Cole's POV
I leaned against the sleek black car parked outside the industrial event hall, watching the last of the guests trickle out. The evening had gone as expected, with handshakes and back-patting from the old guard, a few promising discussions about potential mergers, and, of course, the usual fawning admiration. Everyone wanted a piece of Cole Grayson. Everyone, that is, except Emily Hart. I shoved my hands into my pockets and let out a quiet chuckle, shaking my head. Emily Hart. She hadn’t just ignored my handshake…she’d downright dismissed me, as though I were some insignificant pest. No one had ever treated me like that, not in all my thirty years. “Too full of herself,” I muttered under my breath. “That’s what she is.” But there was something else about her, something that gnawed at the edges of my mind. I couldn’t put my finger on it, but she seemed familiar. The curve of her face, the fire in her eyes when she looked at me…it wasn’t just confidence. It was something personal. I shook the thought away. Maybe she was just intimidated, worried I’d outdo her in the business world. After all, it wasn’t every day you met someone as accomplished as me. I chuckled again, this time louder. … A few hours later. “Mr. Grayson,” my P.A., Daniel, interrupted my thoughts as he approached, his tablet tucked under his arm. “Shall we head back to the hotel?” “Not yet,” I said, glancing at him. “I need you to look into someone for me.” “Of course, sir. Who?” “Emily Hart,” I said, watching his expression carefully. “I want a full background check. Everything…from where she was born to what she studied in school. I want to know what makes her tick.” Daniel nodded, unfazed. He was used to these requests. “I’ll get on it right away, sir.” By the time I returned to my penthouse suite, Daniel had already compiled a file. He handed me his tablet as I sat on the plush leather couch, and I scrolled through the information. “Born and raised in the city,” Daniel began, reciting the details. “Only child. Her mother passed away when she was young, and she’s extremely close to her father, Mr. Richard Hart. She attended Westbridge University for a semester before transferring to Lakeview University, where she graduated top of her class in Business Administration.” “Wait,” I said, narrowing my eyes at the screen. “Westbridge?” “Yes, sir.” I froze, the name hitting me like a bolt of lightning. Westbridge University. That was my university. “Why did she transfer?” I asked, my voice sharper now. “It’s unclear, sir. There’s no official record, but she left after just one semester.” Something tugged at the back of my mind, a memory I couldn’t quite place. “Do we have any photos of her from that time?” Daniel nodded, already swiping through his device. A few seconds later, he handed the tablet back to me. The first photo was of a girl I barely recognized. She was sitting on a bench, her hair in a messy ponytail, her glasses slightly crooked. She wore a simple sweater and jeans, and her smile was small and shy. But those eyes… My breath caught. “Emily…” I whispered, the realization crashing over me. It was her. The nerdy girl who had confessed her feelings to me in front of half the school. The same girl I had humiliated without a second thought. The one who transferred because she couldn’t handle the fallout. “How could I not know?” I muttered, staring at the screen. Daniel raised an eyebrow. “Sir?” “Nothing,” I said quickly, setting the tablet down. But my mind was racing. This Emily Hart was nothing like the girl I remembered. The girl from Westbridge was timid, awkward, and forgettable. But this woman… she was the complete opposite…confident, sharp, and breathtakingly beautiful. And she hated me. It was obvious now why she’d refused my handshake and treated me like a ghost. She hadn’t just recognized me, she’d remembered everything. Every cruel word, every mocking laugh. I leaned back on the couch, letting out a long breath. “Unbelievable.” Daniel glanced at me curiously but didn’t press for details. “Anything else?” I asked, forcing my voice to remain steady. “No, sir,” he said, taking back the tablet. “Shall I continue with the usual reports?” “Yeah,” I said distractedly. “Do that.” As he left the room, I stood and walked to the floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the city. The lights below shimmered like stars, but my mind was elsewhere, replaying fragments of the past. Emily Hart. The same girl I’d dismissed without a second thought. And now, she was the woman who refused to even acknowledge me. I smirked to myself, shaking my head. “Well, this just got interesting.” I slipped my phone out of my pocket, scrolling through my contacts until I found her name: Vanessa. Her smiling face popped up on the screen, the perfect picture of elegance and charm. I hesitated for a moment, my thumb hovering over the call button. She’d probably want to hear about this event, even though she was halfway across the globe, busy launching her new fashion line. Before I could press call, my father’s voice cut through the din of the room. “Cole! Come here for a moment.” I sighed, slipping the phone back into my pocket. “What is it now?” I muttered under my breath, striding toward him. Fast forward thirty minutes, and I was sitting in The Grand Grayson, my father’s elite restaurant, at the table reserved only for the most important guests. Everything about the place screamed wealth, from the soft sound of classical music to the crystal chandeliers. The table was filled with a spread of dishes I barely acknowledged. My father, Nicholas Grayson, sat across from me, looking every bit the composed and calculating businessman he was. His custom suit was perfect, his silver cufflinks glinting under the light as he casually swirled his glass of wine. “This is the best table in the city,” he said, a slight smirk playing on his lips. “Perfect for an important conversation like this.” I raised an eyebrow, already sensing I wouldn’t like where this was going. “What’s this about, Dad?” He leaned back in his chair, his gaze steady on me. “Our future. The company’s future.” I scoffed lightly, picking up my glass of wine and taking a sip. “You mean your plans for the company.” “Exactly,” he replied smoothly, as though my sarcasm didn’t register. “You’ve seen Emily Hart’s impact in the business world, haven’t you? She’s young, successful, and incredibly sharp…a perfect counterpart to you.” The mention of her name made me sit up a little straighter. Emily Hart? What was she to me? I kept my expression neutral, though a faint unease was creeping in. “Our families have a history of friendship,” he continued, his voice calm but deliberate. “Richard Hart and I have been discussing a stronger alliance between our companies. It’s the logical next step.” I narrowed my eyes, setting my glass down. “Alliance?” My father smiled faintly, the kind of smile that usually meant trouble. “Yes, an alliance. Through marriage.” The word hit me like a freight train. My wine caught in my throat, and I choked violently, coughing as I set the glass down with a thud. The rich red liquid sprayed across the pristine white tablecloth, and a nearby server rushed over, dabbing at the mess with a towel. “Marriage?” I croaked, my voice louder than I intended. My heart was pounding, and I wasn’t sure if it was from the wine or what I’d just heard. “Yes,” my father repeated calmly, as if he hadn’t just shattered my world in a single sentence. “To Emily Hart.” For a moment, I just stared at him, unable to comprehend what he was saying. It felt like I’d been sucker-punched, the air knocked out of my lungs. “You can’t be serious,” I finally managed, my voice low but laced with disbelief. “Oh, I’m very serious,” he said, his tone unwavering. “This is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity for both families, Cole. A partnership like this would be monumental.” I blinked, my mind racing as the weight of his words settled in. Emily Hart. Marriage. My pulse thundered in my ears, and I could feel the heat rising to my face. “This is insane,” I said, shaking my head slightly. “Dad, you know I have Vanessa. She’s my fiancée, for crying out loud. Our wedding is in three months!” My father leaned forward, his expression cool and utterly unmoved. “Vanessa is irrelevant in this conversation.” “Irrelevant?” I repeated, my voice rising. “She’s the woman I’m marrying. You can’t just…” He held up a hand, cutting me off with the same authority he’d always wielded over me. “You’ll marry Emily Hart, or you’ll lose everything, Cole. The company, your position, everything. I’ll pass the reins to your cousin, and you can go play house with Vanessa without a single share to your name.” The words hit me like a cold slap to the face. I stared at him, my mouth slightly open, trying to process the threat he’d just issued so casually. “You can’t do that,” I said, though the uncertainty in my voice betrayed me. “I can, and I will,” he said, his tone firm and final. “This isn’t just about you, Cole. It’s about the legacy of this family. Think carefully before you make a decision you’ll regret.” I leaned back in my chair, feeling like the ground had just shifted beneath me. Emily Hart. Marriage. My father’s ultimatum. It was like the universe had decided to throw my life into chaos in one evening. How had everything spiraled so fast?Smith's POV. I didn’t want to come here.I had been putting it off for months. Every time Stevie-lou brought it up, I changed the topic or acted like my phone rang. She never pushed. She just looked at me with those calm eyes, nodded, and said, "Okay. When you're ready."But the truth was, I wasn’t sure I'd ever be ready.Now I was standing on a patch of grass, next to a headstone with the name Raymond Parker carved into it.1969 - 2025.It was a nice headstone. Clean with black granite with gold lettering. There were fresh flowers by the side. A little wooden frame with a picture of him smiling at what looked like a birthday party.I remember that face. That was the same man who came to my office looking like life had chewed him up and spat him back out. He had looked desperate. He had looked broken. He had stood right in front of my desk, holding his cap in his hand like a man holding out hope. And I turned him away like he was nothing.Stevie-lou was kneeling by the grave. Her han
Stevie-lou's POV. I remember the moment they told me I was finally being discharged. Like waking from a long nightmare but still feeling trapped inside it. My legs shook when I tried to stand, and Smith was right there, steady as ever, catching me before I fell.“You don’t have to be a hero today,” he said softly, brushing my hair back from my face. His eyes were tired, but full of something fierce…like he’d been holding it together for both of us.“I just want to go home,” I whispered. My voice cracked, thick with everything I’d been holding in.He nodded and helped me sit up, then carefully hooked my arm around his shoulder as we walked out of the hospital. The quiet buzz of the city outside felt strange, almost like it didn’t belong to me anymore.The ride back to the penthouse was quiet. Smith didn’t say much, just held my hand on the leather seat. I could feel him watching me, his thumb tracing slow circles on my skin, like he was trying to remind me I was real, right there besi
Stevie-lou's POV. Everything hurt.That was the first thing I knew when I opened my eyes. A dull, throbbing pain in my shoulder, like someone had shoved a hot poker through it and decided to leave it there. My head was foggy, my mouth dry, and the light in the room was way too bright. I squinted against it, trying to sit up, but my body protested with every tiny movement.And then I heard him."Easy, baby. Don’t move too much."Smith.His voice cut through the haze, and I turned my head slowly to find him sitting beside my bed. He looked like he hadn’t slept in days. His hair was a mess, his eyes bloodshot, his jaw lined with exhaustion and something deeper...something raw. His hand reached out, brushed a few strands of hair from my face."You’re awake," he breathed, almost like he couldn’t believe it.I blinked at him, my vision sharpening. "Hey..."That one word took all the energy I had. My voice was hoarse, barely there, but it made him smile anyway. And God, that smile. Soft. Ti
Smith's POVThe second his finger twitched, I moved.I wasn’t thinking. I didn’t have the luxury to think. There was no logic, no plan, just raw instinct. My body surged forward before my brain could even register the danger. I lunged at Jeremy, both arms extended, grabbing for the barrel of the gun just as the shot rang out.The sound was deafening...sharp and violent. It tore through the air like an explosion, echoing off the walls and rattling in my skull. It was like a bomb had gone off in a confined space. My ears rang instantly, a high-pitched whine setting in as the immediate aftermath of the blast.Stevie-Lou screamed...a sound so piercing, so full of fear, it cut through everything else.Jeremy fought back, struggling like a man possessed, but I had the element of surprise. He wasn’t expecting me to close the distance so fast. His grip on the gun was sloppy, panicked. His hands trembled, his arms flailed wildly. I latched on tighter, wrapped my hands around his wrist and twis
Stevie-lou's POV.I pulled him closer again, like I couldn’t get enough of his touch, his warmth, his presence. My hands trembled as they roamed over his shoulders, down his back. His lips parted under mine, soft and urgent at the same time, like he’d been starving for this too. I kissed him harder, deeper, as if trying to erase all the distance, the hurt, the time we’d lost.I slid my fingers into his hair, tugging gently, wanting him to know I was here, that I was real...no more walls, no more hiding. I wanted him to see me...the real Stevie-lou, not the lying woman who had betrayed and used him. I reached down, pulling at the hem of my shirt, hoping maybe if I stripped away the last layers of myself, he’d feel like this was all true, all ours.But before I could get the shirt over my head, his hand caught my wrist. Firm but gentle, like he didn’t want to scare me off but had to stop me anyway.“Hey,” he said softly, brushing a strand of hair from my face. His eyes were softer than
Stevie-lou's POV.I stared at the door for a long second after it creaked open, like I couldn’t quite believe what I was seeing.Smith.Tall, stiff, in that dark coat he always wore when he was working. He looked like he’d come straight from barking orders to a boardroom full of terrified execs. Only now, he was standing in my crappy little doorway, his jaw clenched and his eyes everywhere but on me. Like even being here pissed him off, but not enough to walk away.My hand was still on the doorknob. I didn’t say anything.He didn’t either.Just pushed the door wider and walked in. Like it was his place. Like nothing had changed.Like I hadn’t wrecked him."You changed the locks," he muttered, eyeing the new hardware with a frown.My throat dried up. "Yeah."He didn’t answer. Just kept walking in like he was looking for something to be mad about. His eyes scanned the small, crumbling living room. The faded couch with the sagging cushions. The cracked tile near the kitchen entrance. One