Night blanketed the city in velvet darkness, the skyline glittering like a thousand watching eyes. From the penthouse windows, Damon stared out at the restless city below his empire glowing beneath a sky that knew nothing of the storm looming overhead.Inside, the air was thick with the weight of inevitability. Damon stood stiffly by the fireplace, shadows flickering across his face. Juliette sat across from him, both hands wrapped around a steaming mug she hadn’t touched. Their silence was not hesitation, it was the pause before a final strike.The velvet box had arrived hours ago, placed at their door with eerie precision.Inside:A single black feather.A silver bullet.And a blood-red note:“Surrender your empire or bury the ones you love. —C”.Juliette had gone pale.Damon hadn’t flinched.“I won’t give her anything,” he said now, voice carved from stone. “Not the company. Not you. Not Mason”.Juliette took a sip from her mug, the heat grounding her. “Then we stop waiting. Celeste
The Manhattan skyline glowed under the twilight, a sharp silhouette of fire and steel that mirrored the unrest in Damon Thorne’s veins. From the top floor of Thorne Enterprises, he stood in silence before the glass wall, watching the lights flicker like distant battles.The media storm. The scandal. The betrayal. Everything he had built was under siege.But this time, he wasn’t alone.Juliette stood beside him, steady with a cane. Her ribs were still healing beneath her coat, and the cut along her cheek had begun to fade, but her spirit showed no cracks. She was still weak but far from broken."The board’s meeting again tomorrow," Damon said with low voice. "Half of them smell blood. They're circling.""Then give them a reason to back off," Juliette replied. "You’ve been ambushed before. But this time, you’re not alone".He turned to her. "And Celeste?"Juliette’s eyes narrowed. "She made a mistake. She took Mason. And now? We won’t stop until everything she built burns".-------------
The hospital room was too white, too quiet, and too sterile to feel real. Damon stood motionless at the door, staring at the fragile figure lying on the bed. Juliette. Pale, unconscious, bruised but alive. That last word echoed in his mind like a prayer, again and again. She was alive.His breath left him in a shaky exhale as he approached every step heavy with guilt, fury, and grief. Machines beeped steadily, marking the rhythm of her heart, a beat that tethered him to sanity. A nurse exited quietly, giving him a soft nod of understanding. He barely noticed.“Juliette,” he whispered, his voice cracking as he sank into the chair beside her bed. He took her hand in his, brushing his thumb across her skin. It felt cold, too cold. “I’m so sorry”.The gunshot still echoed in his ears, the chaos, and the terror; the moment he thought he’d lost everything. And all because of the war he’d waged with Celeste. He had put Juliette in the crosshairs.But this time… this time, it had almost cost h
Rain hammered the city like a war drum, thunder rolling across the sky as if warning of what was to come. In the dim light of his penthouse office, Damon stood motionless, staring at the monitor before him.Security footage looped again and again.There timestamped at 2:17 a.m. was Ethan Cole. Damon’s Chief Financial Officer. His friend. His brother-in-arms since college. Caught entering the restricted archive room, accessing sealed financial records. The same night the confidential files were leaked to the media.Damon paused the footage, jaw clenched, hands shaking.Betrayal never came from enemies. It came from those who knew where you kept the knives.The office door creaked. Evelyn stepped in, her eyes heavy with the weight of what she already knew.“You saw it?” she asked.“I did,” Damon said coldly. “He didn’t even hesitate”.“You want him brought in?”Damon nodded once. “By nightfall. Alone. I want answers before I bury him”.----------------------------------------------------
The air in the suite was suffocating, the silence broken only by Juliette’s shaky breath as she reread the ransom note: Leave Damon Thorne forever, or your son disappears. The ink was smeared at the bottom, smudged by a bloody fingerprint. Her hands trembled. Mason had been missing for less than two hours when it arrived, but Juliette already understood what this was. Not just a kidnapping. It was psychological warfare. And only one woman was twisted enough to orchestrate it. “Celeste”. Her phone buzzed. A withheld number. She didn’t hesitate. “Juliette,” came that venom-laced purr. “Still clinging to hope? I must admit, you’re more predictable than I thought”. “Where is my son?” Juliette snapped, rage barely contained. “Oh, he’s safe. For now,” Celeste said casually. “But that depends on you. Divorce Damon. Disappear. Leave him bleeding in the press and in life. You do that... and the boy lives”. Juliette gripped the edge of the table. “You’ll pay for this”. Celeste’s laug
Rain fell in quiet sheets over the city skyline, casting long shadows against Juliette’s hotel window. She hadn’t returned to the penthouse since the lawsuit went public. Too many eyes. Too many questions. And worst of all, the silence growing between her and Damon.Her phone buzzed. Not Damon. This time, it was the encrypted number she’d been waiting for.She answered.“Juliette Moreau Calloway,” a voice greeted, deep and calm. “Or are you still going by Thorne?”Her breath caught. Only one man ever used that name— Lucian Blake, Damon’s former mentor. A man with secrets deeper than the city’s foundations.“I need your help,” she said, skipping pleasantries.---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------Thirty minutes later, Juliette stepped into a high-rise office draped in old-world wealth. Lucian Blake sat behind a mahogany desk, silver hair immaculate, steel eyes unreadable.“I always knew you had fire,” he said. “Didn’t