.************************(Aliana’s POV)********************** Two Days Ago.The sound of fork scraping plates, voices rising and falling like waves, and the occasional burst of laughter from a crowded booth in the corner. The smell of roasted garlic and buttery bread filled the air. But my plate sat in front of me untouched, the pasta cooling with every passing minute.The restaurant buzzed around me in its grandeur.I teased the pasta with my fork, not getting the taste of the glass of wine I sipped from. My focus was half on my phone and half on the growing knot of anxiety that had become my permanent shadow these days.I was supposed to be happy or at least pretend be to.Mack's victory as the CEO had left the whole city talking and Liam had been labelled a coward for not showing up on that day. And if he was angry, it somehow always landed back to me.I played with my food as I carved a line through the tomato sauce. I needed something that would take my min
********************************Claire's POV****************The ride to the top floor with the elevator was silent except for the steady hum of the motor. I stood beside Mack, our hands interlocked as his grip tightened. He glanced at me, his face curved into a smile, a quick reminder that we've just achieved what we've been fighting for. He looked straight ahead, a sharp glint in his eyes, a quiet storm brewing under his cool exterior.He wasn't nervous.He wasn't guiltyHe was ready.This—this power, this place—was exactly where Mackenzie Allister belonged.The elevator dinged, and the doors slid open to reveal the executive floor. Polished floors gleamed. Sunlight spilled through the glass walls. And every head turned to glance at us like a slow, reverent wave.Mack strode forward with me at his side, his hand still on mine__ a silent reminder: You're my wife now.The executives lined up, waiting. There was a moment’s hesitation, the kind bred from fear and respect tangled togethe
[The real battle starts after a war is won]**********************Claire's POV**************************The sun slanted through the floor-to-ceiling windows, casting long golden stripes across the office. I sat curled up on the couch; a thick folder of contracts sat abandoned in my lap. Mack stood across the room, hunched over his desk, scanning emails on his phone.I watched him quietly, letting the peaceful hum of the city below soak into my bones. For the first time in a long time, it felt like we could finally breathe.But peace never lasted long in our world.Mack's phone buzzed sharply, cutting through the silence like a blade. He stiffened, and his body language changed instantly. I sat upright, my heart skipped a beat.He glanced at his phone, he read the message once. TwiceHis jaw tightened, and his grip on his tightened. His eyes burned with anger."What is it?" I asked. Already aware that whatever it was, it wasn't good.He didn't respond right away. He set the phone down
*****************************Etian's POV********************The night had been brutal. Restless. My mind refused to shut down, rerunning that damn rooftop footage over and over like some broken record. By the time morning clawed its way through my blinds, I was already on my second cup of black coffee, staring at the laptop screen with bloodshot eyes.Something was off.I felt it in my bones.Sadie hadn’t just fallen.Someone wanted it to look that way.I leaned back in the battered chair, rubbing a hand over my face. The grainy footage played again—Sadie standing at the edge, hair whipping in the wind, the city lights blurring behind her. Then, in the next frame—nothing. Just air and darkness.No struggle. No second guessing. No clear jump. No goodbye.Only a missing dot connected too neatly, too perfectly."Who are you protecting, Sadie?" I muttered under my breath.My new apartment felt suffocatingly still. I shoved back from the chair, pulled on my jacket, and slid the flash driv
[Flashback]*************************Liam's POV************************I sat at the head of a long polished table; the room was dark, lit only by the cold, sterile glow of multiple monitors. The room was surrounded by screens displaying streams of data, video feeds, and images _ each one a thread in a web I'd carefully woven. My fingers hovered over the keyboard, but I didn't type. My eyes were fixed on the largest screen in front of me, where the rooftop footage of Sadie's death flickered in slow motion and paused at the critical moment.It has been two days since the incident, and yet, every time I replayed the footage, it felt like it was happening all over again: The image of her standing at the edge of the rooftop, her silhouette framed by the city lights, was burned into my mind.Sadie had trusted me. And I'd failed her.But that didn’t matter now. She was gone, and what was left was a mess—a mess that I needed to bury.I took a deep breath, exhaling slowly
*****************************Mack''s POV*******************The morning sunlight slanted through the apartment’s windows, casting pale stripes across the floorboards. Dust floated in the air, catching the light like the place had been holding its breath all night long.Claire sat curled up on the worn couch, my hoodie swallowing her frame. Her hair was messy, her face bare of any makeup, and still — even like this — there was something quietly fierce about her. A fighter’s stubbornness simmered just under the surface.I leaned against the kitchen counter, sipping from a chipped mug. My eyes never really left Claire's, even when I told myself they should. Watching Claire had become a habit, the kind I didn’t even notice forming until it was too late to stop."You don't have to hover," Claire said, breaking the silence without looking at me. Her voice carried a dry, teasing lilt."I'm not hovering," I lied easily, shifting my weight and crossing my arms. "I'm strategically supervising,
********************Liam's POV****************************The warehouse smelled like old metal and secrets.I stood at the centre of it all, my hands tucked inside my pockets, watching the glow of a dozen monitors flickering against the dark wall. Each screen showed a different feed: traffic cams, security systems, building blueprints, and access logs. Information flowed around me, a current I controlled with a surgeon's precision.In a corner, hunched over keyboards and monitors, three of my best techs worked in near silence, the rapid tapping of keys the only sound besides the occasional hum of cooling fans. They were young — barely out of college — but hungry for money and direction. I gave them both.I walked past them slowly, scanning the lines of code being written and the files being manipulated. They were almost done. Another hour, maybe two, and the narrative i needed would be perfect.Evidence was a funny thing. It didn’t have to be true — it only had to be convincing.I s
*************************Etian's POV************************The city never really slept. It just toned itself down at night, humming low like it was trying to act innocent. I wasn’t buying it. I knew exactly what was hidden underneath.Pulling my jacket tighter, I headed up the broken sidewalk toward an old rundown building off 7th Avenue — the kind of place that reeked of mildew and bad choices.But it was where my contact said the package would be.Inside, a single overhead bulb flickered and buzzed like it was on its last legs.The guy behind the counter didn’t even bother glancing up from his beat-up laptop."Name?" the guy asked, his voice dull and bored."Etian," I said.Without lifting his eyes, he slid a small manila envelope across the counter.Cash passed between us — fast, no fuss.I didn’t hang around.Out in the alley, I ripped the envelope open with stiff, impatient fingers.Inside: a lone USB drive, a few blurry copies of what looked like security access logs... and on
*************************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