SASHA'S POV I can feel it.The secrecy and lies. It's everywhere now. First it was Elena and now I have Nathaniel who is not saying anything, but I know.He’s shutting me out.It’s the way he doesn’t look at me in meetings, the way he walks out before I’m done talking, the way his phone suddenly matters more than my voice. Especially when I am talking about the xomaony..That is all we ever talk about now and even then, he still ignores me.He still puts on the act in public — hand at the small of my back, smile when the cameras click — but underneath, I can feel him slipping.And it’s not just him.The investors are pulling back too.They’re still polite, still making their rounds, but the tone is changing. I can hear it in the questions they ask, the ones they didn’t bother with before. “What’s your view on the Ashen pullout?” “Where do you see Cross Industries in the next quarter?” “Do you feel your position is secure?”The last one makes me want to throw my coffee in their face
NATHANIEL POV I’m staring at my laptop like it’s breathing. The Ashen projection sits there in my inbox, timestamped 2:12 a.m., no sender name, no signature.But it’s not blank.There’s a code buried inside the file name, subtle, almost lazy in how it sits there like it belongs. Eight digits. I type them into my head without even trying. 09122014.Mallorca. The villa. The day we moved in.No one else could’ve known that. No one.I lean back in my chair and rub my eyes, but it’s still there when I open them. That number has been showing up in other places too. Tiny, buried in contract references, in account IDs, in shipment labels that should mean nothing. I told myself it was coincidence. Now it feels like a knife turning.I’m not imagining it.The number is there. Staring at me in black and white like it’s been waiting for me to notice.No one, absolutely no one would know that except her. Not my mother, not Sasha, not some analyst in a glass tower halfway across the world.3117 was
KAIA (ALINA) POVThe first thing I notice is the silence.It’s so quiet here it’s almost like the air is pressing on my ears.The kind of quiet that makes you hear things you don’t want to, your own pulse, the way your breath catches when you’re thinking too much, the creak of old wood settling.Not the kind that feels soft or comforting. Not the “peaceful countryside” kind. This is the heavy kind. The kind that makes the inside of your ears hum, like the air’s pressing down on you. Out here, the quiet doesn’t soothe, it waits.The cabin is small. One bedroom, a kitchen with mismatched cabinets, a couch that’s got this sag in the middle. No staff, no noise, no windows facing the road. Just wood walls, a stove in the corner, and mismatched furniture that smells faintly of smoke and rain. The place is bare.Exactly what I wanted, off-grid, no one to drop by, no signal except for the satellite line Theo hooked up.I sit at the small wooden table in the middle of the cabin, elbows on eith
ELENA POV“Sugar Mama of the Century.”That is what the damn headline says. That is what all the headlines say. Both print and outlineFront page. Full color. My face airbrushed to hell, but still unmistakably mine. Some stupid grinning intern with too much caffeine l, audacity and not enough respect has turned my decades of legacy into a punchline. And I can't breathe.I can't even see straight, much less thinking straight. The rage coursing through me, won't let me.I slam the newspaper against the mahogany desk, making the others flutter in the wind. The room is dead silent except for the soft ticking of the antique clock behind me, a gift from a senator who won’t return my calls anymore.“Get me Angela,” I snap, voice tight. The assistant flinches but nods, hurrying out and I don’t bother watching her leave.That is the first assistant I am getting this month. The others resigned, citing an unhealthy workplace as the reason. Idiots. There was a time when people would die to jus
ALINA/ KAIA POV I wake up before my alarm. No light. Just silence. That kind that feels too still, like something is about to break.It is a feeling I am very used to now.Living on the edge. Waiting for the next show to drop.I check my phone. Nothing new from Vivian, Theo, or Margot.Good.I slide off the bed and head straight for the kitchen. The espresso machine purrs to life, and I wait, eyes locked on the marble counter like it holds the answers. My hands are steady. Too steady. It usually means something’s wrong.Then my other phone vibrates.The black one. The one nobody is supposed to touch.I grab it.One notification."Unusual activity detected in dormant offshore account."I stare at it. I don’t breathe.That account was buried. Killed, actually. It was Alina’s. Mine. From the past.Tied to the life I left in flames. No one should have found it, not unless they were looking for her. For me.I hit the link. Trace the IP.Fuck.Someone found me.Two pings. One from Manhatta
KAIA (ALINA) POVTheo leans back in the chair, arms crossed, looking at me like he’s waiting for me to blink first."That’s everything," he says. "If this goes public, Elena's campaign is dead in the water. Her slush fund’s been funneling donor cash into shell companies for over a year. She won’t recover from this."Margot slides the folder across the table toward me, her tone cool and even. "I’ve drafted the release in three versions—anonymous leak, corporate whistleblower, and one that subtly traces back to a reporter we’ve worked with before. Pick whichever flavor of fire you want."I stare at the folder. I should feel triumphant. This is what I wanted. Every move, every buried piece of paperwork, every whisper backtracked to this moment. Elena Cross, queen of political manipulation, about to fall on her own sword.But something’s... off.Sasha’s been quiet.Too quiet."She hasn’t made a move in three days," I mutter, almost to myself.Theo raises a brow. "Sasha?"I nod, not lookin