LOGINFootsteps echoed behind her—too close, too deliberate to be coincidence.Elena didn’t turn around.Instinct took over before fear could fully bloom. She tightened her grip on her handbag, quickened her pace, and slipped into the crowded sidewalk outside the café, blending herself into strangers who knew nothing of the danger curling at her back. The city hummed as usual, unaware that something invisible and sharp was hunting her.Her heart slammed hard against her ribs.She had known leaving the penthouse alone tonight was a risk. After what happened—after trust finally cracked open like thin ice—everything felt exposed. Still, she hadn’t expected this. Not now. Not so soon.A reflection in a glass storefront caught her eye.A man. Dark coat. Phone pressed to his ear. Watching her.Elena’s breath hitched.Marcus.Or someone sent by him.She veered suddenly into a narrow side street, heels clicking faster as adrenaline surged through her veins. Her thoughts raced, piecing together ever
Silence stretched between them like a fragile glass bridge—one wrong breath away from shattering.Elena stood near the tall windows of the Cross penthouse, fingers curled tightly around her phone, knuckles pale. The city lights below blurred into meaningless sparks, nothing more than distant witnesses to the storm unraveling behind her ribs. She hadn’t meant to find out this way. She hadn’t meant to hear it from anyone else’s mouth. And yet, truth had a way of ripping through the seams when it decided the waiting was over.Damian remained near the doorway, his suit jacket discarded, tie loosened, posture rigid with a tension he no longer bothered to hide. His eyes—those sharp, guarded eyes she once believed she understood—never left her back.“You’re not even going to look at me?” he asked quietly.Breath caught in her throat. Elena closed her eyes for a brief second, steadying herself. Turning around felt heavier than lifting a mountain, but she did it anyway. Slowly. Deliberately. A
Silence stretched thin enough to snap.Elena stood by the window of the penthouse lounge, city lights scattered below like fractured stars, each one reminding her that nothing solid stayed whole for long. What Adrian had revealed still echoed in her chest, heavier than fear, sharper than anger.Enemies didn’t always announce themselves.Sometimes they smiled, advised, protected—and waited.Behind her, Damian loosened his tie slowly, the movement controlled but restless. He hadn’t spoken since Adrian left, and that worried her more than any outburst would have.“Say something,” Elena finally said.His reflection in the glass met her eyes. “If I do, it won’t be calm.”“I can handle it.”Damian exhaled, then turned fully toward her. “Vivienne crossed a line I hoped she never would.”“You hoped?” Elena asked softly. “After everything she’s done?”He paused. “Hope is stubborn. Even when it shouldn’t be.”She turned from the window. “Then stop hoping. Start preparing.”A faint, dark smile t
Footsteps echoed faintly along the marble corridor, not loud enough to draw attention, yet heavy enough to announce intent.Elena felt the shift before she fully understood it.The kiss she and Damian had shared still lingered in her chest—warm, grounding, dangerous in how much it had changed. But even as she stood there, fingers still lightly brushing his sleeve, a subtle unease crept in. Not fear exactly. Awareness.Something was wrong.Damian sensed it too. His posture shifted almost imperceptibly, the softness in his expression tightening into alertness. Years of surviving boardrooms, betrayals, and corporate wars had trained him to recognize the quiet moments before impact.“You felt that,” Elena murmured.“Yes,” he replied. “We’re not alone in this building.”The private executive floor was supposed to be secure—restricted access, biometric locks, cameras monitored by Damian’s personal security team. No one moved here without permission.Except someone had.Damian stepped away f
Silence stretched between them like a fragile thread pulled too tight, trembling with everything unsaid.Elena stood near the wide glass windows of the private lounge, the city lights blurring into soft streaks beyond the glass. Her reflection stared back at her—steady on the surface, fractured underneath. She hadn’t expected Damian to come after what had happened hours earlier, after the words that had nearly shattered whatever fragile ground they were standing on.Yet here he was.Damian Cross lingered a few steps behind her, jacket discarded, tie loosened, the sharp control he usually wore like armor visibly cracked. His presence filled the room without effort, heavy and restrained, as though every breath cost him something.Neither of them spoke.The air carried tension—not the sharp, cutting kind that came with arguments, but something deeper, heavier. A turning point hovering just out of reach.Elena broke first.“You shouldn’t be here,” she said quietly, her voice calm but edge
Stillness settled over the city in a way Elena Harper didn’t trust.Not silence—never silence—but a peculiar pause, as though the world had inhaled and was waiting to see what happened next. From the passenger seat of Adrian’s car, she watched glass towers slide past, their reflections fractured by speed and light. Her phone lay warm in her palm, Damian’s last message still open.We did it.Those three words should have felt like victory. Instead, they felt like the first quiet step onto unstable ground.“Are you sure this café is safe?” Adrian asked, eyes on the road.“Safe enough,” Elena replied. “Neutral places are louder than hiding spots. Marcus won’t expect calm after today.”Adrian nodded but didn’t look convinced. He turned into a narrow street lined with old bookstores and late-night cafés that survived on habit more than profit. Elena stepped out before he could circle the block again.“Don’t hover,” she said gently. “That draws attention.”He sighed. “I’ll be close.”Inside







