LOGINLila:The key felt heavier than it should have when I slid it into the lock. My hand was still shaking from the bar, from the whispers. I pushed the door open and braced myself. The house was dark except for the lamp in the living room. My father was sitting there, newspaper folded on his lap, glass of whiskey sweating on the table beside him. He always worried when I came home late. Always asked questions. Always made me explain why my lipstick was smudged and why I looked like I’d been crying in a cab.Tonight, he didn’t even look up when I closed the door.I waited for it anyway. For “Where were you?” For “What happened to your face?” My eyes were red, swollen. The makeup I’d layered on at the bar hadn’t hidden it. I’d practiced my smile in the bathroom mirror and still looked like a woman who’d lost something.He turned a page. “Did you watch the news this afternoon?” He asked. His voice was flat, like we were discussing the weather. “The most trending news of the year. About the
Lyara:The light outside the windows had gone thin. Not night yet, but the kind of dusk that made the office feel smaller, like the walls were leaning in.The building was quiet now. Most of the staff had left an hour ago. Emma was gone. The cleaning crew wouldn’t come until midnight. Only Heather stayed, hunched over her laptop at the side desk, glasses slipping down her nose as she scrolled through rows of numbers.I stayed too. Not because I wanted to. Because Heather was more than a secretary. She’d been the one holding my hand. The one who taught me how to smile. She stayed because she hated loose ends more than she hated overtime.We were trying to read through the correction files. Page after page of numbers, clauses, footnotes that could ruin us if one comma was in the wrong place. It was too much for a few hours. My eyes burned. But it was better than walking away and pretending it’d fix itself by morning.The door opened and Ethan walked in. His tie was loose, sleeves rolled
Adrian:Silence filled the room like smoke. Thick. Choking. Lyara’s eyes were still fixed on the door Ethan had walked through, like she could burn a hole in it if she stared long enough. Her back was straight, shoulders squared, fingers pressed flat against the edge of that desk.I stood there with my hands at my sides, suit jacket suddenly too tight across my chest. I could hear my own breathing. Too loud. Too fast. I cleared my throat once. The sound bounced off the marble and died.She didn’t turn.Another minute stretched. It felt like an hour. The air in the office was cold, but sweat was building at the back of my neck. I needed her to look at me. Needed something. Anything.“Can I sit?” I asked finally. My voice came out lower than I intended. Careful. Like I was asking permission to exist.Lyara didn’t answer right away. She opened a drawer, shuffled papers, closed it again. When she finally looked up, her eyes passed over me like I was furniture. “Sit.”I sank into the chai
Lyara:The door opened and Heather swept in like she’d just won something. Her iPad glowed against her chest, and that smile; sharp, triumphant, hit me before she even spoke.I didn’t look up. If I looked up, my hands might shake. I kept my eyes on the contract in front of me, pretending the words made sense. They didn’t. My head still buzzed from the press conference, from the second I opened my mouth and said “jewelry line” just to kill the silence after Sarah’s question.Heather stopped beside my desk. Close enough that her perfume hit me like a wall. She didn’t wait for me to acknowledge her. She started reading, thumb scrolling, voice bright like she was reciting praise from an altar.“Finally a designer who isn’t afraid to speak her truth.”“Can’t wait to see the collection—when’s the launch?” “Lyara Vance just redefined class under pressure.” Seven thousand mentions in the last hour. Vance Holdings stock is up 2.4%. Ethan says the team calls it the best damage control we’ve
Lila: The screen inside my car was too bright. Too loud. Lyara’s face filled the whole thing, sharp suit, calm smile, voice steady like she’d rehearsed it for years. “I am a proud single mother of one blessed child. His name is Leo.” My hands went numb on the steering wheel. The takeout bag on the passenger seat was still warm, grease soaking through the paper. I’d gone into the restaurant minutes earlier, starving, thinking food would stop the shaking in my chest. Now the smell of fries made my stomach turn. I couldn’t breathe. The reporter asked about Adrian, and Lyara smiled. The cameras flashed. The crowd murmured. And my chest caved in like someone had kicked it. No. That wasn’t supposed to happen. I fumbled for my phone. Not the one connected to my father’s driver. The other one. The one only Adrian had the number for. My fingers slipped. I dropped it once on the seat, picked it up, and dialed. Ring. Ring. Ring. Voicemail. I hung up and dialed again. Again. Again. Ea
Lyara: Ethan’s jaw clenched so hard his teeth grind at Sarah’s insinuation, but then he drew in a slow breath, let it out through his nose, and when he spoke his voice was steady, like he’d buried the anger under ice. He cut her off before she could finish the sentence. “If you raise false propaganda and frame your statement as an accusation rather than a question, you can be sued,” he said. His tone was calm, but there was steel under it. “And I doubt your company would risk a legal battle against Ashworth Heights just because you are an award-winning journalist. I advise you to tread carefully and choose your words wisely.” Sarah went quiet. Her mouth opened, then closed. For the first time since she stood up, she had nothing immediate to say. “I–” When she did speak again, Ethan cut in before she could form the question. He turned slightly, addressing the room more than her. “Since the day my grandfather adopted Lyara as his daughter,” he said, “I have always seen her as my
Adrian's POV.The lady stopped three feet away. Close enough that I caught the glint of her diamond studs. Close enough that the jasmine became overwhelming.“Take them off, Lyara.” Ethan’s voice was quiet. But it cracked through the silence like a whip.The world tilted.Lyara.The name hit me lik
Adrian's POV.8:17 AM.I wasn’t angry, I had to wait. Anger was clean. Anger made sense. This—this gnawing in my chest, this rehearsing of words that wouldn’t come—was worse.The engine was off. The documents were signed. My signature glowed on the tablet screen, permanent and stupid. Electronic in
Lyara’s POV.The audio file ended with the elevator doors closing.Heather’s voice was clear. Adrian’s was lower, rough around the edges. He sounded tired. He sounded like a man who’d run out of options.I hit pause. Then replay. Then pause again. On the third playthrough, I caught it; the way his
Lyara’s POV.The intercom buzzed twice before Heather’s voice came through, tight. “Adrian Cross is downstairs. No appointment. He’s asking to see you.”The red pen in my hand froze mid-stroke.Shock hit like ice water down my spine. For half a second my chest locked up and I forgot how to breath







