Dwight’s POVMaya and I step out of the restaurant, and I guide her with my hand on the small of her back. The cool night air does little to settle the unease coiling in my chest. She nudges me with her elbow, smirking."Try not to get lost in your many thoughts while I’m gone, Handsome."I force a chuckle. "I’ll do my best."She had noticed my mood and had not seemed offended or put off by it—she was a real keeper.She makes her way to a white Porsche Panamera, then turns around, leaning against it and facing me. "Even though you were mighty distracted throughout dinner, I quite enjoyed myself with you. You're a real enigma, Mr. Spencer."A woman who doesn’t make a big deal out of a man’s sore mood is a keeper. I’d say she deserves a reward.Maya’s voice dips into a low, sultry tone that sparks interest in me.I step toward her, and without taking my eyes from hers, dip my head low, not missing the way her breath hitches as I brush my lips against her smooth cheek."Is this an okay r
Leah’s POVThe ballroom is bathed in warm golden light, the chandeliers casting a soft glow over the elegantly dressed guests. The hum of conversation blends seamlessly with the classical music playing in the background. It’s the kind of event I’ve attended my entire life—polished, poised, and full of people who pretend to be interested in you while silently assessing how useful you are to them.Ethan and I arrive together, his hand resting at the small of my back as we step into the grand hall. I’m dressed in a midnight-blue gown, my hair swept into a low chignon, while Ethan looks effortlessly sophisticated in his tailored black tux."Remind me why I agreed to this again?" Ethan leans down, murmuring into my ear. His tone is teasing, but I sense the slight edge beneath it."Because my father specifically requested our presence," I reply, offering him a small smile. "And because networking at these events is good for both of us."He sighs but nods. "Right. Networking. Can’t wait."I
Leah’s POV The car is silent. Not the peaceful kind, but the kind that weighs on my chest, making it hard to breathe.Ethan’s hands grip the steering wheel a little too tightly, his jaw clenched as he stares at the road ahead. The tension between us is thick, crackling like a storm about to break.I keep my eyes on the passing city lights, my mind still spinning from everything that happened tonight. Dwight being there. The way Ethan watched me. The way he proposed—if that even counted as a proposal.He finally speaks, his voice controlled but sharp. "You never answered me."I swallow, already knowing where this is going. I fold my hands in my lap, steadying myself before turning to him. "Ethan, you weren’t even ready to propose."His knuckles whiten against the wheel. "What’s that supposed to mean?"I exhale slowly. "You had no ring, no plan. You just said it in the heat of the moment, in the middle of an argument."His grip tightens. "So what? A proposal only counts if there’s a ri
Dwight's POVI should have known she would be there.I should have prepared myself, braced for the inevitable. But no amount of forethought could have truly readied me for seeing her again... with Ethan.Leah.Sometimes, I forget just how entrenched she is in this world. Her father isn't just a businessman—he's a force, a name people respect, fear, and admire in equal measure. Long before I built my own empire, he was already at the top, shaping industries with a single decision.And that fame rubs off on Leah.The way she carries herself tonight, poised and untouchable, is a reminder of that. But I know better. I know the woman beneath the polished exterior—the one who once held my face between her hands and swore she'd always be mine.The moment I see her, something in me locks up, like a tightly coiled spring winding itself tighter.She looks beautiful. Of course, she does. That midnight-blue gown hugs her in all the right ways, her hair swept into a simple, elegant style that only
Leah’s POVThe city is still waking up when I step outside, the air crisp with the lingering chill of dawn. A faint hush settles over the streets, broken only by the occasional passing car. The sun has barely begun its ascent, casting a pale golden glow against the skyscrapers, reflecting off glass windows that stretch high into the sky.It’s too early for most people to be at work, but I don’t care.I need the quiet. The distraction from my own dark thoughts. I need space to breathe.Last night, I hardly slept. My mind wouldn’t stop replaying everything—seeing Dwight at the gala, the weight of his gaze on me, the unspoken tension crackling in the air. And then Ethan. His anger. His accusations. The way he left me there in the middle of the road, watching his car disappear into the night like I was nothing.It stings.Even now, hours later, I can still feel the cold air wrapping around me as I stood alone, stunned, my heart pounding in my ears. I told myself I wouldn’t cry, that I wo
Leah’s POVThe rhythmic clack of heels against the sleek hardwood floor fills the studio, each step deliberate, each stride confident. The models move with practiced ease, their poised expressions betraying nothing but cool professionalism. Some walk with effortless grace, others with a deliberate fierceness, their gazes locked straight ahead as if the world itself is watching.I sit upright, my pen poised over my clipboard, scanning the line of women as they move across the room. Each one is here with a purpose—to prove she belongs, that she’s the right choice for our campaign. Their movements are calculated, their expressions perfected from years of training, yet even in their flawlessness, I search for something more. Something real. Something that feels like it belongs to the brand we’re trying to build.Beside me, Dwight stands with his arms crossed, eyes sharp as he observes each model with a calculating gaze. His presence is infuriatingly steady—controlled, composed, completely
Leah’s POV The meeting with the models wraps up smoothly, final notes jotted down, final decisions hovering in the air. The energy in the room is lighter than before—maybe it’s relief, maybe it’s the satisfaction of progress. Either way, I exhale, finally allowing myself to loosen my grip on the clipboard.Dwight stretches, rolling his shoulders back, his sharp eyes flicking toward me. “We’ve earned a break.”I glance up, surprised. “A break?”“Lunch,” he clarifies. “You need to eat. So do I. And after sitting through hours of models trying to impress us, I think we’ve more than earned it.”Alright.It’s not unusual for Dwight to take control like this, making decisions without waiting for input. Normally, I’d argue, insist I had work to do, that I didn’t need to be treated like some employee he was rewarding.But today?Today, I let him.Because a part of me—a traitorous part—wants to go.Wants to enjoy this moment. There’d been an easy camaraderie between us today, the sort of rapp
Leah’s POV The ride back to the office is thick with silence, pressing in on me from all sides. The warmth from lunch has completely evaporated, replaced by something colder—something I can’t quite name but can feel in the way Dwight’s grip tightens around the steering wheel.I shouldn’t have said anything.Dwight’s eyes stay locked on the road, his jaw tight, his posture rigid. The easy camaraderie we had shared earlier is gone, replaced by an unbearable distance that makes my stomach twist.I shift in my seat, crossing my arms. The tension is suffocating, and I can’t take it anymore.I turn to him. “Are you going to say something, or are we just going to pretend that conversation never happened?”His fingers flex against the steering wheel. “What do you want me to say, Leah?” His voice is calm, but there’s an edge beneath it.I frown. “I don’t know. Maybe anything other than complete avoidance?”He exhales sharply, his knuckles whitening as he grips the wheel. “Why did you tell me?
(Felix’s POV)The moment the call ends, I let out a slow breath and lean back in my chair, pressing my thumb and forefinger against my temples. The tension coiled in my chest begins to unravel, but only slightly. Leah is safe. She’s fine. That should be enough to put my mind at ease.And yet, it isn’t.Because the moment relief settled in, something else took its place. Guilt.I had lashed out the second I knew she was all right. Instead of expressing relief, I questioned her decisions, criticized her choices—like I always do.Like I don’t know any other way to communicate with my own daughter.I rub a hand over my face and sigh. Damn it, Felix.I should have told her I was glad she was okay. I should have told her that I had been worried sick, that my mind had been racing with worst-case scenarios ever since I heard she was gone.But no. Instead, I asked her where the hell she had been. Because anger is easier than fear. Because control is easier than vulnerability.And now, I might
Dwight’s POVThe jet touches down in New York just before dawn. The sky remains a murky shade of blue, the city still shrouded in the last remnants of night. I should be exhausted—I haven't slept in nearly twenty-four hours—but exhaustion isn’t something I have the luxury of feeling.Not when two of my workshops have burned to the ground in a single night.The moment the wheels hit the tarmac, I unbuckle my seatbelt, my jaw clenched so tight it aches. The cabin door swings open, letting in a gust of biting cold air. It does nothing to cool the fury simmering beneath my skin. Without waiting for my driver, I descend the steps swiftly, pulling out my phone as I cross the private runway.Jordan’s name flashes on the screen. I answer immediately.“Tell me.”His voice is sharp, controlled. “The fires were fully extinguished a few hours ago. Both locations are in ruins.”I exhale slowly, my grip tightening around my phone. “Any injuries?”“A few. Some minor burns and smoke inhalation. But n
(Leah’s POV)The phone sits in my palm, the screen illuminated with a single voicemail notification.Dad.My thumb hovers over the play button, hesitating, even though I know I have no choice but to listen. There’s a quiet, sinking feeling in my chest as I prepare myself for what’s coming. My father never leaves voicemails. If he calls and I don’t pick up, he simply moves on—because Felix Carrington does not repeat himself.But this time, he did.I press play.Static crackles for a moment before his voice comes through, deep and controlled, but unmistakably tight."Leah."He pauses."Call me back when you get this."Another pause. A sharp exhale. His next words are quieter, rougher around the edges."I need to know you’re alright."And then, the voicemail ends.I sit there, frozen, the weight of those five words sinking into me. I need to know you’re alright.It’s not an order. Not a command. It’s something else. Something I’m not used to hearing from him.Something close to worry.My
Felix’s POVThe house is silent. Too silent.I sit in the dimly lit study, a half-empty glass of whiskey resting on the desk beside me. The amber liquid catches the glow of the desk lamp, flickering like dying embers, but it does nothing to warm me. Nothing does. Not anymore.The air in here feels stale, the kind of stillness that settles when a place has been left untouched for too long. I don’t remember the last time I had company in this house. Not real company. Not the kind that fills a place with laughter, movement, life.My fingers tighten around the glass. I take a slow sip, the burn of the alcohol cutting through the numbness creeping into my bones. I used to hate whiskey. Now, it keeps me company more than anyone else.I exhale, rubbing a hand over my face, my mind spiraling in one direction, over and over again.Leah.Where is she? Is she safe? Is she thinking about me the way I’m thinking about her?The thought of anything happening to her sends ice through my veins. The ki
Dwight’s POVThe hum of the jet is steady, a low vibration that fills the silence. But Dwight isn’t listening to it. He’s gripping his phone so tightly that his knuckles turn white.Two workshops. Gone.The first call had been bad enough—a fire, a total loss. But the second? That was no accident. He knows it deep in his gut.He leans back in his seat, staring at the glass of whiskey untouched on the table before him. His mind is racing, threading through every possibility, every enemy he’s made over the years.This wasn’t some random misfortune. Someone did this.The problem is, he doesn’t know who.Glimmr has competitors, plenty of them. People who’d love to see him fail, even if they don’t know he’s the one pulling the strings behind the brand. But outright sabotage? Arson? That’s a different level of hostility.And whoever did it made sure there was nothing left behind. No trace. No evidence of arson. No trails.Scrubbed clean.Dwight exhales sharply and presses the call button. He
Ethan’s POV“Is it done?”“Yes, sir.”“Good,” I mutter.The world sees chaos as an accident. A tragic, unfortunate event.I see it as strategy.My glass rests against my lips, the whiskey burning down my throat as I watch the city below. A storm of lights flickers through the skyline, but my mind is elsewhere—on a different kind of fire. One that has already turned a part of Dwight’s empire to ash.I set the glass down with a quiet clink, my pulse steady, my satisfaction quiet but absolute.This moment should feel like victory. And in many ways, it is. The first strike has been made. A calculated, well-executed move that no one will suspect. By morning, the news will break—one of Glimmr’s major workshops, up in flames, reduced to nothing but ash and twisted metal.A tragic accident, they’ll call it.An unfortunate loss.And Dwight?He’ll know better.That’s the beauty of it. No one will point fingers. There will be no investigations, no trails leading back to me. Just whispers. Just u
Dwight’s POVLeah’s words cut through me like a blade, sharp and precise, leaving behind a wound that refuses to close."You never gave me a chance to choose."She’s still looking at me, her eyes burning with hurt, anger, and something else—something unspoken but undeniably there. The weight of it settles in my chest, suffocating, pressing down with the full force of every mistake I’ve made.I rake a hand through my hair, exhaling sharply. I had thought leaving had been the hardest thing I’d ever done. But standing here, seeing the pain my absence caused her, knowing that I was the reason she spent years believing she wasn’t enough—it’s unbearable.And yet, even now, with so much standing between us, I can’t stop looking at her.She’s still the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.The silk of her nightwear clings to her in a way that makes it impossible not to notice every curve, every dip of her body. The soft glow from the lamp casts a warm hue across her skin, highlighting the deli
Leah’s POVThe night drags on, stretching endlessly as I lie in bed, staring at the ceiling. Sleep remains elusive, chased away by the endless cycle of thoughts circling in my head. No matter how much I try to push them away, they keep coming back—Dwight’s words, Cece’s questions, the gnawing uncertainty that refuses to let me rest.I turn onto my side, gripping the sheets. The weight of everything presses down on me. I had spent years believing Dwight had chosen to leave. Years convincing myself that, for some reason, I wasn’t enough to make him stay. And now, with one revelation, the past has been rewritten.I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to slow my racing heart.I had searched for him. After he disappeared, I had called, emailed, even gone to his office. But I had always been met with silence, with a void where he should have been. Eventually, I had stopped searching. I had forced myself to move on.But had I really?If I had, why does it still hurt this much?I exhale sharply and
Leah’s POVThe silence in my hotel room feels heavier now.I sit on the edge of the bed, staring at my phone, but my mind is still caught in the last hour—still replaying Dwight’s words over and over."I was taken, Leah. Held captive. Tortured."I press my palms against my temples, my breathing uneven.Maybe I should take a shower. Maybe that would help calm me. I step into the glass stall and switch on the overhead shower, sighing as the lukewarm water pelts my skin.But even the heady sensation of warm water does nothing to quell the endless thoughts swirling in my head.I don’t know how to process this.I can’t process this.Dwight was taken. Not just gone—not just choosing to leave—but forcibly removed from my life. It’s the kind of revelation that should change everything.And yet, somehow, it changes nothing.So much time has passed. Why did he not reach out? I had been waiting. Hoping. Praying.I'd anticipated his return. Dreamt of it. But I'd never gotten it. Maybe if he had r