LOGIN~DIMITRI~Happiness has a sound.It’s soft. Almost imperceptible. Like breathing beside you in the dark.And because it’s so quiet, you don’t notice when it starts to drown out your instincts.Scarlett hums under her breath as she moves around my kitchen, barefoot, hair loose down her back. She’s wearing one of my shirts again, too big, sleeves rolled up, collar slipping off one shoulder. The sight of her like this does something dangerous to me.It makes me imagine permanence.I watch her from the doorway, coffee cooling in my hand, and for a brief, treacherous moment, I allow myself to think: This could be my life.Not power.Not dominance.Not survival.Just this.She turns and catches me staring. “What?”“Nothing,” I reply, though it’s a lie. “You’re just… here.”She smiles softly. “I like being here.”The words land deeper than she knows.So I do what I’ve always done when something matters too much, I compartmentalize. I tuck the fear away and focus on what I can control.I walk
~SCARLETT~I don’t remember the last time I woke up without fear sitting on my chest.But this morning, I did.Sunlight filters through thin curtains, warm and gentle, brushing across my face like it knows me. For a moment, I forget everything else. The past I can’t remember. The future I’m pretending not to worry about.There is only now.There is only Dimitri.He’s still asleep beside me, one arm heavy around my waist like a promise he doesn’t know he’s making. His breathing is steady, peaceful in a way that feels rare for him. I watch him quietly, memorizing the way his brow smooths when he isn’t carrying the weight of the world.I let myself believe this could last.I slip out of bed carefully and pad into the kitchen, deciding to make breakfast, an act that feels dangerously domestic. I burn the toast, spill coffee on the counter, and laugh at myself like this is a normal life.When Dimitri joins me, hair messy, shirt half-buttoned, he pauses in the doorway like he’s stepped into
~DIMITRI~I have spent my entire life mastering control.Control over my strength.Control over my temper.Control over the part of me that destroys what it touches.Choosing Scarlett means surrendering a piece of that control.And I do it anyway.I don’t hide her anymore.Not from the press.Not from the board.Not from Alexander.When I walk into my company with her hand in mine, the room stills. Conversations die mid-sentence. Phones pause halfway to ears. I feel their shock ripple outward like a disturbed surface.Good.Let them see.Scarlett moves beside me like she belongs there, not clinging, not hesitant. Her chin is lifted, eyes curious rather than intimidated. I admire her courage more than I should.My assistant stares openly. “Sir…?”“Clear my schedule,” I say. “All of it.”She nods, scrambling.I lead Scarlett into my private office and close the door behind us, sealing us into quiet.“You didn’t warn me,” she says softly.“I didn’t want to give you time to second-guess,”
~SCARLETT~I start getting headaches.Not the normal kind. Not the dull ache that comes from exhaustion or dehydration. These are sharp, sudden, like something inside my skull is knocking, hard, demanding to be let out.They come when I’m least prepared.A voice calling my name that doesn’t belong to anyone near me.The smell of rain when the sky is clear.The sudden, overwhelming urge to run.I tell myself it’s stress.Two men orbiting my life.A job that reminds me every day that I don’t quite fit.A past I can’t remember but everyone else seems to tread around carefully.Anyone would crack under that weight.Dimitri notices before I do.“You’re pale,” he says quietly when he picks me up after work.“I’m fine,” I lie automatically.He doesn’t accept it. He never does.His hand comes up, warm against my cheek, thumb brushing just beneath my eye. The touch grounds me and unravels me at the same time.“You don’t have to pretend with me,” he says.The headache spikes, sharp and vicious.
~ALEXANDER~I don’t rage.That’s what surprises everyone.They expect anger. Explosions. Demands. The kind of fury men like me are known for when something precious slips through our fingers.But rage is careless.And I cannot afford to be careless with Scarlett.I watch her choose him in ways she doesn’t even realize she’s choosing, her body angling toward Dimitri, her voice softening when she says his name, the way her laughter seems to settle more easily around him. It hurts in a way I don’t have language for, but pain has never been enough to make me stop loving her.If anything, it sharpens the love.I tell myself I deserve this.That this is the cost of the things I did before she lost her memory. That if I’m patient enough, if I become better than the man she remembers only in pieces, she’ll come back to me on her own.Not because I force her.But because she chooses me.That distinction matters.I don’t approach her recklessly anymore. I don’t corner her or demand explanations
~DIMITRI~I have survived wars.Not the kind fought with guns or claws or blood in the open, those are simple. I mean the ones fought quietly, in boardrooms and corridors of power, in rooms where the wrong word costs lives just as easily as the wrong blade.I have survived betrayal.Loss.Grief so heavy it hollowed me out from the inside and left something sharp behind.None of it compares to this.Wanting Scarlett is a constant exercise in restraint. Not because I don’t desire her, goddess help me, I do but because every instinct I have tells me that wanting her is dangerous. Not to me.To her.I learned a long time ago that love and destruction are not opposites. They walk hand in hand, smiling at each other like old friends. Every time I let myself care too deeply, something breaks. Every time I reach too far, something precious slips through my fingers and shatters on the ground.I told myself Scarlett would be different.Then I told myself she wouldn’t.And now I don’t know which







