michael Hayes sat behind the wheel.

Elena stopped.

"How did you find me?"

"Mr. Romano asked me to check on you."

"Without telling me?"

Michael looked toward the black sedan.

"That car has been following you since the estate."

Elena's anger disappeared.

"Who is it?"

"We don't know."

The sedan accelerated.

Michael stepped out of his vehicle.

The other driver immediately turned at the intersection and disappeared.

Michael watched it go.

Then he looked at Elena.

"Please get in."

This time, she did.

When they returned to Romano Estate, Vincent was waiting in the foyer.

He took one look at Elena's face.

"What happened?"

"Someone followed me."

"Did they approach you?"

"No."

"Did they threaten you?"

"Not directly."

Vincent turned toward Michael.

"Find the car."

"Already working on it."

Vincent looked back at Elena.

"You're staying here until we know who's behind this."

She folded her arms.

"That sounds like an order."

"It sounds like common sense."

"I won't be locked inside your house."

"You won't be."

"Then don't speak to me as if I'm one of your employees."

Vincent stopped.

The accusation was fair.

He took a breath.

"You're right."

Elena blinked.

He continued.

"I'd like you to stay because I believe you're in danger. But the decision is yours."

She studied him.

The Vincent Romano who had ordered her searched at dinner would never have spoken that way.

"One night," she said.

"One night."

"And I want access to the records we found."

"You'll have it."

"And no one enters my room without permission."

Vincent nodded.

"Agreed."

That evening, Elena sat alone in a guest room on the second floor.

It was larger than her entire apartment.

The bed was covered with white linen.

A small fireplace stood opposite the windows.

She felt uncomfortable accepting such luxury.

But she felt even more uncomfortable admitting she was relieved to be safe.

A knock sounded.

"Elena?"

Vincent.

She opened the door.

He stood holding a tray.

"Coffee."

She looked at him.

"Did you make that?"

"Yes."

"You're the head of a criminal empire, and you make coffee?"

"Badly, according to Michael."

Despite herself, Elena smiled.

Vincent noticed.

It was the first genuine smile he'd seen from her.

He handed her the cup.

She tasted it.

Her expression changed.

"That's terrible."

"I warned you."

She laughed softly.

The sound surprised them both.

Vincent leaned against the doorframe.

"Can we talk?"

Elena stepped aside.

He entered but remained near the doorway.

She sat in an armchair.

Vincent took the chair opposite.

For a moment, neither spoke.

Then Elena asked:

"Why did you really kneel?"

Vincent looked at her.

"At the dinner?"

"Yes."

He considered the question.

"Because I thought you were dead."

"That doesn't explain everything."

"No."

He looked down at his hands.

"For fifteen years, I've remembered that fire. The smoke. The pain. The feeling of being trapped."

Elena listened.

"I remember hearing your voice," he continued. "You kept telling me not to close my eyes."

She looked toward the fireplace.

"I was afraid you'd die."

"I know."

"You were so heavy. I couldn't pull you at first."

Vincent smiled faintly.

"I've been told I'm difficult to move."

Elena almost laughed again.

Then her expression became serious.

"I went back because my father taught me that you don't leave people behind."

Vincent looked at her.

"That's why you saved me?"

"Yes."

"Even though you didn't know me?"

"Especially because I didn't know you."

He was silent.

Elena continued.

"My father used to say that helping someone isn't a transaction. You don't do it because you expect something back."

Vincent lowered his eyes.

"I wish I'd known him."

"You might not have liked him."

"Why?"

"He hated men who used fear to get what they wanted."

Vincent gave a quiet, humorless laugh.

"Then he definitely wouldn't have liked me."

Elena studied him.

"Maybe not."

Their eyes met.

Something shifted between them.

Not forgiveness.

Not love.

But a fragile understanding.

Vincent spoke quietly.

"You don't owe me anything, Elena."

She looked at him.

"Good."

"And I won't ask you to forgive my family."

"Good."

"But I am going to find out what happened to your father."

Elena felt her throat tighten.

"Why?"

Vincent answered without hesitation.

"Because he deserved better."

For several seconds, she could not speak.

Then she whispered:

"Thank you."

Vincent stood.

He moved toward the door.

"Try to get some sleep."

"Vincent?"

He turned.

She hesitated.

"Be careful."

His expression softened.

"I will."

After he left, Elena sat beside the fireplace for a long time.

She had come to the estate expecting a monster.

She was beginning to see a man who had inherited one.

Downstairs, Michael entered Vincent's office carrying a tablet.

"Sir, we recovered part of the deleted security footage."

Vincent stood.

"Show me."

The video displayed a corridor inside Romano Estate.

Richard appeared at 11:43 p.m.

He entered the private security office.

Several minutes later, an unidentified man joined him.

Michael increased the volume.

The audio was faint but understandable.

The stranger spoke first.

"The girl knows about the fire."

Richard looked toward the camera.

Then he said:

"Then finish what we started fifteen years ago."

Vincent's face went cold.

Michael paused the video.

"Sir?"

Vincent stared at his uncle's face.

The man who had raised him after his father's illness.

The man who had taught him how to negotiate.

The man who had stood beside him at his father's funeral.

Vincent felt something inside him break.

"Get me everything on Richard," he said.

"Financial records, phone records, property transfers. Everything."

Michael nodded.

"And Elena?"

Vincent looked toward the ceiling.

"Double security around her room."

"Should I tell her?"

Vincent hesitated.

Then he shook his head.

"No. I'll tell her myself."

But before he could leave the office, his phone vibrated.

A new message.

A photograph of Elena sleeping in the guest room.

Taken from inside the room.

Below it were four words.

YOU CAN'T PROTECT HER.

Vincent stared at the screen.

Then he ran.