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The San Francisco fog, usually soft and familiar, felt heavy on Eva Langston's shoulders. It clung to the Golden Gate Bridge, covered the tops of tall buildings, and now, it felt like it was sinking into her bones. Two years. That’s how long it had been since she left this city, chasing truth and justice with a pen name—E.L. Verity. Back then, it felt powerful. Now, it felt like an old costume she'd outgrown.
She stared out of the taxi window, watching familiar streets and recognizing familiar faces. Every turn brought back memories she wasn’t ready for. The little café where she’d first interviewed a whistle-blower. The park bench where she’d spent hours reviewing documents. The street where she’d last seen Lucian Thorne; his face cold, angry, unforgiving.
“Almost there, miss,” the driver mumbled, snapping her back to the moment.
Her stomach twisted. Home. The word felt wrong in her mouth. Home meant facing her father, Henry Langston, and everything she’d tried to run from. She’d pictured returning as a successful journalist, someone who had made it. Instead, she was coming back broke, disgraced, holding a cardboard box of her things.
The taxi stopped. The house in front of her used to be warm and full of life. Now, it looked tired. The paint was chipped, the garden wild and untended. It didn’t feel like the place she grew up in. It felt like a house barely hanging on.
Her father opened the door. His loud, joyful voice was gone. Instead, he smiled weakly. His strong shoulders looked smaller somehow, his face older, worn down by stress.
“Eva, my girl,” he said, pulling her into a tight hug. But it didn’t feel like a welcome. It felt like he was holding on for dear life.
“Dad, what’s going on?” she asked as she stepped inside. The house felt too quiet. No smell of her mom’s cooking. No background noise from the TV. It felt like a ghost of what it used to be.
He sighed and ran a hand through his thinning hair. “Come in. Sit down. We need to talk.”
What followed felt like slow torture. Her father explained how everything had fallen apart. He’d made risky business decisions, hoping to recover from a major client pulling out. He took loans, mortgaged everything and now Langston Innovations was drowning in debt. Bankruptcy was right around the corner.
Eva sat there, stunned. The scandal she’d tried to expose the one that got her fired and blacklisted suddenly felt like a sick joke. While she was trying to fight for what was right, her own family was collapsing, and she had no idea.
“I… I don’t get it, Dad,” she whispered. “How did it get this bad? Why didn’t you tell me?”
He looked down, ashamed. “Pride. And stupidity. I really thought I could fix it. I tried, Eva. I went to banks, investors... No one wants to help.”
Silence filled the room. In the distance, a siren wailed. Eva felt completely helpless. She had nothing. No job, no savings, no power to fix any of this.
Then her father cleared his throat nervously. “There’s… one last chance. A long shot. But maybe…”
She looked at him, her gut tightening.
“I reached out to Lucian Thorne.”
The name hit her like a punch. Lucian Thorne. Her ex. The cold, ruthless billionaire who once held her heart and then crushed it when he thought she betrayed him. The man she promised never to see again.
“Lucian? Are you serious?” Her voice was sharp. “Dad, you know what happened between us.”
Henry winced. “He’s the only one who can help. And he’s willing to…but there’s a catch.”
Eva already knew. She could feel it coming.
“He wants you to marry him.”
The room spun. The fog outside seemed to close in. Marry Lucian? The man who hated her? Who didn’t believe in her? It felt like some kind of twisted nightmare.
“No,” she whispered. “No, Dad. I can’t. You can’t ask me to do that.”
“Eva, please,” he begged, his voice cracking. “He’s already prepared everything. If we say no… we lose the house, the company…everything. Your future, too.”
Future. The word felt meaningless now. What kind of future came with chains?
The next day felt unreal. Her meeting with Lucian was set in his office a glass and steel tower in the heart of the financial district. Eva dressed in her sharpest clothes. It wasn’t about impressing him. It was armor.
His office was huge and cold. The windows showed off the city below, as if he owned it. Lucian sat behind a massive desk in a dark suit, calm and unreadable. He didn’t even offer a handshake. Just a nod.
“Miss Langston,” he said. His deep voice was cool and distant. “Thanks for coming.”
“Let’s just get to it, Lucian,” Eva replied, trying to keep her voice steady. “What are your terms?”
He leaned back, calm and confident. “As your father explained, I’ll invest in Langston Innovations, clear the debt, and stabilize the company. In exchange, you become my wife.”
“Why?” she asked, her voice rising. “Why me? Is this some kind of revenge?”
Something flickered in his eyes maybe amusement but it vanished quickly. “Revenge is messy. I don’t have time for that. This benefits both of us.”
“Benefits?” she repeated, almost laughing. “You’re forcing me to marry you. How is that a benefit for me?”
“You get to save your family’s legacy. You’ll have access to resources most people can only dream of. And I need a wife. A stable public image. You’re convenient. And… compliant.”
The word cut deep. Compliant. As if she were a tool. A thing.
“And what about the past?” she asked. “You still think I betrayed you. You think I leaked information. Is this your way of punishing me?”
His jaw clenched. “The past doesn’t matter. What matters is now. The deal is simple say yes, and your family is saved. Say no, and they lose everything. It’s your choice.”
He sounded like a stranger. The warmth, the passion from their past gone. He looked at her like a business deal, not a person.
Eva turned to the window. The city looked both close and far away. She saw her father’s tired face in her mind. The broken home. She had nothing to fight back with. No way out.
Her throat tightened. “Fine,” she said softly. “I’ll marry you. But don’t expect me to be compliant. And don’t think I’ve forgotten how little you think of me.”
Lucian gave a small nod, as if her answer had always been yes. “Good. My lawyer will contact you. We’ll make the wedding private. Public announcement to follow.”
He turned back to his computer like she was already out of sight, out of mind. Eva stood slowly. Her legs felt heavy. Her heart even heavier.
She had just sold her freedom, her heart, her future… to the man who broke her. And outside, the fog thickened, curling around the city like a warning she could no longer ignore.
The boardroom lights glowed like interrogation lamps—sharp, cold, merciless. Isabelle Dubois stood at the head of the table, immaculate in her navy suit, the picture of calm authority. Her hair was pinned back, flawless. Her expression? Pure, calculated sympathy.The kind that wasn’t sympathy at all.And Lucian wasn’t there to defend himself.“We need to discuss the events of yesterday,” Isabelle began, hands folded neatly. “Thorne Capital suffered an unprecedented destabilization. The markets reacted violently. Our investors are demanding answers.”A board member shifted uncomfortably. “Where is Lucian? Has anyone spoken to him?”Isabelle sighed softly. “He’s… indisposed.”Her voice carried a perfect blend of regret and concern.Julian’s jaw tightened. “He’s working. You all know how he gets after a surge—”Isabelle cut him off gently but firmly. “Julian. This isn’t about work style. The data shows erratic decision-making. Emotional volatility. Vanishing for hours at a time.”Another
The lab smelled of burnt metal and ozone. Screens still flickered from the power surge that had nearly blown out the quantum interface. Shattered glass glittered on the floor like frost. Somewhere deep in the system, a low hum persisted—a wounded machine trying to breathe.Eva stood in the middle of it, chest tight, heart hammering. She’d seen market crashes before, but nothing like this. Thorne Capital’s entire trade system had collapsed in seconds, erased by a surge that hadn’t come from any external source.It came from them.And Lucian knew it too.“You feel that?” Eva whispered. Her voice trembled as she stared at the residual light still pulsing faintly across the holographic screen. “It wasn’t the algorithm, Lucian. It was us.”Lucian didn’t answer at first. He stood motionless, hands pressed against the lab table, eyes on the shattered monitor. His reflection looked like someone she barely recognized—pale, shaken, stripped of the usual composure that made him so untouchable.“
Eva didn’t wait a second.The moment Isabelle’s cryptic words echoed in her head—“Let’s see how far the instability can go before it breaks you”—she ran.By the time she burst into Lucian’s office, her breath was ragged, and her hands were still shaking from adrenaline.“She was in the lab again,” she said, slamming the door behind her. “She bypassed the system lockdown. She touched the core projection—and she talked about containment, Lucian.”Lucian looked up from a table filled with holographic data streams. His eyes were bloodshot, his shirt sleeves rolled to his elbows, the tension in his posture electric. “Containment?” he repeated slowly.Eva nodded. “She’s not just studying us anymore. She’s testing limits. Ours.”Lucian’s jaw clenched, but his gaze drifted back to the swirling data. “She was probably just curious.”Eva stared at him. “You can’t be serious.”“She’s a strategist, Eva,” he said, his tone clipped. “You said it yourself—she studies patterns. She might’ve been anal
From the outside, Isabelle Dubois looked like perfection carved in human form.Every move, every smile, every headline—calculated. Polished. Untouchable.Lucian often said, “She’s the kind of woman the world trusts instantly,” and he wasn’t wrong. Isabelle carried herself with the poise of someone who never stumbled, never broke, never once showed a crack in the marble.And that was exactly why Eva didn’t trust her.“Do you ever sleep?” Eva asked one morning, stepping into the office.Isabelle was already there—immaculate in a navy suit, typing with quiet precision.“I find rest overrated,” Isabelle replied, not looking up. “There’s always another crisis waiting at dawn.”Lucian smirked from behind his desk. “You sound like me five years ago.”“I take that as a compliment,” Isabelle said, finally meeting his gaze.Her smile didn’t reach her eyes. It never did.Eva tried to convince herself it was paranoia.That her unease around Isabelle came from stress, not intuition.But every time
The cameras had barely cooled after Lucian and Eva’s quiet disappearance from the public scene when the world started asking questions.Where was Thorne Capital’s face?Why had Lucian Thorne—media darling, billionaire strategist—suddenly gone quiet?It was Eva who first noticed the shift—the gossip headlines softening, the rumors turning vague, as if someone, somewhere, was already managing the narrative.And that was before she walked in.“Mr. Thorne?”Lucian looked up from his desk. The voice was light, confident, with a kind of grace that sounded rehearsed yet effortless. The woman standing in the doorway wore a white suit that fit like armor, her dark hair tucked neatly behind her ears, and her smile—the kind that could start a movement or end a career—didn’t waver even once.“Isabelle Dubois,” she said, stepping forward. “But most people call me Izzy.”Lucian rose slowly, shaking her hand. “I already have an Izzy in my life,” he said with that dry half-smirk he was famous for.Sh
“Lucian, it’s happening again.”Eva’s voice cut through the dim light of the penthouse lab. The walls shimmered faintly, like glass bending in heat. Instruments buzzed, screens blinked nonsense data, and a faint hum rose from the floor.Lucian clenched his jaw, gripping the edge of the console. “I know. It’s stronger this time.”“It’s leaking.”He didn’t answer. He didn’t need to. The lights flickered again, and for one impossible second, every shadow in the room seemed to move in slow motion. Then—silence.Eva exhaled shakily. “Lucian, this isn’t just us anymore. Look.”She turned toward the window overlooking the city. The skyline below pulsed faintly, just once, like a heartbeat in the night.Lucian’s eyes narrowed. “You think it’s spreading?”“I don’t think. I feel it.” She touched her chest, then her temple. “Every time you push the energy, every time I try to stabilize it… it ripples.”He stared at her, torn between awe and dread. “And Ari?”Eva hesitated. “She’s changing, Lucia







