***************************Claire's POV*********************My hands trembled against the mug of tea that burned my palms, unbothered."That's not true," I muttered."She wouldn't have done that," I said quietly again.Mack didn't glance in my direction right away. He stood by the tall window of the penthouse, his arms were folded around his body. His shoulders were tight with tension."Claire.." he said, his voice was soft and low."She wouldn't do that Mack," I said as I shook my head."You don't know her, you don't know what she can do." He said as he finally glanced in my direction."Yes__ I don't know her but Sadie doesn't come as the suicidal one.." I said as I scoffed "That woman can twist things and cause problems. She was all in the game, and you think she would jump like that? The story ain't clear." I said as my throat tightened.Mack walked towards me, slow like a wounded lion. He crouncged in front of the beside me, his hand squeezed my knee gently."They found a note."
************************Mack's POV*************************The news spread like wildfire. The moment it broke, it was like a tidal wave crashed over the company _ everything we've worked on. The company's reputation was at stake.I couldn't let that happen. I couldn't let everything crumble under the weight of the news. It's all over the papers, on the screen, on every broadcast, like a stain that couldn't be scrubbed out.I couldn't allow my family to be dragged down.I knocked on his door. He opened it with a sad look plastered on his face.I stepped inside without saying anything. I notuced the way he flinched at my presence. I could feel the weight of the news as it pressed down on him."You've seen the news?" I asked. My voice was flat, the tension in the air was thick enough to choke someone."Yeah, I've seen the news." He said as he tried his best to sound calm. But there's a flicker in his eyes something ___ I can't get my hands on."They said it was suicide huh?" I asked. M
*************************Liam's POV***********************The city buzzed with the news of Sadie's death. The rumours grew louder; the whispers of suspicion were no longer confined to hushed conversations_ they were everywhere now. The media. The blogs and everyone I had come in contact with had something to say about what happened to Sadie. They'd seen the news. They knew the story_ or at least the version I made them believe.The news plastered everywhere: Mystery Death: Does Is Liam Behind the Tragic Fall?" "Murder or Suicide? "Mystery Death. Who's Hiding the Truth?" The rumours snowballed with each news article. One question dominated everyone's mind: Did Liam do it?I was in the spotlight but not in the way I wanted. It wasn't the mind of the spotlight that made me proud. It wasn't the clean press coverage I'd grown used to. No, this was the kind of spotlight that would change everything I planned. And drag me down.With the CEO election around the corner, the ting was terrible.
*********************Mack's POV**********************As I stepped inside the boardroom, the conversations hushed__ their gazes met mine. The room that was once filled with voices was now silent that I could hear their breathing.Every seat at the long table was occupied, suits crisp, jaws tight, eyes flickered toward the door behind me as if expecting someone.But the footsteps they anticipated didn't follow mine.Liam’s not here.I didn't say anything. It wasn't needed. His absence says enough already. He's a crowd for not showing up on the final day.I dropped my bag as I sat at the centre of the mahogany table."Where's Liam?" Ms.Rutherford__ the boardhead asked."He hasn't been taking his call." Jare,d one of the assistants, chipped in.For three months now, we waited for this day and now? Now he is no way to be found. He must be a coward. I wanted to see his expression when I win___ I wanted to see his arrogant face turn pale. I wanted to see how he would take it. How his mother
[Two Days Ago.]********************************Rowe's POV*****************---I lingered by the study window, surrounded by symbols of my father's authority. The room's grandeur was palpable from the mahogany to the velvet drapes.Liam's voice. Polished. Cold. Hollow. Still echoed in my head from the press conference that ended 20 minutes ago.{I want to make it clear that I am not responsible for Sadie’s death.}He said it like he rehearsed it from a script. Like he was erasing her name in real time."You believe him? I asked.Behind me, my father poured himself a glass of Scotch. Twelve _year. No ice. Business as usual.He didn't respond immediately, the only sound being the clinking glass and the leather armchair's soft groan as he sat."Rowe," he finally said. "Grief plays tricks on the mind. We see what we want to see. Or don't want to see." I turned slowly.There he was__ the pain in his eyes was almost unbearable to witness, a poignant reminder of the human cos
{Back To The Present Day} ***********************Claire's POV****************"*I stood by the window of the conference room, my fingers crossed tightly around my flute, as I watched Mack receive congratulatory backslaps and handshakes from the Board members. His eyes sparkled as he smiled back at them.And now they cheered for him like the golden king.He caught my eye across the room and gave me that smirk__ the one that said we did it. I raised my hand to wave but returned it. I smiled at him.I've always known that he was going to win. He was the acting CEO before Liam thought he could do it better than him hence the election. And today, the devil is nowhere to be found."I think Liam just disappointed his supporters?" He said, his voice was low and laced with satisfaction.“Yeah, he did," I replied, cool and precise. “They should,” I replied, cool and precise."Don't think they will trust him again." "Well, they've got a new CEO to trust, a real on
*****************************"Rowe's POV*******************Airports have always held a strange kind of energy. A restless pulse in the floor tiles, in the artificial breeze of the climate control, in the way voices bounced and echoed through the polished terminals. Even in the private hangar of the smaller charter wing, the air trembled with motion—jets rumbling in the distance, luggage carts clicking across the concrete like distant insects. I stood beneath the cool shadow of a steel support beam, one hand in my coat pocket, the other clutched the thick envelope. The leather folder I held was warm, even through the cardboard. I hadn't let go of it since leaving his father’s house.Outside, the afternoon sun pressed hard against the windows, smearing light over the glossy floor like a pale fire. Inside, everything was clinical—cool steel, blue-grey walls, crisp echoes of footsteps. I hated airports. They were always beginnings or endings, never in-betweens. And today was most definit
************************Liam's POV*************************The house stood still, it's windows like empty eyes staring back. The only sound was the soft ticking of a clock that hung on the wall.The house was too quiet.The kind of quiet that made your thoughts louder, your guilt heavier, your memories too damn sharp. I hadn’t left in weeks—not really. The staff came and went like shadows, never speaking unless spoken to, which suited me fine. I didn’t want to explain myself. Not anymore.I settled into thd old armchair, my gaze fixed on the fire's hypnotic flicker.. Above the mantel, her picture stared back—Sadie, caught mid-laugh in a summer dress, frozen in time just before I lunged on her. She hated that photo. Said she looked too happy, too alive. I’d loved it for exactly that reason.And now it haunted my every waking moment.I was set to face the boardroom today, had prepymy speech choosed a tie that she would have loved and perfected a composed demeanor.But when the car came
*************************Claire's POV***********************The morning sun filtered through the gauzy curtains, casting a soft glow over the living room. I hadn't slept well, nightmares had worsened since the message from the unknown. Neither has Mack, who's trying his best to protect me. I hate the fact that he has to worry so much about me. If i ever get a hold of that son of bitch behind this, I'm so going to kill him.I sat curled up on the soft velvet couch, a steaming mug of tea cradled in my hands. The television murmured in the background, whisking me away from my train of thoughtThe volume was low, but it was the only sound audible in the quiet penthouse. Mack was still asleep and didn't intend to wake him up.I reached out for my tablet as I inspected the market analysis of the company.My phone buzzed on the coffee table, displaying a flurry of messages. I didn't take it. I continued my work on my tablet.My phone buzzed the second time; this time, the message was from L
****************************Liam's POV********************The heavy silence and tension that my father brought still lingered. His words still lingered like smoke, wrapping around my thoughts, burning slowly. I could still feel the ghost of his stare__ sharp, disappointed, final.He said he’d dig quietly. He wouldn’t protect me.But I didn’t need him to.I stood up, my spine stiff, and walked to the cabinet hidden behind the bookshelf. A flick of a concealed latch, a click, and the wood panel slid open, revealing a slim black case nestled in the dark.Inside it were the things I kept for leverage. Not safety. Not protection. Just control.And Aliana's file was at the top.I pulled it free, flipping through crisp pages and glossy prints. Photos. Screenshots. Copies of conversations. Recordings transcribed into neat blocks of text. She’d been clever. Careful. But not perfect. No one ever was.She’d met with Sadie twice—both meetings undocumented, off the record. One of them was the day
***************************Liam's POV**********************The late afternoon sun streamed through the tall windows of my study, casting long streaks of gold across the floor. I lingered by the shelves, idly turning a glass paperweight in my hand, trying to steady the chaos swirling in my mind.It had been weeks since I’d heard from my father, at least, not face-to-face. But the aftermath of Morgan’s visit rippled through everything. The board's tone had subtly shifted, my assistant barely met my eyes today, and conversations always seemed to cut off the moment I walked into a room.The walls were closing in. I could sense it.And then came the knock. Slow. Intentional.I didn't get it right away. I just stared at the door, willing it to stay closed. But it creaked open anyway and there he was, __ Henry__ my father. Impeccably dressed, as always, in a tailored navy suit that did little to mask the exhaustion buried beneath his polished surface."Liam," he called out to me simply, as
******************************Claire's POV******************The company's towering glass structure shimmered under the morning sun, defiant and pristine __ like nothing had happened. Like no one had died. Like our lives hadn't been turned inside out over the last week.I walked into the company's building slowly behind Mack, my heels clicking softly against the polished marble floors, echoing in a rhythm that didn't quite match my heartbeat. It felt wrong to be here.But also..... It felt like I needed to be here.The receptionist stood almost immediately when she saw us, her eyes wide with something between surprise and sympathy.“Mrs. Claire, Mr. Mack,” she greeted as she flashed her perfect dentition in a warm smile.“It’s good to see you both again,” she spurted out.Mack gave her a nod and a warm smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Thanks, Ellen. Good to be back,” he said.We walked past her into the elevator. As soon as the doors closed, I let out a breath I didn’t realise
************************Claire's POV************************The room spun around me; that message __ just one line__ was enough to unravel the last thread of composure I had.**Someone's behind Sadie's death… and the person is closer than you think.**I stared down at my phone's screen, hoping the message might change if I looked long enough. But the words stuck themselves into my brain like a blood tick, repeating again and again like a cursed chant. My hands trembled as I slowly handed kelvin back the phone.His jaw tightened as his expression was dreary."I don't know who sent it. It's an unknown number but I've already forwarded it to Mack." He rasped.I nodded."Thanks," I said. Though my throat had gone dry.He stayed with me for a moment as if he noticed I didn't want to be alone. He looked like he wanted to say something, but then he just turned and left. The door shut with a muted click behind him.I was alone again.I paced around the room like I was a soldier trying to pay
******************************Etian's POV*******************The rain started around the time we hit the intersection out of Aliana’s neighbourhood. Heavy, angry drops pounded against the windshield, smearing the lights of the city into long, distorted streaks. Rowe drove in silence, one hand gripping the wheel tighter than necessary, the other drumming a quiet rhythm against his thigh.I watched the wipers move in a sluggish arc, my mind stuck on Aliana’s face. That first flicker of shock. The way her hand hovered over the folder was like it might burn her. She tried too hard to stay composed—and it only made me trust her less."She's hiding something." I finally said. Breaking the silence.Rowe didn't respond right away. His jaw tightened as he glanced at my direction. “You think she killed Sadie?” he breathed. His voice was low and calm.I couldn't respond. Not yet. My mind was tangled with thoughts already ten miles ahead, racing through every inconsistency we'd gathered."She li
***********************Aliana's POV*************************The door creaked shut behind them, the echo threading through the quiet like a final verdict. I stood still in the kitchen, my fingers clenched around the edge of the counter, my pulse a thunderous rhythm in my ears. The folder they'd brought still lay on the marble island, its presence louder than an argument.Detective Etian __ sort of. Not sure if it was official or not. But enough to knock the breath from my lungs.Rowe__ didn't recognize him at first but the eyes gave him away__same as Sadie's, piercing through me like he's seeing everything in my head.I gave out a heavy breath, as I tried to keep my hands from shaking. I wasn't afraid of them__ at least not exactly. But I was afraid of what they brought along with them. That file. That is fake evidence. Fabricated, yes. But convincing. Too convincing. Whoever did this didn't just want to frame me__ they wanted me buried.I picked up the folder again and flipped it op
************************Etian's POV***********************By the time we pulled into the quiet, upper district neighbourhood__ one of those gated areas that whispered wealth instead of shouting it, the rain had let up. Rowe drove, his hands tight on the wheel, eyes fixed on the winding road ahead. We sat little. There wasn't much left to say.Then, came Aliana's house. A sleek two_story with minimalist lines and pale stone walls, tucked behind manicured hedges and a row of white_blossomed pear trees. It wasn't ostentatious like I'd expected _not the sprawling estate of someone with generational mon, ey__, but it had class. Discretion. Like her.Soft light glowed from narrow vertical windows at the front of the house, casting a calm, welcoming hue. A single matte-black hybrid sedan rested in the driveway—spotless and well-maintained. I instantly noticed the security setup: motion detectors, a front-facing camera, and a digital keypad by the door.“She lives alone?” I asked quietly as
************************Morgan's POV********************* The sun cast a golden hue over the manicured lawn of Henry's estate. The familiar crunch of gravel under my shoes stirred memories of the countless visits, shared cigars, and debates that stretched into the night. It had been years since I'd last walked this path, but here I am this late afternoon because of the weight of the recent events___ which made the distance between us feel even longer. Henry greeted me at the door in a quick hug, his once jet-black hair now peppered with grey, but his posture remained as upright as ever. "Morgan," he said, extending a firm hand. "It's been too long." His lips curved into a smile. "Far too long," I replied, gripping his hand with equal strength. He led me into his study, a room that had always been a sanctuary of sorts. Shelves lined with books, artefacts from our travels, and the ever-present decanter of aged whiskey. He poured us both a glass, and we settled into the leather