The cold, metallic scent of the bullet seemed to suck all the air from the room. My knees buckled, and I caught myself on the edge of the kitchen table, my gaze locked on the obscene bouquet. Black roses. A bullet. It was a message from a movie, a cliché, but here, in my sunlit kitchen, it was the most terrifying thing I had ever seen.Walk away. Whitlock’s voice echoed in my head. It is the only way to protect him.He was right. This wasn’t a game. Jeff thought he was fighting with corporate bylaws and grand gestures. But the other side… they were playing for keeps.A raw, primal fear took hold, freezing me in place. I had to run. I had to disappear. For his sake.The roar of the motorcycle shattered the paralyzing silence.It wasn't a gentle purr this time. It was a furious, aggressive snarl, ripping down my quiet street and skidding to a halt right outside my door.Before I could even process it, my front door flew open.Jeff stood there, filling the doorway. He wasn't the polished
The velvet box felt like a live wire in my hand, humming with potential and peril. I didn’t open it. I couldn’t. To see the ring, to make it real, felt like accepting a challenge I wasn't sure I was strong enough to win. Instead, I placed it carefully on my kitchen windowsill, next to the stem of jasmine. A strange, beautiful altar to a war I never asked for.The day passed in a strange, suspended animation. I was waiting. For what, I didn’t know. Another message? Another sign? The roar of a motorcycle?Silence.By late afternoon, the silence was a physical pressure. I paced my small living room, my mind racing. *He’s fighting for you. What are you doing? Hiding?* His mother’s words slithered back: *“He gets bored.”* Was that what this was? Was I already proving her right by being passive, by waiting to be rescued?No.I stopped pacing. A fierce, new energy crackled through me. He’d drawn a line in the sand. It was time I picked up a sword.I didn’t have corporate bylaws or a board of
Time lost all meaning. I sat on the cold floor of my bungalow, the cease-and-desist order a crisp, cruel weight in my lap. The words *“five hundred feet”* and *“shareholder value”* were branded onto the back of my eyelids. The image of Jeff’s hand, pressed against the tinted glass in a silent, agonized farewell, played on a loop in my mind.He was gone. She had won. I had cost him everything.The sun began to rise, painting my living room in weak, grey light. It felt like an insult. How could the world just continue?A soft, rhythmic sound eventually pierced the numb silence. *Tap. Tap. Tap.*It was coming from the kitchen.I pushed myself up, my body stiff and aching, and followed the sound. It was a windowpane, loose in its frame, rattling in the morning breeze. I moved to latch it, my movements robotic.And that’s when I saw it.Tucked into the corner of the window frame, outside, was a single, perfect stem of night-blooming jasmine. Its tiny white flowers were closed against the d
The world didn’t just tilt; it shattered. The warmth of Jeff’s hand in mine turned to ice. The romantic promise of the night curdled into something dark and toxic.“What?” Jeff’s voice was a low, dangerous thing I’d never heard before. He stepped slightly in front of me, a protective move that felt futile against the enormity of what was happening. “Marcus, explain. Now.”The guard, Marcus, shifted uncomfortably. “She’s invoked the family governance clause, sir. Citing reckless behavior, impaired judgment, and… a destabilizing external influence.” His eyes flickered to me again, full of an apology that was no comfort at all. “The emergency board session is convening now. Your presence is required immediately. You’re to come with me. Alone.”Jeff let out a short, harsh laugh that held no humor. “My mother is attempting a corporate coup because I have a girlfriend? That’s absurd.”“It’s not absurd if she can convince the board it’s more than that,” Marcus said quietly, his gaze steady.
The air rushed from my lungs. Eleanor Ortega. I’d seen her name in society magazines, a titan of industry in her own right, always photographed with a frosty, unapproachable elegance. Seeing her in person was like facing a perfectly carved ice sculpture.“Ms. Ortega,” I managed, my voice tighter than I wanted it to be. I didn't step aside to let her in. “Jeff… he’s supposed to be here. We have plans.”“Plans change,” she said, her tone implying that the plans of lesser beings were inherently flexible. Her sharp eyes took in my dress, the faint hope that must have been visible on my face, and she offered a smile that didn't reach her eyes. It was a look of pity, laced with condescension. “That’s a lovely dress. It’s a shame. He won’t be coming.”The cold knot in my stomach tightened into a hard, painful ball. “Is he alright?” The question was out before I could stop it, betraying my concern.“He’s perfectly fine. A last-minute merger required his full attention. These things happen whe
The scent of ozone and fear was still a ghost in my nostrils when the doorbell rang. I jumped, my heart seizing for a split second before logic reasserted itself. *It’s just the door. Not a pulse rifle. Not her.*Last night was a blur of shouting, the shriek of metal, and Jeff’s security team swarming the penthouse. He’d wanted me to stay, of course. To be protected in his gilded cage. But I needed air that didn’t smell like his expensive cologne and shattered dreams. I’d fled to my own small, sunlit bungalow, a world away from his glass tower, and spent the night staring at the ceiling, replaying his proposal on a loop.Marry me.And Prime’s cold, final judgment.Initiating asset sterilization.A shiver ran down my spine. I padded to the door, expecting a delivery guy or my neighbor asking for sugar. I was not expecting the sight that greeted me when I swung it open.Jeff.Jeff Ortega, billionaire CEO, stood on my modest porch, looking utterly out of place. He was dressed down in dar