LOGINBianca didn't look up from her laptop.
The numbers on the screen blurred together.
She started again. A soft knock came against her office door.
"Miss Ellington?"
She looked up.
Her assistant stood outside. "Your coffee."
"Thank you."
The young woman set the cup down carefully. "I heard the directors approved your proposal."
Bianca smiled. "They did."
"Congratulations."
"Thanks."
The assistant hesitated. "You've been here since seven. You should go home."
"I will."
The assistant nodded and quietly left.
The smile disappeared the moment the door closed.
Bianca leaned back in her chair.
Her mind drifted to the marina.
I need your help.
I wasn't lying when I said I had nowhere else to go.
She shook her head.
"No."
She reached for another file.
...
By the time she left the office, the sky had turned orange.
She glanced at the clock.
Six o'clock. She had time.
A smile crept onto her face.
Maybe she should surprise him instead.
...
Twenty minutes later, Bianca parked outside Daniel's apartment building.
She stopped by the bakery downstairs.
Daniel loved chocolate cake.
She carried the small white box in one hand and took the elevator upstairs.
Apartment 804.
She stood outside the door.
Just as she lifted her hand to knock—
A woman's voice came from inside. "You've been avoiding me."
Bianca frowned. She looked at the apartment number again.
804.
She hadn't made a mistake.
Daniel answered. "I told you not to come here."
"Then answer your phone."
There was a long silence and Bianca took a small step back.
The door wasn't fully closed, she could hear them clearly.
"You keep choosing her." The woman's voice cracked.
"How much longer are you going to keep pretending?"
Daniel let out a tired sigh. "You don't understand."
"Then explain it to me." Bianca's fingers tightened around the cake box.
Inside, a chair scraped across the floor.
"I've already invested years into this."
Her heartbeat slowed.
Years?
"What does that even mean?" the woman asked.
"It means I'm not walking away now."
"Because you love her?"
Bianca waited. So did the woman.
Daniel laughed. A quiet, humorless laugh.
"Love?"
The word hit Bianca before the next sentence did.
"When was the last time you heard me talk about love?"
The woman spoke again. "So... you don't?"
Daniel didn't answer immediately.
When he finally did, his voice was flat. "Love was never the point."
The cake box slipped in Bianca's hands. She caught it before it hit the floor.
Inside the apartment, neither of them noticed.
The woman sounded confused. "Then why stay with her?"
"Because being close to Bianca opened doors." Bianca's eyes slowly widened.
"What?"
"The Ellington family." Daniel's voice stayed calm. "It gave me opportunities people from my background don't get."
The woman stared at him. "So you've been using her?"
"I used the situation."
"Daniel..."
"I'm too close now." His voice hardened.
"I'm not walking away until I get everything I deserve."
The hallway spun.
Bianca pressed one hand against the wall.
No.
No...
The woman lowered her voice.
"What if she really loves you?"
Daniel shrugged. "So?"
Bianca bit down so hard on her lip she tasted blood.
Inside the apartment, the woman whispered,
"You're cruel."
Daniel looked toward the window.
Bianca stepped back slowly. Her legs barely held her.
She didn't remember reaching the elevator.
She didn't remember pressing the button.
She only realized she was crying when a tear landed on the white cake box.
The elevator doors opened.
An elderly couple smiled at her.
She looked down and she couldn't smile back.
...
By the time she reached her car, her hands were shaking.
She unlocked it on the third try.
The cake slid onto the passenger seat.
She stared at it then she laughed. It came out broken.
A second later, she covered her face.
Everything she'd defended.
Every argument she'd had with her parents, every promise Daniel had made, every future she'd imagined was fruitless.
She gripped the steering wheel until her knuckles turned white.
"Why?"
The word barely left her lips.
Her chest tightened. She bent forward, resting her forehead against the steering wheel.
The tears wouldn't stop.
...
Across the city...
Ethan stared at his phone.
Another message from Daisy.
**The hospital can't delay the surgery anymore. They're asking me to confirm tomorrow. I don't know what to tell them.**
He closed his eyes.
Then another message arrived.
**I'm scared, Ethan.**
He stood up so quickly his chair rolled backward.
He paced across the room. His father wouldn't listen.
He'd tried everything. His eyes landed on Bianca's number.
He stood there for almost a full minute. She'd already rejected him.
She had every reason to.
He rubbed a hand over his face. "I have nothing left."
He pressed call.
Bianca's phone vibrated on the passenger seat.
She ignored it.
It rang again.
She looked up.
Unknown Number.
She almost declined it. Instead...She answered.
"Hello?"
Neither of them spoke at first.
Then Ethan's voice came quietly through the speaker.
"Bianca..."
She closed her eyes.
"I know you've already given me your answer." He swallowed. "But... please, just hear me out."
She looked through the windshield.
The lights of the city blurred behind her tears.
Daniel's voice echoed inside her head.
**Love was never the point.**
She let out a shaky breath.
There was nothing left to protect, nothing left to wait for and nothing left to believe in.
"...I'll do it."
Silence.
Ethan was shocked. He wasn't sure he'd heard her correctly.
"What...?"
"I said..." She wiped at her face with the back of her hand. "...I'll do it."
Then Ethan lowered himself onto the edge of the sofa.
His knees suddenly felt weak.
Bianca stared through the windshield.
Her voice trembled. "Tell me when and where."
Daniel started with the money. He didn’t bring it up directly, of course, because that would have been too obvious. Instead, he let it sit in the space between them, mentioned casually over the first drink as though it had just occurred to him. “You know, when I covered that cheque, I never expected anything back. I want you to know that. I did it because you needed help, and that was enough for me.”Adam nodded slowly, eyes on the table. “I know.”Daniel watched him for a moment, then leaned back and tried a different angle. “I thought we were friends, Adam. I really did. I still do.”“We are friends,” Adam said quietly.“Then help me understand what’s changed.” Daniel’s voice was soft, almost wounded. “A few weeks ago, you would have trusted me with anything. Now you won’t even look at me.”Adam did look at him then, and something in his expression was steadier than Daniel had seen before. “A few weeks ago, you asked for a scheduling report. Now you’re asking for access credentials
“I need something more this time,” Daniel said.He kept his voice light, almost casual, the way he always did. They were sitting in the same corner booth, the same low lighting, the same half-empty glasses between them. It was supposed to feel familiar.Adam didn’t touch his drink.Daniel leaned forward slightly, elbows on the table, closing the distance in a way that felt friendly. “It’s not a big thing. My client needs access to a restricted internal drive before a bid closes.”Adam looked at him for a long moment. His hands were flat on the table, still, and his expression hadn’t changed much since Daniel had started talking.Daniel watched him carefully, reading the silence for what it was. He’d known this was coming. Adam had been pulling back for days now, slower to respond, quicker to leave, less willing to meet his eyes. The flagged report had rattled him more than Daniel had expected, and Daniel had spent the last week doing damage control, reassuring him, smoothing things ov
Bianca wasn't able to sleep properly, she lay in the dark of her room in the Anderson mansion, staring at the ceiling, turning the sentence over in her mind like something she could hold up to the light and examine. “I don't like watching him look at you like that." She spent weeks teaching herself to read Ethan Anderson. The careful half-smiles, the deliberate pauses. The silences that carried more than words ever did. She knew what he sounded like when he was performing, when he was deflecting, when he was giving someone the answer they expected so he could move on to the next thing. She'd learned the rhythm of it, the way he kept himself tucked behind walls he'd spent years building. That sentence hadn't come from behind a wall. It had come out before he'd decided to say it. She'd heard the slip in his voice, seen the way he'd looked away immediately after, as if the words had escaped and he was already trying to chase them back. And then, when she'd asked him what he m
Ethan's hand settled against Bianca's back like it belonged there. The partner switch had worked in his favor — a coincidence of tradition he hadn't planned but had taken full advantage of anyway. No one in the room would question it. He was her partner for the evening, the man she was publicly engaged to, the one everyone expected her to dance with. Stepping in was well within his rights. That didn't explain the tightness in his jaw or the way his fingers pressed a little more firmly than the dance required. Bianca looked up at him as they moved, her expression caught somewhere between surprise and something he couldn't read. She didn't say anything. Neither did he. The orchestra played on. For the first time since they'd started this arrangement, he was holding her with no performance required. It was just the two of them, moving in slow circles, surrounded by people who didn't matter. Something in his chest loosened that he slipped past the careful contr
Chapter 40 — The Wedding The wedding was everything Bianca expected and nothing she was prepared for. The venue was a private estate on the outskirts of Dubai, the kind of place that had been in the same family for generations and showed no signs of leaving it. Gardens stretched in every direction, lit with lanterns and strung with soft white lights. A live orchestra played near the center of the courtyard, and guests moved between tables with the easy familiarity of people who had known each other for years. Bianca stood beside Ethan near the entrance, smiling for a photograph she hadn't been asked to pose for. The photographer had simply appeared, camera raised, and neither of them had been given a chance to object. "One more," the photographer said. "Closer, please." Ethan shifted slightly. His shoulder brushed hers. His hand found the small of her back, light and deliberate, exactly where it was supposed to be. The camera clicked. "Perfect," the pho
The ballroom on the second floor of the Anderson mansion had been transformed. The furniture had been pushed to the walls, the heavy curtains drawn back to let in the late afternoon light, and a portable speaker sat on a small table near the windows, playing something slow and orchestral. Flora, the instructor, stood in the center of the floor with her hands clasped behind her back, waiting. Bianca stood opposite Ethan, close enough to see the faint shadow of a beard along his jaw. He looked tired. He'd been quiet all day, in a way that suggested he was thinking about something. "We'll start with posture," Flora said. "Ethan, right hand on her back. Not too high. Not too low. Just above the waist." Ethan stepped closer. His hand settled against Bianca's lower back, warm through the fabric of her dress. She felt the pressure of his palm, steady and deliberate. "Good," Flora said. "Bianca, left hand on his shoulder.







