LOGIN“Drake… if you hear this, I’m sorry.”My fingers hovered over the keyboard, trembling, heart hammering like it would explode through my chest. The room was dim, lit only by the glow of three monitors, each displaying a different portal into my digital life...emails, cloud storage, company files, personal messages, everything that tied me to a world I could no longer belong to.I closed my eyes for a fraction of a second, letting the words escape my lips like a whispered prayer. “I can’t… I can’t do this anymore.”The cursor blinked at me, accusing, expectant. Every folder, every file I had spent years cultivating, every digital footprint of my existence… it was all about to vanish. Permanently.I gritted my teeth, forcing my trembling hands to type the commands I had rehearsed in my mind for days. “Erase. Delete. Purge. Obliterate.”The idea should have terrified me. It did. But what terrified me more was staying. Staying in a world where every glance, every message, every shared secr
The penthouse felt smaller. Claustrophobic. Not because of the size...it was still sprawling, glass walls, high ceilings, polished floors...but because of her. Emma Brookes.She had this way of existing in a space and making it her own, even when she wasn’t supposed to. She was chaos wrapped in silk, a predator disguised as elegance. And I had no choice but to watch her claim territory.She wandered toward the living room, every step deliberate, her heels clicking against the marble like a countdown to madness. I followed her with my gaze, each motion a provocation, every curve calculated to irritate me. I knew that. Hell, I knew her. But still… it worked. Every time I looked at her, my brain short-circuited.She paused near the grand piano, fingers trailing across the surface like she owned it.“Beautiful place,” she murmured, eyes flicking toward the empty chair where Sabrina used to sit.I clenched my jaw.“Emma. Sit. Or leave. Your choice.”She laughed softly, a sound that grated
EMMA RETURNS TO NYC (Drake POV)The penthouse was too quiet.The kind of quiet that made my skin crawl, the kind that pressed down on your chest and refused to let you breathe. I should have known better than to crave silence. After everything, after losing Sabrina… silence was a warning.My phone vibrated. I didn’t answer it. I knew who it was before even looking at the screen. Emma Brookes.The woman who had always been chaos wrapped in perfection. The woman who had, once upon a time, tried to steal me in pieces I didn’t even know I had. She had the audacity, the gall, the complete and utter lack of moral decency to think she could just walk back into my life.And apparently, she wasn’t just walking back. She was moving in.I crushed my phone in my hand—not literally, but the tension made it feel like I could. I paced the length of the penthouse, glass walls reflecting a man teetering between rage and exhaustion.Emma didn’t just return to New York. She returned to stake her claim,
I watched her leave. Every step she took toward the elevator, every soft click of her heels against the polished floor, was like a blade cutting through me. Sabrina Mendoza, the only woman who had ever made me forget the rules, forget control, forget everything, was walking out of my life. And there was nothing I could do to stop it. Her bag swung gently at her side. The envelope she had left on my desk… my eyes couldn’t tear away from it. My hands itched to pick it up, to throw it across the room, to call her back and beg her to stay...but I didn’t. I couldn’t. Because she had made her choice. Because I had failed to protect her—from the chaos of this office, from the heat between us, from… me. The moment the elevator doors slid closed, silence swallowed the room. I sank into my chair, fingers trembling as I ran them through my hair. The city outside gleamed with light, indifferent to my suffering, indifferent to the fact that the woman I loved was slipping out of my life like
The elevator ride to the executive floor felt interminable. Each ding of the passing floors struck like a metronome counting down the seconds to my inevitable confrontation, each chime hammering at my heart like a warning. I gripped my bag tighter, as though it held not only my belongings but the last thread of my sanity. My fingers trembled—not only from fear, though that was part of it—but from anger, from heartbreak, from betrayal that had no words sharp enough to describe it.I closed my eyes, taking a shaky breath, trying to summon some ounce of courage. I had replayed this moment in my head countless times. The words were already rehearsed. The envelope with my resignation letter sat heavy at the bottom of my bag, almost screaming at me to take it out and finally put an end to the unbearable tension that had been poisoning every day I spent here.When the elevator doors finally slid open, the office hallway stretched out, empty and eerily quiet. The fluorescent lights reflected
The cab ride had barely started when the unfamiliar number flashed on my phone again.I hesitated. My fingers hovered over the screen, trembling.Do I answer it?I didn’t recognize the number. I didn’t know who could possibly—no, who would—reach out about Drake Peterson.And yet… something in me couldn’t ignore it.I pressed Answer.“Hello?” My voice was barely above a whisper, raw from the tears I had fought to hold back.A deep, controlled voice answered. Smooth. Calculated. Dangerous.“Ms. Mendoza, I hope you’re listening carefully. Drake Peterson is… compromised.”My stomach plummeted.“Who is this?” I demanded, trying to keep my voice steady.“You’ll find out soon enough. But know this—if you reach him, or if he reaches you, you’ll regret it. Every move you make will be watched.”The line went dead.I stared at the phone, my heart hammering in my chest.A cold shiver ran down my spine.Compromised?Drake. My Drake.I gripped the seat, my knuckles white. The tears I had tried to c







