ALIBI

Chapter Twenty-four

MOMENTS OF DEFIANCE

Elara woke slowly, the way one does when there is no fear tugging them back into consciousness.

For a few seconds, she didn’t move. She listened to the soft, even rhythm of breathing beside her, the quiet rise and fall that told her everything was still all right. Then she turned her head, careful not to disturb him, and smiled.

Noah.


He lay curled toward her, his small body warm against her side, one hand fisted in the hem of her nightgown as if she might disappear if he let go. His lashes rested dark and thick against his cheeks, his lips parted slightly in sleep. His hair was a soft mess, curling in every direction against the pillow.

He looked peaceful.


Safe.

It had been almost a week since he returned.

A week that felt like borrowed time.

Elara traced his face with her eyes, memorizing him all over again. The faint scar near his eyebrow from when he had fallen at the orphanage. The way his lashes seemed darker when he slept. The tiny crease between his brows that appeared when he dreamed.

Every day since had felt unreal, like living inside something fragile—something beautiful she was afraid to touch too hard, afraid to believe in for too long.

His presence had changed everything.

With Noah here, the penthouse felt different. Less hollow. Less like a beautifully furnished cage. The silence no longer pressed in on her ears. There was noise now—laughter, questions, the quick rhythm of running feet.

Cartoons played in the background, voices bright and exaggerated. Cereal bowls sat half-finished on the dinner table. Toys were forgotten in corners, small and scattered, like proof that someone had lived fully in the space and moved on without fear.

There was life.

And for the first time in a very long time, Elara felt… free.

Not completely. Never completely.

But enough to breathe.

She glanced toward the door.

Adrian would be leaving for work soon.

She could already picture it—the precise timing, the crisp suit, the familiar weight of expectation settling over her shoulders before he even spoke. She would be there to see him off. She always was.

She would stand by his side, composed and present, her posture careful, her expression soft and agreeable. Ready to offer whatever reassurance he required before he stepped back into the world where he was powerful, admired, unquestioned.

Where no one saw the cost.

She didn’t want to go.

So she stayed still.

She had been doing that since Noah came back—lingering in his room in the mornings, letting Adrian leave without her, claiming sleep where there was really only choice.

She let herself pretend to be asleep—just for this period—that this was her life. That this small room, this quiet moment, this child holding onto her nightgown, was all that existed.

It was a small act of defiance, barely visible, almost imperceptible—but she knew Adrian would notice. He always did. She had caught the sharp, assessing looks he gave her over the past few nights at dinner, the kind that said, I see what you’re doing.