جميع فصول : الفصل -الفصل 140

I walked shakily toward the bed, my legs weak as though every nerve inside me had turned traitor. My hands trembled, fingertips still buzzing from the act I had just committed. The laptop screen glowed accusingly from across the room, its light flickering on the polished hardwood floor like an unwelcome spotlight on my crime. The leaks were out. Julian and Sera’s scandal blasted into the public eye with ruthless precision, along with Catherine’s fraudulent dealings, exposed like a rotting carcass dragged into daylight. I sat on the edge of the mattress, my heart drumming wildly against my ribs. The sheets smelled faintly of lavender from the linen spray, but instead of calming me, the scent only made me feel suffocated, trapped. We weren’t even in good terms, Zane and I. Our argument from the night before still echoed in my chest, sharp and bitter. He had told me to lay low, to trust him, to stop meddling. And instead, I had gone behind his back. Again. I wrapped my arms around my

His jaw tightened. The truth dawned on his face, slow but sure. “It was you.” The words weren’t a question. And my silence was the answer he didn’t want but already knew. Zane shut the bedroom door behind him. His footsteps were sharp, deliberate, echoing in the tense silence as though every step was a warning. My heart pounded against my ribs, guilty, frantic, like a trapped bird desperate to escape. I forced myself to sit straighter on the bed, hands knotted in my lap, but when his eyes finally landed on me, I shrank back instinctively. There was fire in his gaze. Not the kind that pulled me in with heat and hunger, but the kind that could scorch everything in its path. “You,” he said, voice low but vibrating with restrained fury. “Tell me you didn’t do it.” My throat tightened. The words lodged there, useless. I wanted to lie, to shake my head, to say something, anything, but my silence betrayed me. Zane laughed, bitter and humorless. “God, Amara. I begged you. I told you not

The glow of the laptop screen burned into my eyes until it felt like the words and images were searing themselves into the back of my skull. I should have shut it down the second Catherine’s face appeared, but I couldn’t. I sat there on the edge of the bed, knees pulled to my chest, the blanket wrapped around me like fragile armor. My body trembled, but I couldn’t look away. Catherine was radiant, poised as a woman who could command a crowd without raising her voice. She stood before a sea of microphones in her immaculate cream suit, pearls at her throat, not a hair out of place. “The Blackwoods have always been a family of strength and tradition,” she said smoothly, her voice carrying through the speakers. “Unfortunately, like many families, we have those who make… questionable decisions. My only concern is for Zane, and for the empire we’ve built together. It saddens me to see certain individuals exploiting his generosity and kindness.” Her lips curved in a small, tragic smile, h

Sleep became a stranger. I stopped counting how many nights I lay awake, staring into the dark corners of the penthouse, listening for footsteps that never came. Every creak of the building settling, every sigh of the wind pressing against the windows, became an intruder in my head. Marcus’s words echoed in my skull on repeat: there’s a traitor in your midst. Who? The question gnawed at me. Leah? Mr. Wade? One of the reporters? Or… worse. I didn’t let myself finish the thought. Zane rarely let staff into the penthouse, and when they did come, it was only to clean—always under his supervision. None of them knew I was here. Which meant the traitor wasn’t outside. It was inside. It was me. Or him. My days began to unravel. I checked the locks three, sometimes four times, circling the rooms like a restless ghost. I would forget where I placed my phone, the cup of tea I made, the documents I meant to review. Sometimes I muttered without realizing, fragments of conversations I wanted to

The penthouse was beginning to feel like a gilded prison. At first, I had told myself that safety mattered more than freedom. That Zane’s walls and locks and the endless height between me and the streets below were necessary shields against whoever was watching me. But the longer I stayed here, the more the silence pressed in. The rooms were too polished, too still. Even the city stretched out beyond the windows like a painting I couldn’t touch. I tried books. I tried wandering from room to room. I tried counting the lines in the marble tiles and the seconds between Zane’s calls when he worked late in his study. None of it dulled the gnawing restlessness inside me. I wasn’t meant to sit idle, waiting for someone else to fight my battles. Which was how I ended up on the phone with Marcus. “I need you to do something for me,” I whispered, curling on the sofa, lowering my voice so Zane wouldn’t hear from the study. “Something important.” Marcus sighed immediately. “Every time you sa