LOGINNYRA'S POV
The next morning I showed up at Luca’s office building right on time. Heart pounding, but I kept my face calm and professional. I chose a simple blouse and pencil skirt, neat hair, minimal makeup. This was a job. Nothing more. I was here to work hard, learn fast, and keep things strictly business no matter what happened last night. His assistant, Clara, met me in the lobby and took me up. “Mr. Luca runs a tight ship,” she warned with a small smile. “Pay attention to everything. He expects excellence from day one.” I nodded seriously. “I’m ready to learn. Just show me where to start.” She introduced me to a couple of seniors first. I listened carefully as they walked me through the filing system, scheduling software, how Luca preferred his coffee, and the exact way he liked meeting notes formatted. I took detailed notes on my tablet, asking smart questions and repeating instructions back to make sure I got everything right. By the time they left me at my desk outside his corner office, I had the morning schedule memorized and a few urgent emails already did I could do this, stay focused and adapt quick. Prove I wasn’t just here because of family. Luca’s voice came through the intercom a few minutes later. “Nyra. Come in.” I straightened my skirt, took a deep breath, and stepped inside. He was standing by the huge window overlooking the city, sleeves rolled up on his crisp white shirt. The morning light made him look even more commanding. Broad shoulders, sharp jaw, that natural CEO presence that filled the entire room. Everyone in the building seemed to move faster when he was around. Power rolled off him in waves. “Close the door,” he said without turning around at first. His tone left no room for argument. I did, the click echoing. “Good MORNING, Mr. Luca. I’ve already familiarized myself with the schedule and started on the urgent emails Clara mentioned. Is there anything specific you need me to handle first?” He finally turned. His eyes dragged over me slowly… from my heels up my legs, lingering a second too long before meeting my face. That stormy look sent heat rushing through me, but I kept my expression neutral. Professional. “First day and you’re already on top of things. Impressive,” he murmured, stepping closer. “Sit down, we have a lot to go over.” I took the seat across from his desk, back straight, notepad ready. He went through the day’s priorities with clear, authoritative instructions. No wasted words. When I suggested a small adjustment to one meeting based on what the seniors had told me, he raised an eyebrow but nodded. “Good catch. Do it that way.” For the next hour I stayed focused. I fetched files he asked for, coordinated with other departments, and jumped in to help organize notes from an emergency call. The seniors checked on me twice and seemed surprised at how quickly I was picking everything up. “You’re a natural,” one of them said. I just smiled politely and kept working. But every time I stepped back into his office, the air felt thicker. Luca watched me constantly. His strong presence filled the space, making it hard to ignore the history between us. Around midday, after a long meeting, he called me in again. “Close the door, Nyra.” I did. “The notes from the investors are ready, I’ve highlighted the key points you might want to revisit.” Instead of taking the folder, he stood up and walked around the desk. That commanding aura made my pulse spike. He stopped right in front of me, close enough that I could smell his familiar scent. “You’re doing well,” he said low, voice rough. “Better than I expected, likd most like you belong here.” His hand reached out and brushed a loose strand of hair behind my ear, then traced slowly down the side of my neck. Light but possessive. Thumb grazing my collarbone. “But we both know this isn’t just about work, don’t we?” I swallowed hard, fighting to keep my voice steady and professional. “Mr. Luca… I’m here to do the job properly. Nothing else.” He didn’t move away. Instead he leaned in, breath hot against my ear again. “Married, right.” His palm slid to my waist, pulling me forward just enough that my body brushed against his. I could feel him…half-hard already through his pants. “Yet here you are, in my office. My secretary. Adapting so quickly like the good girl you are.” His lips brushed my ear. Then his tongue traced the shell slow and wet, just like last night. I gasped softly, knees weakening for a second before I caught myself. One of his hands gripped my hip tighter. The other tilted my chin up so I had to look at him. His eyes were dark. Hungry. “Tell me again how happy you are, Nyra,” he whispered, thumb stroking my bottom lip. “How you don’t need my help… or anything else from me.” My breath hitched, the professional mask slipped for a moment. Heat pooled low in my belly even as resentment and guilt twisted inside me. The door was closed and no one could see. But this was dangerous. My body was already reacting, aching for more even while my mind screamed to push him away. He leaned in closer, lips hovering near mine. “We have a lot of catching up to do… starting right now.”The glass boardroom on the forty-second floor of Colebridge Capital felt like a pressure cooker about to blow. Luca stood at the head of the mahogany table, knuckles turned white from how hard he was pressing them into the polished wood. Outside the floor-to-ceiling windows the city was completely smothered in gray fog, but inside the air was thick with cigarette smoke, cheap coffee, and that sharp metallic tang of pure panic. Sixteen board members sat in the high-backed leather chairs, faces pale and tight. Across from Luca sat the standard counsel plus three outside crisis consultants Reid had dragged in at six that morning. “You are out of options, Luca,” Reid said. His voice was flat, razor-sharp, and completely empty of sympathy. He dropped a thick white folder in the middle of the table. “Stock dropped another seven percent at the open. Three of our biggest institutional investors already threatened to dump everything by noon if we don’t put out a clear statement. This isn’t
NYRA'S POV The morning alarm didn't ring. Neither of us needed it. By six o'clock, the sky over the city was a dirty shade of bruise-purple, heavy with rain that hadn't let up all night. The apartment was freezing. The central heating had clicked off hours ago, leaving a damp chill clinging to the tall glass windows, but neither Luca nor I moved to adjust the thermostat. I was already awake, sitting on my side of the mattress, dressed in a simple grey turtleneck and black trousers. No makeup, no jewelry, not even the silver watch Luca had bought me for my birthday last year. My skin looked pale in the dim light, but my posture was straight, rigid, and completely still. Luca moved around the bedroom like a storm contained inside a tight space. He threw on his dark charcoal suit, his broad shoulders tensing as he shoved his arms into the sleeves. He dragged a comb through his damp hair, his hands shaking just enough for me to catch the subtle tremor in the mirror’s reflection. Eve
NYRA'S POV I didn't scream. I didn't cry either. After hearing what Luca said through that cracked door, a strange, cold numbness took over my entire body. The tears just completely dried up in my eyes. I backed into the master bedroom step by slow step, shut the door without making a sound, and walked over to the bed. I sat down on the edge of the mattress and stared straight ahead at the dark, blank television screen on the wall. My hands were ice-cold, resting flat in my lap. I didn't tremble. I didn't throw anything. I didn't smash a glass against the wall. I just sat there in the dim gray light filtering through the heavy curtains, feeling like a thick, unbreakable sheet of ice had settled over my heart. A few minutes later, the study door finally clicked open. Luca’s heavy footsteps moved down the long hallway, slow and dragging like he was carrying lead weights in his shoes. He walked into the master bedroom, looking like a man who had just survived a brutal, bloody stree
NYRA'S POV By four in the afternoon, the silence inside the apartment was so thick it felt like heavy, suffocating glass. The rain had stopped making noise against the tall glass windows, settling into a dull, gray drizzle that turned the city outside into a blurred ghost town. I hadn't turned on the lights. I was sitting on the edge of the unmade bed, staring at the dark screen of my broken phone resting on the rug, my stomach twisting in sharp, uneasy knots that had been building since mid-morning. I tried to ignore the physical nausea, telling myself it was just the adrenaline, the lack of food, and the sheer terror of the internet tearing my name to shreds. I needed to move. I needed to do something other than sit in the dark while the world called me a dirty, unfaithful step-sister who had ruined two families for a corporate paycheck. I stood up, resting a hand against the wall until the quick wave of dizziness passed, and walked down the long hallway toward Luca’s private s
Monday morning arrived like an execution date.The board had called an emergency meeting for nine o'clock, but they didn't ask me to attend. They explicitly told Luca that my presence on the floor would create a "security hazard and a public distraction." By eight a.m., I was officially placed on mandatory, unpaid administrative leave pending the final outcome of the ethics board review.Translation: Stay hidden in your hole so the firm doesn't have to look at you.The headlines over the weekend hadn't died down...they had morphed into a complete media frenzy. Because I was still legally married to Richard, the press had turned the story into a feeding frenzy. “The Adulterous Step-Sister.” “The Executive, The Wife, and The Step-Brother.” They framed me not just as a corporate schemer, but as an immoral, unfaithful woman playing house with her own step-brother while her marriage fell apart.Luca left the apartment at eight. He had barely slept a full hour. His face was gray, his eyes b
The leak didn't happen as a slow leak. It hit like a truck at seven-fifteen on a Friday morning. I was standing at the kitchen counter waiting for the water to boil when my phone started vibrating against the quartz. It wasn't a call. It was a wave of text notifications, fast and relentless, popping up on the screen so quickly the glass seemed to buzz like a hive of hornets. Clara: Don't open social media. Clara: Nyra, do not look at your phone. Clara: Stay inside your apartment. I’m serious. My hand was already moving before my brain could stop it. I opened the browser. It was on the front page of The Daily Ledger’s business and entertainment gossip section. The main headline was written in massive, bold, blood-red text that filled the entire top half of the screen: "COLEBRIDGE CAPITAL’S INCEST SECRETS: SENIOR PARTNER LUCA MORETTI BEDS HIS OWN STEP-SISTER IN CORPORATE SUITE SCANDAL." Beneath the headline was a blurry, high-resolution photo...the exact photo Richard had taken.







