LOGINRivera had not realized how much she needed something light until she stepped into the evening air and felt the weight of the day loosen just slightly from her shoulders.It wasn’t gone. His silence lingered, stubborn and quiet, but it wasn’t suffocating anymore. Not with the restless anticipation building inside her.She adjusted her grip on her bag as she stepped out of the car, her gaze lifting toward the glowing entrance of the High Street VIP Bar. The building stood polished, its glass exterior reflecting the last stretch of daylight while warm lights flickered to life inside.For a brief second, she hesitated. Not because she didn’t want to go in, but because of everything waiting on the other side: Luke, her father, the truth.The inside was alive. Low music hummed beneath the sound of laughter and conversation. The space was designed to impress. It had sleek finishes, warm lighting, and an effortless kind of luxury that didn’t need to announce itself loudly to be noticed.Rive
Reagan Royce did not believe in coincidences. Not in business, not in people, and certainly not in reactions that arrived too quickly and too precisely to be dismissed as nothing.All day, he replayed the previous afternoon more times than he cared to admit. Not the conversation itself, he remembered that with exact clarity, but the details around it.He had seen fear and lies before. What unsettled him was how controlled hers had been.Reagan stood at the head of the conference table, one hand resting lightly against the polished surface, the other holding a tablet he had not looked at in the last ten minutes. Across from him, Daniel was speaking, something about quarterly projections, adjustments, minor discrepancies, but Reagan’s attention was elsewhere.His gaze lifted, almost involuntarily, to where Rivera sat. She was composed. Of course she was. Her posture straight, her pen moving steadily across the page as she took notes. There was no visible outward sign of distraction. To
Monday did not arrive gently. If Rivera had guessed how the day would turn out, she would have feigned illness and stayed in bed.Right from when she woke up, there was a weight in her chest she could not name, something that lingered from the night before and had been overwhelming enough to follow her into the morning.She lay still for a moment, staring up at the ceiling, her thoughts moving slowly, deliberately, circling the same point without quite landing on it.Reagan. Or rather, his silence. It had not been the usual kind. Not the detached indifference she had already begun to understand, to work around, even to challenge in her own way. This was different, it was like he had deliberately chosen it to punish her or worse, push her away.Rivera exhaled softly, pushing herself upright. There was no point dwelling on it. If there was one thing she had learned about Reagan Royce, it was that he rarely did anything without intention. And whatever yesterday had been, it had meant som
Reagan’s gaze lingered on her. It wasn’t sharp, nor openly accusatory. There was no immediate hostility in it, nothing that could be pointed to and named without question. But it stayed on her as though he had chosen to place his attention on her and had no intention of taking it away.Rivera felt it even after she lowered her eyes to her plate. She adjusted her grip on her fork, forcing her fingers to loosen. She needed to behave naturally, and move as though nothing in the air between them had shifted. The phone lay beside her, face down now, its earlier interruption reduced to silence but the weight of it remained.She could ignore the device but she could not ignore him.“Nothing?” he repeated. His voice was calm, almost absent-minded in tone, yet there was something beneath it. It wasn't suspicion, not quite. It hadn’t hardened into that yet.It was careful, observant attention. Careful, unrelenting in a way that did not need force.Rivera reached for her glass of water. Her move
Rivera spent most of the morning in the garden. By the time the sun climbed higher in the sky, Rivera's fingers were lightly dusted with soil and her clothes carried faint green stains from brushing against leaves and stems, but she did not mind.Back home, gardening had been something she did whenever she felt restless. It was one of the few habits that had followed her everywhere without question.She crouched beside a small row of flowers she discovered behind a cluster of hedges and began brushing loose soil around the base of the plant.“You’re doing it wrong.” His voice came from behind her. When she turned, Reagan was standing a few feet away with his hands tucked loosely into the pockets of his dark trousers. As always, his expression was unreadable.Rivera blinked at him. “Excuse me?” she said.Reagan nodded toward the plant she had been working on. “You’re pressing the soil too tight. The roots need air.”Rivera stared at him for a moment. Then she looked down at the flower,
By the time Rivera woke up the next day, the sun was already up in the sky. For a moment she lay still in bed, staring at the pale ceiling above her. Sunday mornings were different from the other days of the week. Even the house seemed to know it. There were no hurried footsteps in the corridors and no distant sounds of staff preparing for the day’s work because most of them get their day off on Sundays.She turned her head slightly and looked toward the window. The curtains were not fully drawn, and a thin ribbon of golden light slipped through the gap, resting gently on the marble floor.Rivera exhaled slowly. Her body still carried the faint heaviness of the previous night. Not from the wine, but from everything else; the dinner, the laughter, Reagan’s unexpected appearance, and most of all Clara.The memory of that meeting rose again uninvited. Her arrogance bothered her but not as much as what Reagan had said about her that evening at his office, that she was just a shield for Cl
Rivera’s fingers stilled on the keyboard. “Did he say why?”“No,” Daniel said. “Just, ‘Forward everything to Executive.’ No explanation.”Chloe leaned back in her chair slowly. “That is not normal.”Tessa, who had been quiet until now, turned around from her desk. “Maybe he’s giving you a break?”R
Rivera arrived earlier than everyone else. The office was quiet, almost empty. Only the cleaners were around. She sat at her desk and finally powered on her phone. It vibrated nonstop in her hand.She had many missed calls. Most of them were from Reagan. A few from Lina. Rivera gasped softly. She h
Reagan did not sleep. He lay on the wide bed in the master suite, eyes open, and staring at the dark ceiling. The room was silent except for the faint ticking of the clock on the wall. It sounded louder than usual, like it was counting every second of his irritation. His wife had gone AWOL and this
Reagan’s office felt different after Clara left. The atmosphere felt heavier. His tie was loose, and his sleeves were rolled up. Papers lay open in front of him, untouched. He had been staring at the same page for ten minutes.Rivera. Her name moved through his mind again and again, soft and stubbo







