LOGINThe conference room on the forty-second floor of the new Blackwood Hotel overlooked the frozen Chicago skyline. The space was all glass and dark wood, sleek and imposing—just like the man at the head of the table.Roman Blackwood leaned back in his chair, his hands loosely clasped, a faint, genuine smile on his face for the first time in days. “I can’t tell you how grateful I am that Cross Corp chose to partner with us on this,” he said, voice smooth and confident. “Giving Blackwood Hotels this opportunity—it means more than I can say.”Damien Cross, the younger brother, nodded with an approving smile. “You earned it, Roman. The numbers spoke for themselves. And frankly, we like working with people who don’t waste our time.”Sebastian, older and sharper-edged, leaned forward. “We’ve watched your moves. They’re impressive. Aggressive when it needs to be, smart when it counts.We’re looking forward to seeing what you do with this property.”Roman inclined his head. “I know we’ll be
Salima stepped into her bedroom, the door clicking shut behind her with a soft thud.The house was silent, the kind of heavy quiet that pressed in after a long, draining night.She slipped off her earrings, setting them on the dresser, then reached for the zipper of her emerald blouse.A knock echoed through the empty hallway—three sharp knocks on the front door downstairs.She froze, hand still on the zipper. It was late. Too late for visitors.Salima pulled a scarf tight around her shoulders and walked downstairs, bare feet silent on the marble. At the door, she paused, listening.“Who is it?” she called, voice steady but edged.“It’s me,” Victor answered, low and familiar through the wood. “Victor.”She hesitated for a long second, then unlocked the door and pulled it open just enough to see him standing on the porch, coat collar turned up against the December chill.“What do you want, Victor?” she asked, her tone cool, arms folded.He looked tired, the lines around his eyes deeper
Two Months laterThe nursery was quiet except for the soft creak of the rocking chair Tessa refused to sit in.The street lamps spilt through the curtains, creating stripes across the half-finished crib.A mobile with tiny stars and moons Roman had hung himself—moved gently in the air.Tessa stood rigid, one hand resting on the smooth wooden rail, the other cradling the swell of her belly.She was five months pregnant now and she hadn’t been able to sleep for days, not really. Every time she closed her eyes she saw Roman’s blood on the pavement, or heard Salima’s voice:“You may be carrying the heir—but now you’re players in the game.”She leaned down, her fingers brushing the place where her baby moved.“I won’t let them touch you,” she whispered, the promise fierce and fragile at once. “Not Eleanor. Not anyone.”Her phone vibrated on the table, the screen lighting the room blue.It was Roman.She picked up immediately.“Hey,” she said, her voice soft, trying to keep the exhaustion
Salima swallowed as the knock came again.She ended the call and sent a single text to Roman.“He called. I think he’s outside.”She set the phone down on the kitchen island and reached for the knife rack. Her fingers wrapped around the handle with practised calm. No shaking. No hesitation.She moved toward the door, every step measured, the blade steady in her palm.“Who is it?” she called.But no one answered.Her jaw tightened. She unlocked the door and swung it open in one sharp motion.“Victor?” She gasped.Victor stood there, his grey hair falling across his face, dressed too neatly for the hour. His smile came easy—too easy.Salima took a step forward. “What…what are you—”“Hi, Salima,” Victor said lightly. “You look… worried.”Her grip on the knife didn’t loosen, but she lowered it just enough to keep it out of sight.“Sorry,” she said coolly. “I thought you were someone else.”His eyes flicked down—then back up. He noticed the knife.Victor’s brows lifted just slightly. “I se
Davin stared at the man in front of him, his gaze sweeping over his brown-skinned torso once again.“So… what’s the explanation for that?” Davin asked. “You’re as fresh as the day, yet I have a video of a knife going through you.”Arjun looked at him, his spine straightening.“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he murmured.Davin sighed. “Look, Arjun… I’m not here for you. But I am looking for someone else—and I know you’re working with them.”“Once again,” Arjun said, unyielding, “I have no idea what you’re saying. I have nothing to hide.”“Okay,” Davin said evenly. “Then you won’t mind me taking you in for questioning.”Arjun exhaled—and before Davin could blink, he bolted.“Hey—!” Davin lunged forward, instinct kicking in as Arjun shoved past him and tore down the narrow hallway.“Stop!” Davin barked, already chasing him.Arjun didn’t look back.He took the stairs two at a time, bare feet slapping hard against concrete, the sound echoing like gunshots in the stairwell.Davi
Davin walked into Roman’s office with a force that said he had done this too many times.Roman looked up the moment the footsteps stopped.“You’re here,” he said calmly.“And you shouldn’t be here,” Davin replied bluntly. “How did Salima even let you out of the house?”Roman leaned back slightly, his jaw tight. “Well, my mother is scared as hell, and frankly, I’m getting tired too. Just tell me you have something.”Davin exhaled through his nose. “So. Klara, huh?”“Yeah,” Roman said immediately. “She looked horrified the other day and I just—I know she can be a lot, but I could tell she was telling the truth.”“Well, she definitely was,” Davin said. “I checked the surveillance at the park. And I got a face.”Roman’s head snapped up. “A face?”“Yeah.” Davin's lips turned into a thin smile as he pulled his laptop from his briefcase and placed it on the desk between them. He sat across from Roman and turned the screen toward him.Roman pressed his lips together, teeth grinding as the vid







