LOGIN"Then ask what you're actually asking." He came close enough that she had to choose to hold her ground or step back. She held her ground. "I'm asking," he said, quieter now, "what you're trying to prove. In that courtroom. Every day." His eyes were on her face. Reading it the way he always had, the way that used to make her feel seen and trapped simultaneously. "You could have settled months ago. You could have gotten more for those families without putting them through a trial. So what is this actually about." She looked at him steadily. "Corporate accountability," she said. "Which you would know about if you'd read the environmental impact assessment that your own scientists buried." "Zoya." "That is my answer, Raiyan." “Is that all? Why didn’t Mr. Moss settle today? Everything was there. There’s no reason to drag this?” She also knew this. In fact she had wanted to settle today. The terms were reasonable. The victims would have been compensated. She had been ready.
The call had come at eight-fifteen.“Zoya, it’s back on,” Adrian had said. “The settlement meeting. You asked them to push it once already — now they’re asking for tonight. Mr. Mansoor requested it personally.” Zoya hadn't answered immediately. That was the first mistake she made without realizing it. She had been in the middle of putting Raiyana to bed, half her hair still damp, glasses on, no intention of going anywhere. Joseph had taken one look at her face when the phone rang and said nothing. Just went to sit with Raiyana while she listened to Adrian explain that the Mansoor legal team had requested an emergency settlement meeting. Tonight. She said fine. She hadn't even dried her hair. Zoya grabbed her bag, her glasses, the first outfit she touched. She was in the car before she'd fully decided to go. The Mansoor Corp building was all glass and cold light at this hour. She walked through
In Switzerland, The lounge at Hotel Baur au Lac was the kind of place that understood discretion the way old money understood everything — quietly, completely, without needing to announce it. Adam was on his second whiskey. Files open on the table in front of him. Three shell company restructurings that needed to be clean before Friday. Zurich was efficient for this — neutral ground, no questions, excellent whiskey. He had been here four days and had spoken to approximately six people and intended to keep it that way. He was not paying attention to the couple at the bar — not consciously, at least. Then the woman’s voice cut through the low murmur of the lounge. Not loud. Just — sharp. The sound of someone trying to keep something contained and losing. He looked up. The man had her wrist. Thick fingers. The grip of someone who had done this before and had never bee
"Then ask what you're actually asking." He came close enough that she had to choose to hold her ground or step back. She held her ground. "I'm asking," he said, quieter now, "what you're trying to prove. In that courtroom. Every day." His eyes were on her face. Reading it the way he always had, the way that used to make her feel seen and trapped simultaneously. "You could have settled months ago. You could have gotten more for those families without putting them through a trial. So what is this actually about." She looked at him steadily. "Corporate accountability," she said. "Which you would know about if you'd read the environmental impact assessment that your own scientists buried." "Zoya." "That is my answer, Raiyan." “Is that all? Why didn’t Mr. Moss settle today? Everything was there. There’s no reason to drag this?” She also knew this. In fact she had wanted to settle today. The terms were reasonable. The victims would have been compensated. She had been ready. She loo
She dropped Riyana at Joseph’s at seven forty. Riyana had opinions about this. She communicated them clearly, at volume, in the elevator, and then again at the front door, and then one final time as Melissa appeared in the doorway and Riyana immediately forgot every grievance she had and walked inside without looking back. Zoya stood at the door for one second. Then she got back in the car. Forty-first floor. Eight fourteen. Alan at the elevator doors registered her arrival. “The geologist confirmed for Thursday,” he said, falling into step beside her. “Good.” “Harrison filed a motion to extend the exhibit submission deadline.” “Denied. I filed the opposition at six this morning.” She turned the corner. “What else?” “Mrs Katherine Hale wants to see you.” She did not break stride. “Why?” “Not sure.” “I will find her.” She did not find her immediately. She went to her desk first. ⸻ The exhibit chain was where she had left it. Alan had added three new
The site visit was scheduled for two hours. It ran three and a half. Not because anything went wrong. Because Amirah kept asking questions. Not performing questions — the kind associates asked to appear engaged, the kind that announced themselves as questions without actually needing answers. Real ones. The kind that required the site manager to go back to his drawings twice and recalculate something he had assumed was settled. Matthew stood slightly apart from the group and watched her work. He had brought her because Raiyan had said bring her and because the Meridian site required someone who could read a compliance gap in a structural brief and she had demonstrated in forty-one slides that she could. That was the reason. He watched her crouch down beside the eastern drainage channel in her good coat — completely unbothered about the good coat — and ask the site manager something that made the man pause for four seconds before answering. He looked at his watch. He looked bac
Zoya finally turned, her glare locked and loaded. But the retort died in her throat. He looked exhausted. There were shadows under his eyes that hadn’t been there before, and his frame looked leaner under his suit. But the way he was looking at the dinner—and then at her—was so raw it made her ch
Joseph answered on the second ring. He didn’t say hello. In their world, a greeting was a wasted breath, especially between two men bound by the same ghost.“Omar.”Omar’s voice was steady, but it wasn’t calm. It was the kind of stillness that happens right before a storm levels a ci
Zoya’s mouth opened.Nothing came out.Not because she didn’t have an answer — she did. It was there, sharp and ready, something she could throw at him and end the conversation cleanly. But she refused to let him see how much the question had landed. He was too close. Close enough that his shadow c
Zoya woke up choking on the same air. The same room. The same slam in her head. Her fingers clenched the sheet so hard her nails hurt, and she still felt his grip on the neckline of her gown even though she was wearing soft lounge fabric now, even though Oxford was quiet, even though the nightmare







