#deal #plan #movement
Ayra stepped into the main house, the thick wooden doors shutting behind her with a solid thud that echoed through the marble-floored foyer. The place was grand in a cold, almost intimidating way. It smelled faintly of cedar, polished stone, and something darker—like secrets sealed into the walls.The chauffeur had been maddeningly polite. So had the housekeeper who greeted her, though Ayra had seen the careful distance in her eyes. It wasn’t scorn. It wasn’t fear. It was something worse—formality born from calculation. Every word felt rehearsed, sterile, as though the entire staff had been instructed to treat her like a piece of delicate glass: fragile but sharp enough to cut.She was already tired of it.The tension from the past week had been eating at her. Lucian’s face kept flashing behind her eyes—wounded, not just angry. It haunted her, stirred something inside her that she didn’t want to name. Guilt. Regret. The unbearable weight of not knowing what expression had been rea
Ayra stepped out of her room and into the waiting car, unaware that in the study of the estate she was headed to, Lucian was watching a slow replay of Leon's interrogation.His eyes were narrowed. Focused. Cold.There was a soft knock on the door and Nico stepped in quietly.“Boss,” Nico said, his voice measured, cautious. “We’ve confirmed something… new. Regarding Ayra.”Lucian didn’t bother to face him. “Speak.”Nico hesitated for a second, then tapped the screen. “She contacted Pedro. About three weeks ago; before her entanglement with Leon.”Lucian looked up slowly, his expression unreadable. His gaze dropped to the screen Nico offered him. A clear digital log: encrypted texts, a timestamp, a location match. Ayra had gone to Pedro’s quarters, masked as a visit to one of the Russo family’s lower-tier businesses—a flower boutique in name, but in truth, a front for illicit negotiations and the selling of secrets. But before that she'd placed a call to him. Lucian’s jaw tensed. “Ped
The room was dim, the cold stone walls echoing with Leon's ragged breaths and the soft drip of water from a leak somewhere in the ceiling. The air smelled of iron and mildew, and the only light came from a low-hanging bulb that cast harsh shadows on his swollen face. Blood pooled at the corner of his mouth, and his wrists were shackled tightly to the arms of the iron chair, leaving angry red marks on his skin.Lucian stood in the corner, dressed immaculately in black, his arms folded. His eyes, however, betrayed his calm exterior. They were alight with cold fury. This wasn’t just about betrayal anymore. It was about humiliation. It was about Ayra.A man in gloves approached Leon and backhanded him, snapping his head to the side. Leon groaned, coughing up blood, but the blow seemed to wake him."Are you ready to talk?" Lucian asked, his voice low and dangerous.Leon coughed again and gave a pitiful chuckle. "I should’ve known you’d find out.""You should’ve known a lot of things."L
“It wasn’t just a breeze,” he growled. “It cost me a deal. Do you understand that? A military contract that would’ve locked Wendell advances out of the eastern corridor. Gone. Because the magnate’s people think I can’t manage my ‘home.’ Because of your little stunt.”Ayra’s lips parted slightly, confusion flickering in her eyes. “I—no one was supposed to take it seriously. It was just—”“Oh, it was just a joke?” Lucian cut in coldly. “Just harmless fun? You have no idea the kind of world I move in, do you?”Her confusion curdled into anger. “You’re acting like I sold your secrets to some enemy or something.”“You might as well have!” he thundered. “You handed them a sword and begged them to stab me with it.”“You’re exaggerating,” she snapped, standing now. “No one lost a deal because of me.”Lucian’s laugh was humorless. “You think everyone lives in your little bubble of salons and gossip? These men see one headline and decide whether you're a liability. You don’t get second chances.
The car turned into the underground garage of Lucian’s estate. As they stepped into the elevator, Lucian turned back to Nico.“Any updates on the Wendells directly?”Nico nodded, pulling up a map of the city. “That’s the second thing I needed to tell you. Our people have intercepted multiple Wendell operatives trying to enter the city covertly. Most were turned back or disappeared. Someone is blocking them.”Lucian’s brow furrowed. “Who?”“We don’t know,” Nico admitted. “It’s not us. The barrier is invisible but effective—almost as though someone else is protecting the city’s perimeter.”Lucian’s gaze hardened. “Ferdinand?”“That’s our best guess,” Nico agreed. “The timing matches. His security details have grown tighter. And more interestingly… he seems to be at odds with Elena.”Lucian folded his arms. “Explain.”Nico pulled up two separate surveillance feeds. One showed Elena meeting with a council member—alone. The other showed Ferdinand arguing with two old-money allies near the
Then, like a jagged fault line cracking beneath their feet, the dream changed again.Darkness began to seep into the sky. The stars vanished. The air thickened with heat. Not summer warmth—but suffocating, acrid smoke.Lucian turned to Isa—she was still smiling, but her skin was pale now, too pale. Her fingers slipped from his wrist. Her mouth opened to say something, but no sound came.A roar broke through the night.Gunshots.Screaming.Flames surged behind them, devouring the estate, clawing up the walls like beasts unchained.“ISA!” Lucian shouted, standing, grabbing her hand—but she was slipping from his grasp, her eyes wide with panic now.The dream distorted, twisted.He was running.She was pulled from his fingers by a force he couldn’t see.Smoke burned his lungs. The roses were ash. The courtyard was shattered glass and shell casings. Shadows danced between the firelight—men with rifles, yelling commands in a language he didn't understand.He reached out, again and again—but
Later that night Lucian sat motionless in his seat, his fingers steepled before his mouth, eyes staring straight ahead but seeing little of the cabin around him. His phone buzzed again, another notification, another echo of the damage.The headlines had finally stopped screaming. But the sting lingered, seared into him like a wound beneath his ribs.Affair. Cuckolded. A wife he never announced, now the punchline to a viral joke.He’d lost the deal. That much he could tolerate. Business came and went. Fortunes shifted like sand dunes; he could pivot and recover. He always did. What curdled inside him was something far deeper—visceral, bitter, and unshakable.Ayra.Her name was a weight pressing against his spine. She hadn’t just gone too far. She’d violated something private. The images Nico had shown him—her stepping out onto the balcony looking smug and half-dressed after Leon left, her laughter in the café, the casual intimacy of their walks—were burned into his mind with acidic cla
The silence gnawed at Ayra.For all her careful orchestration—for the balcony appearances with tousled hair and artful smudges of lipstick, for the planted photographs handed to Nico, for the media blitz that followed—Lucian had yet to respond. No message. No confrontation. No fury.No presence.Ayra wandered through the silent halls of the manor like a ghost in her own haunting. It had been two days since she fed the flames of the scandal herself, tipping the scales and watching Lucian’s pristine, untouchable image buckle under the weight of betrayal. It had spread like wildfire—first, the hushed reveal of their secret marriage, then the carefully timed photos of her supposed affair with Leon. The media had eaten it up, ravenous for every scandalous morsel.The silence that followed was not relief.It was strange, like waiting for an earthquake after watching the ground crack beneath her feet. She expected retaliation, the burn of his fury, maybe even for Lucian to return and demand
He set the envelope down, fingers tightening against the edges. "You’re playing a dangerous game," he murmured.Ayra tilted her head. "Am I?"He didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he leaned back, assessing her with a careful, measured look. "What exactly are you trying to accomplish here?"She smiled, but there was no warmth behind it. "That’s for Lucian to figure out, isn’t it?"A beat of silence. Then:"You want me to do something with this."Ayra reached for her wine glass again, swirling the liquid absently. "I want it to be known," she said simply. "I want the world to talk."Nico exhaled, setting the envelope down as if it were something poisonous. "You do realize that if I take this to him, you’ll regret it?"Ayra’s gaze sharpened."I’ll regret nothing," she said quietly.Another silence stretched between them.Finally, Nico let out a slow, resigned breath. "You really don’t care if he burns everything down over this, do you? And by the way, it's practically impossible for him