LOGINThe encounter with Lila had torn a jagged hole through the wall Bella had spent years constructing. Her silence, her carefully measured distance, the professional armor she wore like second skin all of it had crumbled in the space of one breathless moment.
After Jason’s stunned question, the silence had been thunderous.
Bella had barely managed to gather Lila into her arms, murmuring a rushed excuse about a mix-up with childcare, and fled the office with her heart pounding like a war drum. Behind her, Jason stood frozen, blueprints forgotten, his expression carved from stone and disbelief.
The next morning, Reed International was a different world.
The air crackled with something unspoken. Whispers died down when Bella entered the hallway. Eyes flickered curiously, nervously, then away. Word had clearly not spread but something had shifted. She felt it in her bones. And she didn’t have to wait long.
Jason called her in the moment she arrived.
His voice over the intercom was clipped. Cold. The door to his office closed behind her with the finality of a prison cell.
“Bella,” he said just her first name. No “Ms. Quinn.” No pretense.
The sound of it, rough and restrained, made her stomach twist.
She stood tall. “Jason.”
He didn’t sit. He circled around the desk slowly, hands in his pockets, his jaw taut. “We need to talk. About yesterday.”
Her grip tightened on the strap of her bag, knuckles whitening. “Jason, Lila is my daughter. That’s all there is to say.”
“That’s all there is to say?” he echoed, his voice rising as he stepped forward. “You expect me to believe a child with my eyes, my hair, who appeared in this building days after you—that’s all there is to say?”
She stood her ground, but her pulse thundered in her ears.
Jason’s eyes burned into hers, daring her to lie. “How old is she?”
Bella’s lips parted, her defenses trembling. “She’s five.”
A storm moved across his face. Silent. Violent.
“Five,” he repeated, as if tasting the word. “You left… five years ago.”
She saw the moment it clicked. The devastation. The betrayal. The rage.
“You were pregnant,” he whispered. “And you didn’t tell me.”
“Because you were with her!” Bella shot back, voice cracking like glass. “I walked in and saw you with Veronica. What was I supposed to think?”
Jason stepped closer, his expression unreadable. “You should’ve talked to me.”
“You were holding her like she was everything,” she hissed, years of pain flooding back. “You broke me, Jason. I ran because I had no one else.”
“And now you show up with my daughter, like none of it matters?” His voice was dangerously quiet. “You stole five years from me.”
She flinched, but her chin lifted defiantly. “Don’t you dare. I gave up everything to raise her alone. You don’t get to play the victim.”
He turned away abruptly, pressing his hands against the edge of his desk. His breathing was rough, labored. “Why now? Why here?”
“I didn’t know this was your company,” she said, her voice breaking. “I was hired through a design firm. No names. No client ID. I thought… it was a fresh start.”
Jason looked back at her. His eyes didn’t hold anger anymore. Just a hollow ache. “This isn’t over.”
He sat down and picked up a pen. “Now get me the finalized layout by Friday. We’re behind schedule.”
Dismissed. Just like that.
Later that afternoon, Bella sat at her desk, trying to focus. Her sketches were a blur. Her hands trembled slightly as she reached for a ruler. Her heart hadn’t stopped pounding since morning.
Then came the email.
From: Veronica Pierce
Subject: Urgent Consultation Request – Legacy ProjectThe message was formal, even polite. But Bella recognized the venom beneath the words.
Attached was a convoluted, outdated floor plan of a derelict Reed acquisition from years ago. It was irrelevant to current operations an obvious ploy to derail her. Veronica hadn’t wasted a second.
Bella stared at the screen for a long time before quietly deleting the email. If Veronica wanted a war, she'd picked the wrong woman.
Later, Ryan Cole stood in her doorway.
His frame filled the space, relaxed as always, but there was something softer in his expression today. “Rough morning?”
Bella gave a hollow laugh. “That obvious?”
Ryan stepped inside, his voice lower now. “I just wanted to say… don’t let Jason’s anger fool you. He’s confused. Hurt. And he’s been living in hell for years.”
She glanced up, brows raised. “Funny. I always thought he moved on just fine with Veronica.”
Ryan’s eyes sharpened. “Are you sure about that?”
Bella’s breath caught.
“What?”
“Are you sure you saw what you think you saw?” His gaze was steady. “Things… aren’t always what they seem, Bella.”
Before she could ask more, his phone buzzed. He gave her a tight nod. “We’ll talk later.”
The door clicked shut behind him, and Bella sat there stunned. Doubt slithered into her chest like smoke.
Could she have been wrong?
Later that night, her apartment was quiet. Lila was fast asleep, her tiny snores a steady rhythm through the baby monitor.
Bella sat on the couch, staring at an old photograph. It was faded now, but the memory was sharp. Her and Jason—laughing, carefree, impossibly young. Back when everything felt invincible.
Then came the image burned into her mind: Jason in his office, Veronica leaning close, a whisper, a touch. Her world had shattered in a single frame.
But now… Ryan’s words haunted her.
Was it possible that what she had seen wasn’t what it looked like?
Had she been running from a ghost?
She closed her eyes, the photograph trembling in her hands.
The past wasn’t just behind her anymore.
It was rising up alive, relentless, demanding answers.
And the only way forward… was to face it.
The air in the War Room was electric — tense, humming, alive. Every flicker on the wall of monitors looked like a heartbeat, every sound amplified against the walls lined with metal and cables. It wasn’t just another operation tonight. This was the moment everything they’d built, risked, and hidden would either collapse or explode into history.Jason stood near the central console, his jaw locked tight. The digital clock above the main screen counted down the seconds.00:03:27.Three minutes until launch.Elena stood beside the long table, sleeves rolled up, eyes lit with adrenaline and exhaustion. The glow from her terminal painted her face in sharp blues and reds. “The pulse generator’s primed,” she said. “Once I send it, Bannon’s tracker goes dark. He’ll think the War Room fried during a surge.”Jason nodded once. “He needs to believe it’s gone — no doubts, no traces.”Elena smirked faintly. “Trust me. The only thing he’ll see is a fried circuit and a dead signal. To him, that’ll l
The night began with a lie so well rehearsed it almost felt real.The penthouse glowed with the warm shimmer of candlelight and quiet jazz, the kind that tried too hard to sound casual. Jason had set the table himself — wine glasses polished, silverware aligned, everything in perfect order. But underneath the perfect setting, the air was tense enough to snap.Bella stood by the window, staring out over the city lights. Her reflection looked calm, but her fingers twisted around her bracelet, her nerves betraying her.“They’ll be here any minute,” she murmured.Jason adjusted his collar in the mirror. “Good. The sooner they come, the sooner we end this.”He poured the wine — a deep red that looked almost like blood under the soft light.When the doorbell rang, Bella forced a smile so smooth it almost fooled her. Almost.Lila stepped in first, bright-eyed, dressed in a light pink blouse that made her look younger, gentler. Her laughter filled the space like she’d walked into a safe place
“The War Room?” Jason said, standing in the doorway like a man who hadn’t expected to be shown his own bones. “You dragged Elena into this because—”“Because she doesn’t flinch,” Bella cut in. She closed the door behind her, voice flat, like someone tucking a dangerous thing into a safe place. “Because she sees trackers for what they are. Not toys, not trophies. Threats.”Elena adjusted her glasses, looked at the bank of screens and the tangle of live feeds and sensor readouts, and then at Jason as if he were one more line item. Her hands were steady. Her face was an assessment. “You called me in because something is wrong,” she said. “And you two aren’t very good at pretending otherwise.”Jason let out a breath that had been stuck in his chest for days. “The chip,” he said. “The one we found in the warehouse. It came from Bannon.”Elena’s eyes flicked to the main monitor where the tracker blipped like a heartbeat. “Voss was blunt. Bannon is subtle. Bannon doesn’t need cash from you.
The elevator doors opened with a sharp hiss, and Jason burst into the penthouse like a storm breaking glass. His breath was shallow, his pulse hammering against the edge of control. The world outside glittered—towers of light and power—but inside, everything was still. Too still.His sleek Italian loafers made no sound on the marble floor. Every step was a quiet explosion of dread.“Jason—” Bella’s voice caught in her throat as she hurried in after him, her heels clicking once before she kicked them off to move faster. “What are you doing?”Jason didn’t answer. He went straight for the bookshelf.That damned, elegant bookshelf. The one that hid their War Room—their secret heart, their digital fortress, their home.But now it was poison.Robert Bannon’s voice echoed in Jason’s head like the echo of a loaded gun:“Every time you open that shelf, my network receives a ping.”A ping.A heartbeat.A signal to their enemy.Their safe haven had been a silent bomb all along.Jason’s hands wer
Jason walked into the installation like a man stepping into an empty cathedral — quiet, echoing, full of things meant to be looked at and not touched. The lights were dim; sculptures cast long, strange shadows. Somewhere a soft mechanical chime measured seconds like a judge.He found Robert Bannon already waiting, palms flat on the table, the canvas of his face calm and unreadable. Old money, older habits. Bannon’s smile was the kind that told you he knew the rules and he enjoyed bending them.Jason set a small sealed envelope on the table and pushed it forward. The motion was casual. The sound was deliberate.“Open it,” he said.Bannon did, slow and smooth. He unfolded copies of settlement papers, signatures blurred but the meaning sharp as glass.“You know about the child,” Jason said. “I know about the woman. I know what you did to make those things vanish. The measures you took—Julian Voss would have applauded.”Bannon’s eyes didn’t change. His voice was soft, measured, like someo
The café was quiet enough to hear the spoon clink against the edge of a coffee cup. Outside, the low hum of city traffic mixed with the rustle of leaves from Central Park. Bella sat near the back corner, hidden from the crowd. The smell of roasted beans filled the air, but she barely tasted her drink. She’d been waiting—heart tight, mind racing—when Elena finally slid into the seat across from her.Elena didn’t waste time. Her sharp eyes darted once toward the window before she reached into her leather bag and pulled out a thick, sealed folder. She set it down gently, like a bomb waiting to go off.Elena (quietly): “You were right to ask about Bannon. I’ve been digging into his periphery—every hidden record, every sealed settlement. The man’s not just powerful, Bella. He’s engineered that way. Legally bulletproof. Financially sterile. A fortress in a suit.”She pushed the file across the table.Bella (hesitant): “And you found a crack?”Elena leaned back, folding her arms.Elena: “Twe







