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Chapter 3. Smoke and mirrors
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2025-09-17 09:46:17.
By Eleven-thirty I was back, downtown, I walk absent mindedly into Cross Development’s board room. He stood at the head of the table, immaculate in a charcoal grey suit today. “Alvarez,” he greeted, eyes sharp. “ How is your Dad?” “ He is fine” I mummured, surprised he bothered to remember. “ Why the gloomy look?” He said rhetorically, Just when I thought he cared, he roared, “Convince me last night wasn’t a fluke.” I roll my inner eyes before i launched into data and strategy, my slides snapping to life on the big screen. Halfway through, Zane interrupted. “What if transparency backfires, what’s your contingency?” “Then we lean into accountability,” I said. “Mistakes acknowledged before the headlines write themselves.” His lips curved, not quite the approval, nor mockery. “Not bad.” When the meeting dispersed, Neha caught my arm. “He’s testing you. Don’t get cocky, Cross burns agencies for sport.” I swallowed hard, nodding, fully aware he coud do that if provoked. The weight of the responsibility on me suddenly became crushing. When I got to the office, I stayed on after everyone had left. I needed to work to distract myself from my dark thoughts. I continued brainstorming other strategies more in line with Zane Cross’s armor theory. If Zane wanted armour, I was going to bring the whole armory. By seven-thirty, Caleb popped his head in,with a broody look. “Go home,” he said. “You look like you're avoiding something with a powerpoint.” “I think it’s working?” “Only for psychopaths.” he softened. “Congrats, I heard you did well today, he can be a bully though, do not let him sow seeds of doubts.” “I won’t.” “Good. Because you don't need the pitch you're working on. If he smells blood, he’ll attack like a shark.” When he left, the room felt too big, the city too loud. I packed up and decided to go home, to my Dad and Mum. I was shocked to see Ethan when I got home. He was with my mom in the kitchen chatting away while she gave him a taste of everything she cooked, they looked like mother and son. He moved like someone who belonged here, and for a moment, it hurt. He’d been my person once, through finals, through silly heartbreaks, through late night pizza runs. We hadn’t ended in flames, just… distance. His job had pulled him across the country, and my career had rooted me here. We’d promised to try, but the miles had stretched thin threads until they snapped quietly. What was he doing playing house here, I wondered. Now, watching him laugh with my mother, I wondered what might have been if geography had been kinder. Priya, was already in my parent’s home waiting for me. She was ever the mischief-maker as usual. She caught my gaze and arched an eyebrow. I pretended to examine a soup ladle like it was the most fascinating object on Earth. When dinner was ready, Ethan helped Dad to the table, his hand gentle on my father’s shoulder. My chest tightened unexpectedly. The conversation was light. Stories about Dad’s stubbornness, Mom’s infamous over-salting incident, Ethan’s travels. He’d been in South America on a photo assignment, capturing wildlife and weathering land slides. His stories sparkled with danger and humor, adventure and even I couldn’t help but laugh. Afterwards, he excused himself with a promise to check in tomorrow. When the door closed behind him, the apartment felt emptier than it had ten minutes ago. “I see someone day dreaming” Priye had caught me red handed. “He’s just… familiar,” I muttered, trying to get into something more comfortable. “Familiar isn’t a bad thing.” “Familiar can also be a trap.” She rolled onto her stomach. “Still, he’s hotter than your memories made him, isn’t he?” I threw a pillow at her, and she squealed. I padded back to the kitchen for tea, expecting Mom to be cleaning up. Instead, she was waiting, hands clasped, eyes sparkling like she’d hidden a secret. “Mom?” I asked cautiously. She lowered her voice like the walls might gossip. “I invited Ethan for dinner tomorrow again.” I blinked. “Why?” “He’s been so kind, coming to the hospital, helping with your dad. It’s just dinner, cariño.” “Mom…” She grinned, unrepentant. “Don’t act surprised. You two were good together, thats a model son-in-law.” I opened my mouth to protest, but Dad called for Mum in the living room and as she swept past me, she noted they were running short on groceries and asked if i could help out with that. I ofcourse sprang into action, asking Priya to wait while I quickly drove down. When i got there, close to where I was parked, I heard it, the scrape of hurried footsteps in the service alley along the side of a building. Not the brisk city clip everyone wears like armor, but something smelt off. If I was keen on self preservation I would have walked away but Instead i parked and kept walking towards there, curiosity or my instincts got the beeter of me. The alley was a slab of wet concrete framed by dumpsters and a humming transformer that sounded like a swallowed bee. At the far end, two figures stood in a cave of shadow. One was a broad man in a frayed jacket, posture slouched like life had taken a bite and didn’t bother with napkins. The other was Zane Cross. Of course it was, my eyes widened. I froze so completely that even my lungs waited for permission to breathe. He held an envelope, thick, beige, indecent in how obvious it looked. The jacket man snatched it with a jerk, flipped the flap, thumbed the contents like he knew the weight of cash by instinct. He grunted. Whatever gratitude is on that guy’s menu, it wasn’t tonight. “Same time next week,” the man said, voice sandpaper. “Or I go loud.” My stomach dropped. Go loud? About what? Vued? The latest estate cross development was building? Or something personal? Zane’s reply was so calm I could hear the edges. “You’ll get what you’re owed when I get what I asked for.” Transactional. Controlled. Like he was ordering wine, not bribing a threat. Lightning stitched the sky without thunder, a camera flash from God. For a heartbeat, everything sharpened. The man’s scar, the envelope’s dog-eared corner. The jacket man shoved the envelope inside his coat and shouldered past me on his way out of the alley. He smelled like cigarettes and wet wool and bad decisions. Our eyes met for half a second , mean, assessing, dismissive and then he was gone, swallowed by the street. I should have followed him with my feet. Instead my gaze snapped back to the end of the alley where Zane now stood alone, hands in his pockets like he’d been posing for a portrait the whole time. For a split second, we both lock eyes across the slick concrete. No smirk, no apology. Just the cool, assessing gaze of a man who calculates everything. No flinch. No surprise. He didn’t bother to move toward me, He simply tipped his chin the slightest degree as if to say, “This is why i wanted armor’. The light suddenly went dark as a result of a blown fuse, and in that black beat his outline vanished.
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The billionaire , the ex and the fake fiance. Chapter 3. Smoke and mirrors
.By Eleven-thirty I was back, downtown, I walk absent mindedly into Cross Development’s board room. He stood at the head of the table, immaculate in a charcoal grey suit today.“Alvarez,” he greeted, eyes sharp. “ How is your Dad?” “ He is fine” I mummured, surprised he bothered to remember.“ Why the gloomy look?” He said rhetorically, Just when I thought he cared, he roared, “Convince me last night wasn’t a fluke.”I roll my inner eyes before i launched into data and strategy, my slides snapping to life on the big screen. Halfway through, Zane interrupted. “What if transparency backfires, what’s your contingency?”“Then we lean into accountability,” I said. “Mistakes acknowledged before the headlines write themselves.”His lips curved, not quite the approval, nor mockery. “Not bad.”When the meeting dispersed, Neha caught my arm. “He’s testing you. Don’t get cocky, Cross burns agencies for sport.”I swallowed hard, nodding, full
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