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.
“It’s always the quiet ones,” Jason said—half joke, half warning—before the door clicked shut behind them.“Don’t say that like it’s a consolation prize,” Bella murmured, sliding her hand into the small of his back. The War Room’s glass still blurred in her mind like a bad dream; monitors wiped clean, red lines that looked like bleeding. “Quiet can be a trap.”“Then we’ll make noise when we need to.” He breathed against her hair. “Right now? I want to be loud in a different way.”She laughed, the sound fragile and defiant. “You and your metaphors.”“Not a metaphor.” He kissed the side of her neck. “A promise.”They had left the War Room with strategy notes folded into their pockets and the weight of the night in their shoulders. They had also left, deliberately, the armor they showed the world—the tailored suits, the polished words, the public faces that smiled for cameras and shook hands with people who liked to pretend loyalty was purchasable.The bedroom lights were low. The city o
The handshake looked warm from a distance — practiced, polite, even friendly. But up close, it was anything but.Robert Bannon’s grip was firm and deliberate, the kind of handshake meant to send a message: I’m in control. His smile didn’t reach his eyes, and the calm in his tone was the kind that made Jason Reed’s instincts flare red.The room itself mirrored that tension — polished marble floors, golden chandeliers, champagne glasses glinting beneath soft jazz. Every conversation felt rehearsed, every laugh a performance. The launch event for the Bannon Foundation’s “New Cities Initiative” wasn’t about charity or progress. It was about power — and tonight, Jason and Bella had walked right into its nest.Robert turned slightly, the movement smooth, almost predatory. “A genuine pleasure, Jason,” he said, his voice carrying that rich, velvety authority of a man who owned every room he entered. “Lila is a remarkable young woman. Ethan speaks highly of her vision. We believe strongly in f
The invitation arrived in a thick white envelope with gold trim and Jason Reed’s name embossed in bold letters. Inside, the words shimmered like a performance:The Bannon Foundation cordially invites you to the Young Leaders in Sustainable Design Gala.Jason turned the card slowly between his fingers before setting it on the table.He looked across at his daughter, Lila, who was busy scrolling through her phone, and then at Ethan—her boyfriend, the one Jason had avoided acknowledging for months. Ethan sat stiffly, trying to act casual in the presence of a man who clearly didn’t want him there.Jason’s tone was smooth, practiced—the kind that made boardrooms listen but families flinch.“Lila,” he began, “I’ve decided I want to get to know Ethan better.”Lila’s head shot up, her eyes wide. “You… do?”Jason smiled the kind of smile that looked generous but wasn’t. “This gala is the perfect place. It’ll showcase the Foundation’s next generation. You and Ethan will attend with us.”Ethan b
They met Elena in a glass tower that pretended not to stare at the river. Her office smelled of polished wood and iced water. She never smiled unless a plan needed polishing.“Elena,” Bella said, sliding into the chair opposite the lawyer. “We have a problem that’s legal on the face of it, and lethal behind the curtains.”“Talk,” Elena said, putting down her glass. She didn’t have the theatricality of shock; she had the efficiency of judgment.“Cerberus,” Bella said. “And Bannon.”“Elena’s eyebrows didn’t move. She had read richer crime novels for relaxation. “Cerberus is a ghost, Bella. It’s a web of shell companies, trusts, and private foundations. It looks like a fortress because its couriers are invisible.”“How do you attack that?” Bella asked. “We can’t sue a phantom.”“You embarrass it.” Elena said the word like it was a surgical tool. “Every ghost has a face when it wants to show off. They throw parties. They like to vet people. They need theatre.”“You mean a black-tie event?
The War Room smelled faintly of coffee and old paper. The lights were low. Maps and corporate charts lay like a city under glass. It was supposed to be where they planned a campaign — but tonight it was where they kept their marriage alive.“Listen to me,” Bella said, leaning over the table, her hand sliding up the back of Jason’s neck so she could feel him breathe. “Ethan is bait. Sixteen. Works in a bookstore. He doesn’t know anything he can’t forget.”“He’s not the player,” Jason replied, tracing a thin red line from a holding company to a trust account on the tablet. “His father is. Robert Bannon controls a third of the Cerberus Group. That’s not a hobby, Bella. That’s a pillar.”“You keep saying ‘Cerberus’ like it’s a monster you can name and kill.” Bella’s voice was quiet but sharp. “Is it a company, or is it a legal fiction stitched together by lawyers in Bermuda?”“It’s both.” Jason tapped a node until it blinked. “Cerberus, Hydra, Scylla — three holding networks feeding one a
The War Room, once Jason’s fortress of control, now felt like a graveyard of broken promises. The hum of the servers was the only sound left after hours of shouting, accusations, and silence heavy enough to crush a man’s chest.Jason stood in the middle of it all—his tie loosened, his eyes bloodshot, his expression stripped of command. He looked less like a CEO and more like a man who had lost everything except the guilt holding him upright.He spoke softly, the words trembling out of him like a confession.Jason: “You’re right, Bella. You’ve always been right. I’m sorry.”His voice cracked. “I let the fear consume me. I thought I was protecting you—protecting us—but all I did was destroy the trust holding this together.”He walked over to the central computer, the screen reflecting his worn face like a mirror he could no longer avoid. His fingers hovered over the keyboard, trembling. Then, with slow, deliberate motions, he began wiping the drives one by one. Files disappeared, years







