A week had passed in the peaceful estate of Poland.
Nora sat cross-legged in the living room, notebook in hand, a pencil between her fingers. Kiernan sat across from her, patiently helping her read out loud.
"Communication… skill…sss…" she squinted. "This word hates me."
Kiernan chuckled. "You're doing better than last time. Baby steps, Nora."
She rolled her eyes playfully. "I'm not a baby."
"But you talk like one," he teased.
She narrowed her eyes. "Rude, Professor."
That made Kiernan laugh.
Over the past week, he'd taught her how to write her name properly, basic grammar, how to send texts—and her newest obsession—video calling. Every night she'd sneak off to talk to one specific person.
Zayan.
Back in London, Zayan wasn't idle.
He had quietly begun a massive project—rebuilding Nora's childhood orphanage from the ground up. It was almost complete, shining with fresh walls, modern facilities, and warm beds for every child. The renovation was his birthday gift to her. Her birthday was coming soon—and he missed her more than he liked to admit.
At thirty, he never thought he'd fall so hard for someone like her. A wild, soft-eyed, stubborn girl who called him…
"Old Master."
Every time she said it, he smirked like a teenager in love.
That night, Zayan lay in bed, staring at the ceiling before drifting into sleep. In his dream, he was lying beside Nora, her small body curled into his chest as they cuddled in the sheets. She laughed softly, and he kissed her forehead. For once, peace.
He smiled in his sleep.
His mother quietly entered the room to check on him—and froze.
Zayan Kai, the Devil himself, was smiling in his sleep.
She gently closed the door, whispering, "That girl… what are you doing to my son?"
Morning came.
Nora's phone rang, and she immediately grinned. "Old Master."
Zayan's voice was deep and groggy on the line. "Hey, darling."
The second she heard his voice, butterflies danced in her stomach.
"U-uhm… m-morning."
"What's wrong?" he asked, still sounding half-asleep.
"N-nothing…" she whispered.
Suddenly, a loud bang echoed from downstairs—followed by another.
Zayan sat up, alarmed. "What was that?"
Still on the call, Nora rushed downstairs—and stopped dead in her tracks.
There was Asher, holding a gun. Rex stood behind him like a coach.
"Aim for the orange again. Focus."
Asher took the shot. Bullseye.
"What the fuck is going on?" she shouted.
Asher blinked. "Uh… learning?"
"TF do you mean learning?!"
"Nora, I want to protect you. And the orphanage. I need to know these things," he said, serious.
Zayan heard every word, silently listening.
Rex added, "He insisted, Nora."
She stared at them, furious.
"Calm down," Zayan finally said.
But she wasn't done. "Goodbye, old man," she snapped, ending the call.
He stared at the phone and muttered, "Who the fuck is old…?"
Later that evening, her phone buzzed again.
Zayan was calling.
This time, the tension was thick in the air.
"Nora," he began, voice stern. "Stop acting stubborn. You're not a kid."
She stayed quiet, then looked at him through the screen. "I'm not coming back. I'll stay in Poland."
Zayan's eyes narrowed.
"I'm just your sex toy. You don't love me at all."
"Nora, listen—"
"No, I—"
"NORA!" he shouted, loud enough to make her flinch.
Her eyes welled up, heart pounding.
"I will take you from there by force if I have to," he said, his voice dropping to a dark, icy growl.
She stared at him, hurt but defiant.
"Try to catch me if you can. Goodbye."
She ended the call.
Zayan stared at the blank screen for a second—then smirked.
"Cute," he muttered. "Alright. I'm coming, darling."
He snapped his fingers. "Pack my bags. Fuel the jet."
As his assistant scrambled, Zayan picked up his phone and called Shaw.
"I'm coming to Poland."
Shaw hesitated. "Why? What happened?"
Zayan's voice was calm. Deadly calm.
"Make preparations. The Devil is coming."