Chapter 5

CYRUS’s POV

“Do I really need to spell it out?” I asked. “I don’t need to take revenge on you directly. I know just the right strings to pull to make you regret ever leaving me… and just wish you never crossed paths with me.”

“What if,” he said quietly after a pause, “I already regret it?”

Our eyes locked. And just like that, everything inside me collapsed. My heart sank so violently it hurt.

What was this?

What was wrong with me?

Why did his words still reach places I swore were dead?

Did I care that he regretted it?

Did I want him to?

I had come too far. I couldn’t back out now. Not even while he knelt there, broken. Not even when part of me wanted to kneel with him to get him back on his feet.

“You’ve not regretted it enough.” I replied, my voice barely cold. “It’s until you beg for life to take you back to where it was given to you.”

I didn’t wait for his answer.

I turned and walked away before I could see what my words did to him—before I could see if they broke him or if they broke me instead.

The car door opened smoothly. I slid inside and shut the door with more force than necessary, my chest rising sharply as the driver started the engine.

I had come to watch Marcus fall. But why does it feel like I was sinking with him?

My phone vibrated.

I frowned, pulling it from my pocket more out of irritation than curiosity. The screen lit up. A message from a private number.

“I see you’re back. Want to know the truth about your mother and step-father’s death?”

The words didn’t register immediately.

I read them again.

And again.

The world seemed to tilt, my breath catching sharply in my throat. My fingers tightened around the phone until my knuckles ached.

Truth?

That thought had crossed my mind once—only once—after Marcus divorced me. I thought it was just a poisonous idea born out of betrayal and grief.

Accidents happen.

People die.

That was life.

But the message sat there, glowing calmly on my screen, as if it had been waiting for me.

Marcus. Thomas. Vivian.

At least, it would be one of them that killed my mother. But would the children be so cruel to kill their father? Or would Vivian kill her husband?

To get an enemy, you have to stay right under their nose.

The driver glanced at me through the rearview mirror. “Sir?”

“Wait,” I said, my voice steady despite the way my pulse thundered in my ears.

My eyes drifted back to the closed gates. What if everything I believed was wrong?

What if Marcus wasn’t the beginning of my ruin but just another piece on the board?

My jaw clenched.

I opened the door and stepped out before Maxwell could ask another question.

Marcus was still there when I turned back—still on the ground, still broken in ways he brought on himself. He looked up when he heard my footsteps, hope flashing too quickly in his eyes before he could hide it.

That look alone made my chest ache.

“I’m not doing this for you,” I said flatly, stopping a few feet away from him. “Don’t mistake this for forgiveness.”

He swallowed. “Then why—”

“As much as I dislike helping people like you,” I interrupted, “I can’t stand watching things rot when I know they didn’t fall apart on their own.”

I looked away before my expression betrayed me. “I’ll help you rebuild everything. The company. The mess. Your reputation.”

His breath hitched.

“And then,” I added quietly, “I’ll decide if you deserve it.”

For a long moment, he said nothing. Then he nodded, slow and unsteady, as if afraid the deal might disappear if he moved too fast.

“I agree,” he said. “To everything.”

That was the moment I knew I had made a mistake. Or the smartest move of my life.

He stretched his hand forward for assistance while struggling to stand up but I didn’t take it. He managed to get to his feet but then he staggered backward and I was forced to grab him.

He fell directly in my chest, his breathing oozing through my shirt into my skin. A burning sensation made my skin jolt as heat—just like from the past—pooled in between my legs and a small bulge formed in my briefs.

Fuck.

I helped him restore his balance and left.

We entered the car and I passed an address to the driver. “Take us there.”

The drive to our destination was silent. We arrived in front of the penthouse Marcus had bought for us shortly after our marriage. We often visited on weekends.

I collected my traveling bags from the guards. “Y’all can retire for the night. I’ll handle it from here.”

They bowed and left.

“Let’s go.” I said to Marcus who later walked feet behind as if he was scared of me. Or maybe the house.

The moment I opened the door, it felt like the past rushed out to meet me—the faint scent of the cologne he used to wear, the giggles at the dining, and so much more.

Every step felt like walking through a memory I hadn’t given permission to exist.

“Since there’s just a room here,” I exhaled. “I’ll take the room while you sleep here.”

I opened my bag and handed him my extra nightmare. “You can take your bath. Then change into that.”

“Thanks.” Was all he said as he headed towards the room. Then he stopped at the entrance. “There’s a private investor’s meeting at Hale Enterprises tomorrow. Invite-only.”

I turned slightly. “And?”

“If we can get in,” he said carefully, “it could change everything.”

“We’ll figure it out,” I said.

Afterwards, I wondered what I was doing. I was helping him. And that too, quicker than I expected. But if he might be the catch to know about my mother’s death, I’m willing to take the risk.

I peered into my phone, hoping to get another message from the private number.

All I heard next was a loud thud on the floor. I raised my head to find Marcus on the floor.

“Marcus!” I screamed sharply, running towards him.

I gripped his body against my chest but it was completely limp and cold.

My heart slammed against my ribs.