marked by midnight: the enemy's heiress-Chapter 48 : Livia - VI

After a long moment of silence, Livia finally spoke.

"So... the puzzle fits," she said slowly, her voice measured, almost detached. "Most of it, at least."

Ryan, standing across from her, lifted his head. He had been leaning against the table, arms braced behind him as if holding himself upright required effort. The faint hum of the room felt louder than it should have. He frowned slightly, the lines between his brows tightening.

"Most?"

She tilted her head, studying him—not suspicious, not defensive. Just observant. The kind of look that stripped excuses down to their bones. Then she leaned back against the table, folding her arms loosely, a habit she slipped into when she was thinking too hard, when her mind was already ten steps ahead of the conversation.

"Yeah," she said. "There’s still one piece missing."

His brows knit together. "What piece?"

Livia’s gaze sharpened, narrowing not with accusation but curiosity. It was the look she wore when something didn’t add up and she refused to ignore it—when instinct and logic collided and logic lost.

"If he already took away your girlfriend," she said calmly, almost clinically, "why is he dating me now?"

The question landed heavier than she expected.

For a brief second, Ryan didn’t respond. The silence stretched, dense and uncomfortable. His jaw tightened, muscles flickering beneath the skin, and his eyes dropped, not in guilt, but in something closer to disturbance. For the first time since he’d begun talking, since he’d been laying facts out like pieces on a board, he looked genuinely unsettled.

Livia noticed.

She always did.

She pushed herself off the table and straightened, grounding herself with the motion. "I’m going to look into this myself," she added, her tone firm but controlled. "I don’t like half-truths. And I really don’t like being someone’s coincidence."

The word lingered in the air, coincidence as if daring him to argue.

She reached for her bag, slinging it over her shoulder. The movement was decisive, final, the kind that signaled she’d already made up her mind.

"But for now..." She paused, just long enough for sincerity to slip through. "Thank you. For coming. And for telling me your side of the story."

She stepped closer and extended her hand.

Ryan blinked once, surprised, not by the gesture itself, but by what it meant. He straightened and took her hand. His grip was warm, steady, grounding. He let out a quiet chuckle, shaking his head slightly as he looked away, as if amused by the absurdity of it all.

"You know," he said lightly, "most people don’t thank me after I drop emotional landmines into their day."

Livia smirked faintly. "I’m built different."

He looked back at her then, eyes lingering a second longer than necessary. There was something unreadable there,respect, maybe. Or recognition.

"Yeah," he said softly. "I noticed."

The pause between them stretched—not awkward, not heavy. Just present. Charged in a way neither of them named.

"Be careful, Livia," he added, his voice still playful but edged with sincerity. "You have a habit of walking straight into trouble."

She raised an eyebrow. "Funny," she replied. "I was about to say the same thing about you."

He released her hand, reluctantly. "If you ever need help... or answers," he said with a shrug, "I seem to be good at providing the inconvenient kind."

She turned toward the door, then glanced back once, her expression unreadable.

"Good," she said. "I don’t trust the convenient ones anyway."

As she stepped outside, Ryan watched her go, exhaling slowly, tension leaving him all at once.

"Trouble," he murmured to himself.

"But the kind that makes you forget why you were avoiding it in the first place."

...

Outside, a faint smile curved Livia’s lips, it was small, tired, but real.

Then it vanished.

Her steps slowed. Her breath caught.

Across the street, something pulled her attention with sudden force, sharp and undeniable, like a hook beneath her ribs. Her eyes narrowed, locking onto a familiar silhouette.

"No way..." she whispered.

The disbelief didn’t last long.

It hardened. Clarified.

She turned on her heel and walked straight back inside, grabbed Ryan’s hand without explanation, and pulled.

"Come," she said, already moving.

"Hey! Livia?" Ryan stumbled a step, startled first by the urgency, then by her grip. His gaze flicked from her face to their joined hands, then instinctively followed where she was dragging him.

They stepped back outside.

She released him only to point sharply toward a parked car. "Isn’t that... Jason?"

Ryan squinted, heart thudding before his mind caught up.

Then his shoulders stiffened.

"...Yeah," he said quietly. "That’s him."

Livia’s jaw tightened. "I knew it."

They watched as Jason leaned casually against the car, far too relaxed. Comfortable in a way that felt earned. A second later, the passenger door opened.

A woman stepped out.

She laughed softly at something he said, adjusting her bag with practiced ease.

Ryan felt it before he fully registered it.

"And that is..." His voice faltered.

Livia didn’t look at him.

"...Nina," he finished, barely above a breath.

The air thickened instantly.

Memories surged in violently, uninvited, sharp. Her smile. Her voice. The way she used to look at him when she thought he wasn’t being watched. The way trust had once felt effortless.

His chest tightened painfully.

Livia glanced at him once, then back at the scene. Her expression wasn’t shock anymore.

It was cold, deliberate clarity.

"So," she said slowly, almost to herself, "this is interesting."

Jason laughed again, too comfortable. Nina brushed past him, familiar in a way that felt routine. Intimate without effort.

"They look cozy," Livia added.

Ryan exhaled through his nose. "They always did."

She scoffed lightly. "He tells me he’s busy. Exhausted. Work, stress, timing." Her lips pressed into a thin line. "Apparently, timing works just fine."

"I’m sorry you had to see it like this," Ryan said, quietly.

"No," she replied immediately. "I’m glad I did."

Her eyes stayed fixed on Jason. "Because now I know one thing for sure."

He waited.

"Someone’s lying," she said quietly. "And I really don’t like being lied to."

Across the street, Jason opened the car door and slid inside. Nina followed, settling into the passenger seat with ease. The engine started. The car pulled away.

Livia didn’t blink.

"Let’s chase them," she said suddenly.

Ryan turned sharply. "What?"

"I want to catch them red-handed."

"Isn’t knowing enough?" he asked, incredulous. "Why waste your time on cheaters?"

She looked at him then, a spark lighting her eyes despite the ache beneath her ribs. Controlled. Dangerous.

"Because it gives me thrills."

He scoffed. "No."

"Yes, you are."

She grabbed his wrist and pulled him toward her car. Ryan protested under his breath, but she was already unlocking the doors.

"This is a bad idea," he muttered as they got in.

"You say that like it’ll stop me," she replied, starting the engine.

They followed at a careful distance. Livia’s hands were steady on the wheel, but her heart wasn’t. It pounded hard-part adrenaline, part something far more bitter. Each turn tightened the knot in her chest.

"You’re oddly calm," Ryan said.

"I’m not calm," she replied. "I’m furious in an organized way."

Jason’s car slowed. Turned. Stopped.

An apartment complex came into view-

quiet, painfully ordinary.

"There," Ryan said softly.

Livia parked a few meters away and cut the engine.

Silence settled.

They watched as Jason stepped out first, glancing around casually. Nina followed, keys already in hand. No hesitation. No space between them.

Like it was a routine.

Livia swallowed. A sharp ache bloomed in her chest, not just betrayal, but realization. She had been falling for him. Slowly. Carefully. And blindly.

She exhaled through her nose. "Wow," she murmured. "I really know how to pick them."

Ryan said nothing. He didn’t need to.

"So," she said quietly, opening the car door, "now comes the fun part."

He looked at her. "And what’s that?"

She stepped out, eyes fixed ahead.

"Watching liars panic," she said, a smirk tugging at her lips.

Jason and Nina walked into the apartment building without a second glance back.

"It’s Nina’s place," Ryan said quietly, recognition settling in his voice.

Livia shot him a look, one eyebrow lifting. "Seems like you’ve visited here often."

He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "Unfortunately... yes."

She didn’t comment. She was already moving.

They slipped inside after them, steps light, the building eerily quiet. The kind of quiet that made every sound feel intrusive. Their footsteps echoed softly in the stairwell.

"This is ridiculous," Ryan whispered, more to himself than her.

They stopped just in time to see Jason and Nina unlock a door and disappear into a flat. The door shut with a soft click that sounded far louder than it should have.

Ryan exhaled. "Okay. That’s it. What now? Let’s go back."

She turned to him sharply, frustration flashing. "What? That’s it for you?"

"We saw enough," he said. "We know what they are."

She folded her arms. "Wow. You give up easily." She leaned closer, voice low. "You keep saying ’let’s go’ like this is a fire drill."

He blinked. "This isn’t-"

"We came this far," she cut in. "My trust just got demolished, and now you want to walk away?"

Ryan stared at her. "Livia, this isn’t a movie. We’re standing outside someone’s apartment like confused burglars."

"First of all, rude," she said. "Second—fine. Not burglars." She paused. "Investigators."

He groaned quietly. "I regret following you."

She smirked, though her eyes were tight. "Too late. You’re already an accomplice."

They stood there in the dim hallway, the closed door in front of them heavier than it should have been—like it held answers neither of them was ready to hear.