Chapter Seventeen

ELENA

I reach my apartment with only minutes before Damien arrives. Seven minutes to decide what lie I’ll use, what truth I’ll avoid, what danger I’ll hide.

My apartment feels smaller than ever. One bedroom. Fading paint. Thin walls. A life built on survival. While he lives in a penthouse above the whole city. The contrast hurts in a way I hate to admit.

I’m halfway out of my work clothes—well, former work clothes—when footsteps stop outside my door. Sharp. Determined.

A knock. Hard enough to shake the frame.

“Elena. I know you’re in there. Open the door.”

My heart kicks up. Another knock—louder. “I’m not leaving. Your neighbors are already listening.”

Mrs. Chen is absolutely behind her peephole.

I drag on yoga pants and a sweatshirt and open the door.

He stands there—rumpled suit, loose tie, wild eyes. Angry. Hurt. Too handsome for my tiny hallway.

“Inside,” I whisper. “Before my neighbors create their own version of this.”

He steps in. I lock the door. We stare at each other, the air thick.

“Nice place,” he says, dry and sharp.

“It’s what I can afford.”

“With the salary I paid you, you could afford better.”

“I send most of it to my grandmother’s medical bills.”

His expression flickers with something like guilt, then anger returns.

“Why did you really resign?”

“I told you—”

“You lied.” He moves closer. “So I’ll ask one more time. What happened with Marcus?”

I inhale. I could lie again. I should. But my grandmother’s voice rings in my head: Stop running.

“He showed me photos,” I say. “Of us. In your office. On the rooftop. Outside your apartment.”

Damien stills. “From where?”

“Security footage. Someone with access sent them to him.”

“What kind of photos?”

“Ones that look like an affair.”

His jaw tightens. “Marcus gave you an ultimatum.”

“He said I could resign quietly or he’d take it to the board. Even if nothing was proven, the scandal could destroy everything.”

“So you decided to protect me.”

“I protected your company.”

“You didn’t give me a choice,” he says softly, dangerously. “You walked away and expected me to accept it.”

“You would have fought for me. Fired Marcus. Started a war. This way it ends clean.”

“Except it didn’t.” His voice cracks. “I don’t get to move on. I get to watch you throw us away because you’re scared.”

“I’m not scared—”

“What do you call running? What do you call choosing for both of us?”

“I call it being smart. Someone is targeting us, Damien. And it didn’t stop with Marcus.”

I show him the messages. The doctored photos. The warnings.

His expression darkens. “They contacted you?”

“Right after I left your office.”

“And you didn’t tell me?”

“They said staying away would protect you.”

“Let me decide what protects me.”

“I am trying.”

“By leaving me?”

He paces my tiny living room like he’s too big for it. “Whoever this is wants us apart. Wants me distracted.”

“Claire,” I whisper. “She has access to everything. She’s been territorial since day one.”

“Claire has been with me for years.”

“That doesn’t mean she wants me near you.”

He processes that, then nods slowly. “If it’s her, she’s not working alone.”

“Marcus?”

“Maybe. Or someone on the board. Someone who benefits from tearing me down right now.”

“The vote,” I say. “About going public.”

He exhale sharply. “Exactly. If I’m dragged into scandal, they’ll use it to push the vote.”

His phone buzzes. He ignores it. “I’m calling security. We’ll see who accessed those files.”

“They’ll know you’re onto them.”

“Let them.”

“They’ll release everything.”

“Then let them.”

“You’ll lose everything!”

He cups my face. “I’ll lose more if I lose you.”

My heart stumbles.

“You are the woman I think about every second,” he whispers. “The woman I want in my future. So we fight this. Together.”

“We haven’t defined anything.”

“I’ll define it now. You matter to me. More than the company. More than any of this.”

It’s insane. It’s real. It’s terrifying.

He steps closer. “Promise me you won’t run again.”

I swallow hard. “Together,” I whisper.

His lips brush mine—soft, careful, like he’s scared I’ll break.

Then he pulls back. “Tell me everything.”

We sit on my old couch. I tell him every detail—the voice, the photos, the threat about my grandmother.

His expression grows darker with each detail.

“They want me compliant,” he says. “They want me scared.”

His phone rings. He frowns. “Marcus.”

He answers. Speaker on.

“We have a problem,” Marcus says. “Someone leaked Elena’s resignation. Press is running with an affair story. The board wants an emergency meeting at 8 AM.”

My stomach drops.

“Anonymous leak,” Marcus continues. “They want clarification about your relationship.”

“What relationship?” Damien says sharply.

“Exactly. But this looks bad.”

“Because someone wants it to look bad,” Damien says. “You were manipulated.”

“What? Damien, I only—”

“You were used, Marcus. Someone targeted Elena and fed you the bait.”

Silence. Then Marcus curses under his breath. “Who’s behind this?”

“That’s what we’re going to find out.”

“Damien, if the board finds out she’s still in your apartment—”

“Then they find out.” Damien hangs up and turns to me. “Pack a bag.”

“What?”

“You’re not staying here. They already know where you live.”

“Damien—”

“No.” He grips my hand. “You’re coming with me.”

I don’t argue. I pack like someone on the run.

While I zip the bag, a new message comes.

I warned you. Now you’ll both pay.

Attached: A photo of Damien walking into my building. Timestamp twenty minutes ago.

They’re still watching.

I show him. He nods, adds it to his evidence folder.

“Good,” he says. “More proof.”

“What are you going to do?”

“Call a board meeting. My own. Tonight.”

“That’s dangerous.”

“So is letting them win.”

We leave my apartment. Mrs. Chen peeks out.

“You okay, Elena?” she asks.

“Yes, Mrs. Chen.”

“That your boyfriend? He looks expensive.”

Despite everything, I smile. “Something like that.”

His car is waiting. On the drive, his hand locks around mine while he calls security, his lawyer, someone he calls “my best tech mind.”

His voice is all steel and control. The CEO everyone fears.

But his thumb rubs circles on my hand the whole time.

At The Cartwright, Raymond nods at me with a quiet, knowing smile. Damien steps into the private elevator with me still in his hand.

He exhales only when we reach his penthouse.

“Thank you,” he says softly. “For staying with me. For fighting.”

“I’m scared,” I admit.

“So am I,” he says. “But we face it together.”

We step into the apartment. The city glows below us.

Someone out there is planning to destroy us.

But tonight, we’re planning our next move.

And I’m done being the victim.

It’s my turn to fight.

Starting now.