LOGINThe silence after Selene's words stretched between them like a live wire. Leon stared at her, waiting for the punchline, the reveal that she was joking, testing him, playing another one of her games.But her expression remained steady, serious, almost gentle in its determination."Say something," she said softly.Leon's mouth opened, but no sound came out. His brain was still trying to process what she'd just asked him to do, the sheer audacity of it, the absolute insanity..."What?!" The word exploded out of him, loud enough to make her flinch. "You want me to do THAT?""Keep your voice down." Selene glanced toward the windows as if the walls themselves might be listening. "Leon, please—""Please?" He laughed, the sound bordering on hysterical. "You just asked me to—" He cut himself off, unable to even say it out loud. "Are you insane? Do you have any idea what would happen if—""I know exactly what would happen," she interrupted, her voice calm, measured. Too calm. "That's why it ha
Leon's phone rang at exactly the wrong moment—right as he was reviewing security protocols for the penthouse, making sure Maxwell stayed contained and Rowan stayed protected. He glanced at the screen, saw Selene's name, and almost declined the call.Almost.But something in him—that traitorous, pathetic something he'd tried to bury for nine years now —made him answer."Selene." His voice was deliberately cool. "What do you want?"The sound that came through the line made his blood run cold. A gasp, wet and desperate, followed by what might have been a sob."Leon." Her voice was barely a whisper, trembling and weak. "Please. I need... I can't..."He was on his feet before his brain caught up. "Selene? What's wrong?""Can't breathe properly." Another gasp, more desperate this time. "Something's wrong. Really wrong. I need—please, Leon, I need you to come. Now.""Have you called an ambulance?" He was already grabbing his keys, his jacket, moving toward the door."No! No ambulance." She s
Rowan’s penthouse office was dark when he returned.Not dim. Not soft-lit. Dark. Rowan didn’t turn on the lights immediately. He stood in the doorway, jacket still on, one hand resting against the doorframe, breathing slowly.Maxwell’s voice echoed in his head.Check the footage. May nineteenth. Three p.m.Someone had tried to kill her.His ex-wife.Marcelline's face flashed through his mind—pale and vulnerable in his bed this morning, defiant and angry as she'd slapped him, carefully composed as she'd asked him to leave her alone. Nine years of marriage where he'd been too blind, too focused on building his empire to see what was right in front of him.Rowan crossed the room and finally tapped the wall panel. Lights came on in controlled layers, desk lamps first, then the ceiling. His office came alive in sharp edges: black glass desk, leather chair, screens mounted like silent witnesses.He didn’t sit. He picked up his phone.“Get me my tech team,” he said the moment the call connec
Rowan didn’t remember the drive back to the penthouse.He knew he had driven. He knew the city lights had blurred past the windshield, white and gold and indifferent. He knew the gates had opened, recognized his car, let him through without question.But his mind wasn’t there.It had been circling one name for hours.Maxwell. Why Marcelline? Why not him? Why not his empire? Why reach for the one thing Rowan had already lost?The elevator carried him up in silence. The doors opened to his penthouse and he stepped in. Nothing had changed. And that was the problem.Rowan loosened his cufflinks slowly, deliberately, as though speed might give his thoughts an advantage. He tossed them onto the marble counter, the soft clink echoing too loudly.Behind him, a presence shifted. “Still thinking about him?” Damien Holt asked.Damien didn’t need invitations. He never had. He leaned against the wall near the bar, jacket still on, expression unreadable. The executionist. The man people whispered a
Marcelline stood in the center of her living room, still wearing the clothes to Rowan's maid had picked out. The silence pressed against her ears, broken only by the muted sounds of the city filtering through the floor-to-ceiling windows.He was gone. Rowan had driven away, and she was finally, blessedly alone.So why did the space feel emptier than it should?She shook her head sharply, refusing to follow that line of thinking. This was what she wanted, distance, space, time to process the catastrophic mess of the last twelve hours without his presence complicating everything further.Her reflection caught in the window glass—pale, exhausted, still somehow wearing the ghost of this morning's chaos in the set of her shoulders. She looked haunted."Stop it," she muttered to herself. "You're fine. Everything is fine."The words rang hollow in the empty penthouse.She wasn't doing this today.Rowan Adair had left her life. That was the truth she had chosen, the truth she was holding onto
The elevator doors had barely closed before Selene's composure shattered completely. She sagged against the metal wall, tears running freely down her face now that there was no one left to see them.No one except Leon.He stood in the opposite corner, giving her space, his expression carefully neutral. But she could feel his gaze on her, assessing, calculating, probably judging her for the spectacular mess she'd just made of her life."Don't," she said, her voice raw. "Whatever you're thinking, just don't.""I wasn't going to say anything.""Good." She wiped viciously at her face. "Because I don't need a lecture right now."The elevator descended in tense silence. When the doors finally opened to the parking garage, Leon gestured toward his car—a sleek black sedan, the one he used to pick her yesterday.She slid into the passenger seat without protest, too exhausted to fight anymore. Leon started the engine, and they pulled out into the morning traffic, the city gradually waking up ar







