The doorman stared at me when I dragged myself through the lobby. He always watched people—it was literally his job—but something felt off about it tonight. Like he was waiting for something. His eyes followed me across the marble floor, past the fancy orchids that someone kept replacing even though nobody ever looked at them.
"Evening, Ms. Vega," he called out.
I kept walking, hoping he'd leave it at that.
"Everything alright?" he added.
I paused, not turning fully. "Fine."
The word hung there, obviously untrue. The doorman nodded anyway, his eyes lingering a beat too long before he looked back down at whatever he was pretending to read.
The elevator finally arrived in the lobby, pulling me back to the present. As the doors opened, I heard someone call my name."Maya! Hold the elevator!"I glanced over my shoulder. Troy was jogging across the lobby, looking like he'd just come from a meeting—button-down shirt, slacks, none of his usual dramatic fashion choices. He slipped in just before the doors closed."Jesus Christ." He looked me up and down. "You look like shit."I didn't respond, just hit the button for my floor. The elevator lurched upward.Troy studied my face, his eyebrows drawing together. "That bad, huh?""Yeah." I leaned against the wall, suddenly too tired to stand up straight.
The restaurant Alex picked was one of those places with a name that's just a single word—Lume. Dark wood, soft lighting, waiters who appeared and disappeared like ghosts. Not the kind of place I would have chosen, but I was too tired to care.I'd put on a simple black dress, nothing special. Alex showed up in a suit without a tie, looking like he'd come straight from the office. His eyes did that thing when he saw me—widened just a bit, then warmed. It was nice to be looked at that way. Like I was worth seeing."You look beautiful," he said."Thanks." I tugged at the hem of my dress. "You clean up okay yourself."We didn't talk much in the car. I stared out the window, watching the city blur past. My head was still pounding, but I'd downed two Advil before we
Maya's POV I stared at the screen, my fingers digging into the worn fabric of the couch. The leather was cool against my skin, a stark contrast to the terrible heat rising in my chest. Three years of marriage, and this is what it had come to. There he was, my husband Daniel, his arm wrapped around Fiona's waist like she was his prized possession. The camera loved them, capturing every detail of their picture-perfect smiles. The studio lights gleamed off their teeth, their eyes, the jewelry adorning Fiona's neck. That was mine, she was flaunting my design as hers. I could still remember the day Daniel and I met. It was an arranged marriage, set up by our parents to unite our families. I had been so naive then, thinking love would naturally follow. How wrong I'd been. "I'm the luckiest man alive," Daniel gushed, his eyes never leaving Fiona. "To have this beautiful woman by my side." My stomach churned, a nauseating mix of anger and despair. The necklace glittering around
Maya's POV "Maya, what did you do?" Daniel's voice cut through the room, sharp and accusatory."Daniel, please, let me explain—" The words tumbled from my mouth, desperate and clumsy.But Daniel's eyes were fixed on Fiona, his hands roaming over her arms, her back, checking for injuries. "Are you hurt? Did she harm you?"Fiona pressed herself against him a little too much, her breasts heaving and bouncing with exaggerated sobs. The torn dress gaped open, leaving view of a soft tantalizing mound of flesh. I watched as Daniel's gaze flickered downward for a moment before he pulled her closer, enveloping her in his arms."It's okay, you're safe now," he murmured into her hair, his tone sickeningly gentle.I stood there, frozen, as Daniel comforted Fiona. The familiar ache of betrayal settled in my chest, heavy and cold.Finally, Daniel turned to me, his eyes hard. "Well? Are you going to explain yourself?"I swallowed hard. "I didn't do anything. Fiona, tell him—""Oh, Daniel," Fiona int
Maya's POV The silence that followed my outburst was deafening. I could almost hear the gears turning in their heads, processing what I'd just said. Then, all at once, the room exploded."Have you lost your mind?" My mother's shrill voice cut through the air like a knife. Her face, usually carefully composed, was contorted with rage. "After everything we've done for you?" My father's response was quieter, but no less cutting. "Ungrateful," he spat, his eyes cold and hard. "We gave you everything. A home, a family, a future. And this is how you repay us?" Their words hit me physically, each one chipping away at the resolve I'd built up. I opened my mouth to respond, but my mother wasn't finished. "You know what? Maybe we made a mistake bringing you back," she hissed. "Our real daughter wouldn't be this stupid, this selfish." I flinched, her words cutting deeper than I wanted to admit. Real daughter. As if I was some cheap imitation, a knockoff they'd accidentally brought home. "If
Maya's POV The room buzzed with murmurs as Fiona stumbled through her explanation. From the corner of my eye, I saw my parents exchanging worried glances. My mother's perfectly manicured nails dug into my father's arm as she whispered urgently in his ear. A moment later, they were at my side. "Maya," my father hissed, his breath hot against my ear. "Get up there and help her. Now." I shook my head, a small act of defiance that sent a thrill through me. "No. This is her moment, isn't it? Let her handle it." My mother's eyes narrowed dangerously. "Don't be stupid, girl. Do you want your precious adoptive mother to suffer?"My blood ran cold. "What are you talking about?""It would be such a shame if we couldn't afford her medical bills anymore," my father said, his voice dripping with false concern. "After all, quality care is so expensive these days."The threat hung in the air between us, as tangible as the pearls around my mother's neck. I swallowed hard, memories of my adoptive m
Maya's POV "Yes, my wife. Is there a problem with that, Mr. Thorne?" Alex's smile turned casual, almost playful, but his eyes remained sharp. "No problem at all. I just... might have thought differently." Daniel's jaw clenched, and I could feel the anger radiating off him. "If you'll excuse us," he said, his voice tight. "We're needed inside." As he began to steer me away, Alex spoke up again. "Before you go, I must say, Mr. Russo, you're a lucky man." His voice was warm, but his eyes never left mine. "Your wife is not only beautiful but incredibly knowledgeable. A rare combination." Daniel's laugh was just a touch too loud, too forced. "Oh, I know how fortunate I am," he said, pulling me closer. "Maya is... one of a kind." I could feel Daniel's fingers digging into my side, a silent warning. Play along, they seemed to say. "We're very much in love," I heard myself say, the words tasting like ash in my mouth. "Aren't we, darling?" Daniel's smile was all teeth. "Absolutely besot
The darkness pressed in around me, broken only by slivers of moonlight sneaking through the curtains. I sat on the plush carpet of my prison, my back against the cold, unyielding door as I curled in on myself, my hands bracing my knees to my chest. The digital clock on the nightstand blinked neon against the darkness, 7:42 PM. Daniel's mocking laughter still echoed in my ears. "You should thank Fiona, you know," he'd sneered earlier. "If it weren't for her, you'd be in a much worse situation." I'd begged the damn bastard, I'd pleaded. Hell, I'd even tried reasoning with him. Fat lot of good that did me. "Daniel, please," I'd said, my voice embarrassingly small. "You can't keep me locked up forever." He'd just smirked, those eyes I once thought were kind now cold as ice. "Watch me." The click of the lock had been final, absolute. I'd pounded on the door desperately until my fists ached, screaming myself hoarse. "You bastard! Let me out!" Silence was my only answer. Now, ho
The restaurant Alex picked was one of those places with a name that's just a single word—Lume. Dark wood, soft lighting, waiters who appeared and disappeared like ghosts. Not the kind of place I would have chosen, but I was too tired to care.I'd put on a simple black dress, nothing special. Alex showed up in a suit without a tie, looking like he'd come straight from the office. His eyes did that thing when he saw me—widened just a bit, then warmed. It was nice to be looked at that way. Like I was worth seeing."You look beautiful," he said."Thanks." I tugged at the hem of my dress. "You clean up okay yourself."We didn't talk much in the car. I stared out the window, watching the city blur past. My head was still pounding, but I'd downed two Advil before we
The elevator finally arrived in the lobby, pulling me back to the present. As the doors opened, I heard someone call my name."Maya! Hold the elevator!"I glanced over my shoulder. Troy was jogging across the lobby, looking like he'd just come from a meeting—button-down shirt, slacks, none of his usual dramatic fashion choices. He slipped in just before the doors closed."Jesus Christ." He looked me up and down. "You look like shit."I didn't respond, just hit the button for my floor. The elevator lurched upward.Troy studied my face, his eyebrows drawing together. "That bad, huh?""Yeah." I leaned against the wall, suddenly too tired to stand up straight.
MayaThe doorman stared at me when I dragged myself through the lobby. He always watched people—it was literally his job—but something felt off about it tonight. Like he was waiting for something. His eyes followed me across the marble floor, past the fancy orchids that someone kept replacing even though nobody ever looked at them."Evening, Ms. Vega," he called out.I kept walking, hoping he'd leave it at that."Everything alright?" he added.I paused, not turning fully. "Fine."The word hung there, obviously untrue. The doorman nodded anyway, his eyes lingering a beat too long before he looked back down at whatever he was pretending to read.
"Victor," my voice hardened. "What son?"He took his time responding, clearly savoring the rare moment of having information I needed. He reached for a wooden box on the mantle, opened it, and removed a faded photograph."Thirty-four years ago," he said, placing the photo in my hands. "When Lupe found out she was pregnant, they threatened to destroy her career completely if she didn't give up the baby. Said an unwed mother would tarnish the company image."“Who’s they?”“Her family,” Victor said. A smile played on his lips, as he noted my surprised expression. “Did you think Lupe was without a strong background?”“Wha—well…” I stared at the photo—a newborn infant, tiny face red and wrinkled, barely visible beneath a hospital blanket. A nurse held him, but Lupe was nowhere in the frame."She never even got to hold him," Victor continued. "They had papers ready before she went into labor. I was there—her only friend by then. The only one she trusted to witness."My mind raced, calculat
The door swung open before my knuckles could connect with the wood a fourth time. Light spilled out, blinding after the pre-dawn darkness, casting the figure in the doorway into silhouette."Dio mio." The voice was rougher than I remembered, aged by whiskey and solitude. "Giuseppe Russo. The devil himself."My eyes adjusted slowly. Victor Antonelli stood before me, barrel-chested and silver-haired, the sharp intelligence in his eyes unchanged despite the years. His gaze dropped to my wheelchair, genuine shock flickering across his weathered face before settling into sardonic amusement."Death is finally catching up to you, Russo?" His accent remained thick despite decades in America, vowels stretching like taffy. "Really, I thought I'd be first in the ground.""Disappointment all around then," I replied, the acid in my tone masking the strange relief I felt seeing him alive.Victor's hand moved to his chest in mock offense. "Is that any way to greet old friend? Fifteen years of silenc
GiuseppeEarlier same morning.The pain was my constant companion now. It woke with me, dressed with me, ate with me. This morning, it flared sharp and deliberately wicked as Vincent helped me from bed to wheelchair. It was Four-fifteen in the goddamn morning, and already my body was betraying me."Careful, sir," Vincent murmured, his hands steady under my arms.I grunted, teeth clenched against the lightning shooting up my spine. Couldn't afford to show weakness. Not today."The car is ready," he said. "Are you certain about the time? We could wait until—""No, I'm not certain about the time, Vincent." I said almost too casually. "But It has to be now, If I want to get that old goat"The house was silent around us, the staff still asleep. Just as I'd arranged, to avoid witnesses and questions. The less anyone knew, the better.My medication sat untouched on the nightstand—the little white pills that dulled both the pain and my mind. But I needed my mind very sharp today, both for wha
My father placed both hands flat on the table, leaning forward. His shoulder barely moved, but Crawford straightened in response—a subtle signal I couldn’t interpret passed between them. And that in itself was scary."While my daughter's personal life is her own business," he began.The word "daughter" hit like a fucking slap. My head jerked up before I could control the reaction, and I saw Richardson note it with narrowed eyes. I'd given them exactly what they wanted—confirmation that I could be rattled."I think we should acknowledge the... unique challenges she's facing," my father continued, letting the pause expand until everyone leaned forward slightly, scenting blood in the water."What challenges would those be, Robert?" Grandfather asked. The temperature in the room seemed to drop another five degrees at his tone."Her emotional stability since leaving the structure of her marriage. Let’s consider that," my father replied, his concern so perfectly performed it could win award
I took my seat at the head of the table, feeling the weight of every eye in the room. The leather chair creaked beneath me, and I winced involuntarily as I settled—still sore from last night. Richardson was directly across from me, caught the grimace. His gaze lingered a moment too long before shifting to the papers in front of him. Great start.Thirteen board members. Thirteen people who would decide my fate today. I scanned their faces, cataloging allies and enemies.My father sat at the far end, perfectly poised. Beside him, Whitcomb checked his watch for the third time in five minutes. Crawford had chosen a seat near the center, strategic neutral territory that everyone knew was anything but neutral. Chen and Martinez—usually reliable supporters—exchanged nervous glances, avoiding my eyes.Yamamoto, Grandfather's old friend, nodded slightly when our eyes met. A small comfort. Beside him, Wilson—ancient and immovable as the company itself—arranged her papers with military precision
I was ten minutes early and somehow still late.The Russo Designs headquarters loomed over me, all glass and steel and judgment. I'd thrown on the gray Armani blazer Grandfather insisted on, even though I couldn't remember why it mattered, but I wore it either way. My head throbbed, lack of sleep and too much Alex making it hard to focus on anything but putting one foot in front of the other.The receptionist's eyes widened when I walked in. Her gaze lingered on me, then suddenly looked very interested in her computer screen."Good morning, Ms. Vega," she said, voice carefully neutral. "Mr. Russo is waiting for you at the private elevator."Great. Just what I needed. A lecture before the firing squad.Grandfather sat in his wheelchair, positioned precisely in the center of the elevator alcove. Even in declining health, he maintained perfect posture, his suit immaculate, his eyes sharp as they cataloged every detail of my appearance. I could feel his disapproval very tangible.."You're