Se connecterLyara’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 breathe. Adrian. Downstairs. Now. After five years, no calls, no warnings, just his name dropping into my office like a bomb.I didn’t look up from the contract. Couldn’t. If I moved, Heather would hear it in my voice. The ink bled into the paper where the pen stopped, a dark, ugly blot spreading across the clause I’d just been reading.“Adrian Cross,” Heather repeated, slower this time. Like I hadn’t heard. Like she knew I needed it said twice to make it real.I paused. My pulse was suddenly loud in my ears, thudding against my throat. The blot kept growing. I stared at it until it burned into my vision.Then I forced the pen to move again. Sharp, deliberate. I finished signing my name with a fl
Adrian POV.The door groaned when I pushed it open. Hours of silence had made the hinges stiff. Hours of sitting in that room, staring at the ceiling, had made my throat feel like sandpaper.“Adrian?”Claire was on me before I took two steps into the hallway. Her arms locked around my middle, tight enough that I felt the tremor in her shoulders. She smelled like vanilla and salt. She’d been crying again. “I’m sorry,” she whispered into my shirt. “For yesterday. I shouldn’t have—”“Stop.” The word came out harsher than I meant it to. I pulled back just enough to look at her. Red eyes. Swollen lips. She looked ten years younger and ten years older at the same time. “It’s fine,” I said. “None of it was your fault.” Her brow furrowed. “But I said—”“You said what was true,” I ran a hand down my face. “Every word. It hurts because it’s true.” She flinched. She stepped back and eyed me, her gaze dragging from my shoes to the knot of my tie. “You’re dressed. You’re going to the of
Lyara’s POV.The van screeched to a stop three seconds before the Phantom did. Doors flew open. Two guards in black suits moved fast, scanning the entrance, positioning themselves on either side of the glass doors.I didn’t tell them to move that fast. But I wasn’t about to stop them either.Heather opened my door. “Ready?”I smoothed the black silk over my thighs, adjusted the gold belt, and stepped out.The moment my heel hit the pavement, I squared my shoulders.This is it. No turning back now.The glass doors slid open with a soft hiss. I stepped onto the ground floor of Ashworth Heights.And the room changed. Conversations died mid-sentence. Phones lowered. Eyes lifted.Heads turned.“Who’s she?” “Look at Heather behind her. That’s Ethan’s PA.” “Then she’s got to be—”“Ethan’s fiancée,” I finished in my head.The whispers started the second my heels hit the marble. Low at first, then spreading fast.A girl near reception, barely twenty, leaned to her coworker. Emma. Her n
Ethan's POV.The door opened before I even heard the click.I was still leaning against the hallway wall, phone in hand, pretending to check emails so I wouldn’t look like I was waiting. But I was waiting. Then she stepped out.My brain short-circuited for a full three seconds.Lyara.Not Lia from the corner store. Not the woman in faded hoodies who fell asleep with baby wipes in her hair. This was Lyara Ashworth Lane.The dress was black. Silk, maybe. It clung to her in all the right places without being vulgar. Sleeves stopped just above her elbows. The neckline was clean, professional, but it did nothing to hide the fact that she looked like she owned every room she walked into. A thin gold belt cinched her waist. Heels. Low, but sharp.Her hair was pulled back, smooth, exposing the line of her jaw. No makeup except a hint of something on her lips. She didn’t need it.She moved like she’d been doing this for years. Back straight. Chin up. Footsteps quiet but deliberate. Every ste
Lyara's POV.[The Next Morning]Sunlight was cutting through the curtains when I woke up. Late. Too late. My phone said 9:47. I never slept past eight, not since Leo was born.Panic fluttered in my chest for half a second before I remembered. We're around Ethan, so someone's definitely taking care of Leo already. So, nothing scheduled except trying to keep my life from falling apart.I pushed myself out of bed, hair a mess, mouth dry. The smell of warm milk and cereal hit me before I even reached the living room.Ethan was there. On the floor, leaning against the couch with Leo on his lap, a tiny spoon in his hand. Leo’s face was smeared with banana, his eyes wide with concentration as he tried to grab the spoon back.“Morning,” Ethan said when he saw me. His voice was light. Too light. Like last night hadn’t happened. Like he hadn’t walked away with that look on his face. He smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Sleep well? You were out. I guess the flight caught up with you.”I n
Ethan’s voice was still in the air behind me, low and steady, trying to pull a stubborn mule out of a ditch. Me. I was the mule.“You’re not thinking about this clearly, Lyara,” he said, leaning forward on the arm of the couch. “The shareholders don’t need a ghost. They need a face. They need to know the Ashworth president is here, alive, and not hiding behind legal documents.”“They need someone to blame,” I said. My voice came out flatter than I wanted. “And I’m convenient. You saw the emails. ‘Why is an outsider controlling Ashworth Height?’ Outsider. Like I was born in the wrong womb on purpose.”“It’s not about blame,” Ethan said. He ran a hand through his hair, messing up the careful part. “It’s about control. If you show up, you take the narrative back. Right now, you’re a rumor. Rumors get ugly.”Ugly.The word hit something raw. I’d spent five years being a rumor. Rumors didn’t get to me anymore. What got to me was the idea of Leo’s name being dragged through it with me.I s







