Semua Bab under his control : Bab 11 - Bab 20

AVA’S POVThree weeks.That’s how long it had been since Martin Ellison walked out of Liam’s boardroom for the last time.Three weeks since the Carter name clawed its way back into the headlines—not for scandal, but for reform. Transparency. Transformation. They called it the “Carter Correction.” Stocks stabilized. Media softened. Even investors who once doubted Liam were cautiously returning.And I?I had my own office.It's an actual corner one. With windows a skyline and a nameplate on the glass that read:Ava Davis – Director of Strategic PartnershipsYeah. That part made me cry. In the bathroom. Twice.Liam claimed he promoted me because I was “brilliant, decisive, and a terrifying negotiator when sleep-deprived,” but I knew the truth: he trusted me. Not just with his company. With his life.And slowly, very slowly, I was learning to trust myself, too.•••“Your corner office is bigger than mine,” Jenna teased as she walked in one Monday morning with her usual triple-shot espress

AVA’S POVPanic tastes like metal.As the final message blinked across the wall of black screens, my stomach knotted so tight it felt like breathing might break me.“It begins tonight.”The lights in the war room flickered again. I could hear techs outside scrambling—keyboards clacking, voices rising, feet pounding against the floor.The Carter empire wasn’t crumbling.It was imploding.Liam turned to the head of cybersecurity. “Get me eyes on all external data movements. I want every system on lockdown—email, servers, financials, personnel records. If a single byte moves, I want to know where and why.”“Yes, sir,” the woman nodded, already typing frantically on her tablet.“Legal?” he barked into the speakerphone.“We’re getting cease-and-desist letters ready for every outlet. If something leaks—”“If?” I snapped. “Something already has. This isn’t a threat. It’s a strike.”I pulled up the USB drive again, scrolling through the last of the decrypted files from Jenna’s friend. There,

AVA’S POVWe didn’t speak on the drive back to Liam’s penthouse.The car was quiet except for the low hum of the city bleeding through the windows. Outside, people moved in streams, oblivious to the weight that had just dropped onto our lives. The silence between us wasn’t cold. It was heavier than that. It was grief. Grief for a future we’d just started to believe in. Grief for the trust that was once fractured, stitched back together and now threatened again by someone who hadn’t even needed to raise a weapon—just a wire transfer.Liam’s hand was tight around the steering wheel, his jaw clenched so hard I could see the strain in his temple. I reached for him slowly, placing my hand over his. For a second, he didn’t move. But then his fingers uncurled, and he threaded them with mine. That was enough. For now, it had to be.When we stepped into the penthouse, the room was already flooded with phone alerts. The flat screen in the corner displayed a breaking news banner with a photo of

Ava’s POVThe Carter estate was a shadow from another life.We arrived just after midnight, headlights sweeping across the long gravel driveway that cut through overgrown hedges and bare, skeletal trees. The house loomed at the top of the hill like a relic untouched by time—stone walls streaked with moss, tall windows blackened by dust and age, and a front door large enough to suggest royalty once walked through it.It didn’t feel like home.It felt like a tomb.Liam parked beside the crumbling marble fountain and turned off the engine. The silence that followed was thick and absolute. Not even the trees whispered.“This place is abandoned,” I said quietly.“It was sold after my father’s death, but the new owners never stayed. They said it was cursed.” He glanced at me. “And honestly, I think they were right.”We stepped out of the flashlights in hand, boots crunching on gravel. Liam led the way to the back of the house, bypassing the ornate front doors in favor of a rusted side entra

Ava’s POVThe pier was nearly deserted.One lone light flickered overhead, casting silver streaks across the water, which lapped gently against the docks like it was whispering secrets. The night was thick with fog, turning the world into smudged shadows and silhouettes.I kept my coat drawn tight and my phone in my pocket, recording everything. If Lila thought I was walking into this alone and blind, she didn’t know me anymore.Or maybe she never had.She stood near the edge of the pier, facing the water. Her back was to me, her figure wrapped in a long, dark trench coat. She turned only when my boots echoed across the planks.Even in the low light, I could see she’d changed.Her makeup was gone. Her once flawless curls were now tied back roughly as if she hadn’t cared enough to style them. There were shadows under her eyes—exhaustion, maybe. Guilt. Or both.“You came,” she said softly.“You asked me to.”“I wasn’t sure you would.”I stopped three feet away from her. “Start talking.”