CHAPTER 4 GUILT

(Kyle POV)

The bruises on her wrist are unmistakable. Dark purple marks shaped exactly like fingers—someone's fingers wrapped tight around her skin, holding her, hurting her.

Lara yanks her sleeve down fast, but I've already seen enough.

My jaw clenches. I know what those marks mean. I've seen them before.

Sofia.

The memory hits me like a punch to the gut. Fifteen years ago. My sister sitting at the breakfast table, tugging her sleeves down over her wrists. That same desperate look in her eyes—shame mixed with fear mixed with something worse. Something broken.

"It's nothing, Kyle," she'd said. "I just bruise easily."

Two weeks later, her boyfriend put her in the hospital. Three months after that, he killed her.

I force the memory away, but my hands are fists on my desk.

Lara shifts in her chair, and I see more bruises peeking out from her collar. Fresh ones. Recent ones.

Maxton.

The pieces click together in my mind with cold precision. Lara is dating Maxton—my stepbrother, the pathetic waste of space who's been trying to destroy my business for years. Maxton, who's always been weak and vindictive. Maxton, who plays victim while hurting everyone around him.

Of course he's beating her.

I should feel sympathy. I should feel something human. But what floods through me is calculation.

This is an opportunity.

Maxton's greatest weakness is exposed right in front of me. If I handle this correctly, I can destroy him completely—publicly, professionally, personally. Use her pain as a weapon against him. It's strategic. Smart. Exactly what I should do.

But Sofia's face flashes in my mind again. Her broken body in that hospital bed. The way she looked at me with dying eyes and whispered, "Why didn't you save me?"

I shove the guilt down hard. This is different. Lara is an adult who made her choice to stay with Maxton. She's not my responsibility. She's not my sister.

Still, when I speak, my voice comes out softer than I intended—though still cold, controlled.

"Who did that to you?" I keep my eyes locked on hers. "And don't lie to me."

Lara's face goes pale. Her hands tremble as she pulls her sleeve down farther, covering the evidence.

"I fell," she says.

Her voice is steadier than I expected. Stronger. But I can see the lie in her eyes, in the way her shoulders tense, in the slight shake of her hands.

"You fell," I repeat slowly. "And somehow managed to fall in a way that left perfect finger-shaped bruises on your wrist."

"Yes." She lifts her chin, defiant despite the fear radiating off her. "I'm clumsy."

I lean back in my chair, studying her. She's protecting him. They always protect them.

Sofia protected hers too. Right up until he killed her.

The rage that surges through me is unexpected. Unwanted. I push it down, lock it away behind the cold mask I've perfected over years.

"Who are you dating?" I ask, though I already know the answer.

Her face goes even paler. "That's personal."

"Everything is personal when it affects your work performance." I tap the papers on my desk. "Your quality has been declining for weeks. You're distracted. Scared. Now I see why."

"I told you, I fell—"

"Stop lying." My voice cuts through her excuse like a blade. "I'm not an idiot, Miss Howard. I know what abuse looks like."

She flinches at the word. Good. Maybe if I say it out loud, she'll stop pretending.

"I'm fine," she whispers.

"You're not fine. You're terrified." I stand up, moving around my desk. She shrinks back in her chair. "Someone is hurting you. Someone is putting their hands on you and leaving marks."

"Please." Her voice cracks. "Just drop it."

"Is it Maxton?"

The question hangs in the air between us. Heavy… Dangerous.

Lara's eyes go wide with panic. She opens her mouth to deny it, but nothing comes out.

That's all the confirmation I need.

“Did someone beat you up?” I asked, noticing her facial expression carefully and wanting her to tell me the truth.

"You're wrong." But her voice wavers.

"Am I? Then show me your wrists. Show me your arms. I bet there are more bruises under those clothes, aren't there?"

She backs toward the door. "This conversation is over."

"Running away won't solve your problem, Miss Howard."

"My problem," she says through gritted teeth, "is none of your business."

She's right. It's not my business. I should let her go. Let her make her own mistakes. But Sofia's voice echoes in my head: Why didn't you save me?

"Fix your work quality," I say coldly, sitting back down at my desk. "I don't accept excuses. If your performance doesn't improve by the end of the week, you're fired."

It's cruel. I know it's cruel. But maybe losing this job will force her to leave Maxton. Maybe hitting rock bottom is what she needs.

Or maybe I'm just lying to myself to justify being an asshole.

Lara stares at me with pure hatred in her eyes. "Anything else?"

"That's all. Dismissed."

She turns and walks to the door, her back straight despite the pain I know she's in. Before she leaves, she looks back at me one more time.

"You really are heartless," she says quietly. "Maxton was right about that."

The door closes behind her with a soft click.

I sit alone in my office, staring at the space where she stood. The anger is still there, burning cold in my chest. Anger at Maxton for hurting her. Anger at her for letting him. Anger at myself for caring at all.

I pull out my phone and scroll to Maxton's number. My finger hovers over the call button.

I could confront him. Threaten him. Use this information to destroy him the way he's been trying to destroy me.

But that would put Lara in more danger. I know how men like Maxton work. If he thinks she told me, he'll hurt her worse.

I put the phone down.

This isn't about strategy or revenge. This is about a woman being abused, and I'm sitting here calculating how to use it for my benefit.

Sofia would be ashamed of me.

I lean back in my chair and close my eyes. The office is quiet except for the hum of the air conditioning and the distant sound of traffic outside.

I should feel nothing. I've trained myself to feel nothing.

But all I feel is the ghost of my sister's hand in mine, and the weight of promises I couldn't keep.