CHAPTER 4: The Cost of Pride

In a sleek, dark office high above the city, Kieran sat in his chair, watching Neera's every move through the surveillance system he had installed. His eyes were cold, calculating, as he watched her stared at the contract sent earlier.

He had expected for her to burn the first one. She was stubborn, proud. It made her predictable. But what he hadn't expected was her brother. The timing had been impeccable.

Kieran smiled darkly to himself. Pride has a way of costing people more than they're willing to pay.

His fingers tapped lightly on the armrest of his chair as he watched Neera's resolve begin to crack. This was just the beginning. He had made her an offer twice. She refused the first one. Now, it was time to remind her of what happened to people who thought they could defy him.

She would come to him. Or her brother would pay the price.

And when she did come, he'd be ready.

—

The silence had weight. Not just absence of noise, but something dense, suffocating. Neera sat behind her desk, her hands folded so tightly the knuckles ached. For the tenth time that day, she refreshed her inbox.

Nothing.

No one would take Nathan’s case. Not a single damn soul.

She’d tried everyone—lawyers who owed her favors, old professors who once praised her courtroom brilliance, even a few enemies she thought might relish the challenge. All of them had an excuse. All of them were scared.

“Sorry, Neera,” one had whispered over the phone, her voice trembling. “I have kids.”

Even her firm had begun to distance itself. Her office phone had stopped ringing. Her caseload had been reassigned. When she passed by the break room that morning, the chatter died. Eyes didn’t meet hers. Everyone was pretending not to know the truth.

She was alone.

Kieran Renzaro hadn’t even needed to show up. He was dismantling her life from a distance.

She went to court that afternoon to file a bail petition for Nathan. The judge barely glanced at the paperwork before stamping it.

“Denied.”

No reason. No discussion.

Just a stamp. Like Nathan was already guilty.

That night, Neera got home to a cold apartment. She hadn’t eaten since the previous day. But when she opened the fridge, nothing looked worth the effort. She leaned on the counter and stared at the floor.

It was crumbling. Everything. And she couldn’t stop it.

Until the envelope came.

She found it the next morning in her table. Black. No markings.

She picked it up slowly, heart in her throat. There was no note, no stamp, no name. But she already knew who it was from.

She opened it anyway.

Same contract.

Same offer.

One year. Personal legal advisor. Triple her rate. Legal immunity.

This time, something new had been scrawled at the bottom in black ink:

My offer still stands. You know the cost of pride.

Her hands trembled. But her jaw set.

“Bastard,” she whispered.

—

Kieran sat in his penthouse, watching the city bleed gold through the floor-to-ceiling windows. He swirled a glass of red wine slowly, eyes fixed on the tablet in his hand.

A live feed.

Neera, sitting on the edge of her table, reading the contract.

He admired her restraint. Most people would’ve signed the moment their brother was in cuffs. But not her. She was fire in a silk sheath.

“She’s still holding,” Leo, his right hand, murmured from the side.

Dominic didn’t look away from the screen. “Not for long.”

“You sure about her?”

“More than I’ve ever been sure of anything.”

Leo chuckled darkly. “You always did like a fighter.”

Kieran finally glanced at him. “She’s not just a fighter. She’s the war.”

He looked back at the screen just as she turned toward her window, staring out. Her mouth was tight, her eyes burning. And he knew.

She had seen the car.

—

Neera stood by her window, her arms folded. Across the street, the black car sat still. Same one. Always the same.

No plate. No movement.

Just the waiting.

She stared at it. Daring it to blink first.

But of course, it didn’t.

She didn’t sleep that night. She sat on the floor, legs drawn to her chest, the contract lying on the table.

It was a cage disguised as a lifeline.

But Nathan was behind bars. And no one else was coming.

She reached for her phone. Her thumb hovered over Keiran’s contact.

She’d burned the first contract.

She hadn’t burned this one.

And she didn’t know if that made her strong—or already his.