Leah’s POV Monday arrives faster than I expect, dragging me back into the relentless rhythm of work. As I step into the office, the weight of everything—my fractured relationship with Ethan, the unease in my chest whenever Mr. Spencer is near—settles heavily on my shoulders. But I push it down. This is my job. This is what I do. And I refuse to let personal feelings interfere.The morning moves quickly, emails stacking up, tasks piling on. But the moment I see the meeting reminder flash across my screen, my stomach tightens.Conference Room A. 11:00 AM. Campaign Planning with Mr. Spencer.I inhale deeply, straightening my posture. There’s no avoiding him—not when our companies are tied so closely together for this project. And certainly not when I still have a role to fulfill.By the time I step into the conference room, most of the team is already seated. Mr. Spencer is at the head of the long table, his expression unreadable as he scrolls through something on his tablet."Miss Carr
Leah’s POV The moment I step into my office, I know what I have to do. There’s no hesitation, no second-guessing. I grab my phone and dial my father’s number, my hands steady even as my heart pounds.It doesn’t even ring twice before he picks up."Leah," he greets, his voice firm. "What is it?"I exhale sharply. "I’m quitting, Dad."There’s a pause. Then, with absolute authority, he says, "No, you’re not."A humorless laugh escapes me. "Yes, I am. I’m done. I can’t do this anymore.""You can’t do what anymore?" His voice is dangerously low, the way it gets when he’s reining in his temper. "Your job? Your responsibilities? The project you agreed to oversee?""The torture," I snap. "Because that’s what this is. Working under you, working with him, constantly pretending I don’t feel like I’m suffocating. I’ve tried, Dad. I’ve tried to be the perfect daughter, the obedient businesswoman who falls in line with your plans, but I’m done trying.""You are being emotional," he states, as if t
Leah’s POV I slip into the driver’s seat, fingers gripping the steering wheel so tightly that my knuckles turn white. The car feels like a lifeline, an anchor in a sea of chaos. The engine roars to life beneath me, and for a split second, I’m caught in the rhythm of it—the deep hum, the smooth vibration of the car’s power. But that moment of calm is fleeting. As soon as I pull out of the parking lot, the weight of everything presses in on me again. The building shrinks in my rearview mirror, but I don’t feel lighter. I don’t feel free. I feel exhausted.The pressure in my chest hasn’t lessened. It’s suffocating—the kind of pressure you get from holding your breath too long, as if at any moment, something will crack. A shiver runs through me, not from the cold, but from the sheer force of what I just did. I should be relieved, right? I should feel like a weight’s been lifted. But right now, I only feel hollow.I press the button on the steering wheel and dial Cece’s number. My thumb h
Leah's POVCece pulls me into a tight hug, her arms around me like she’s trying to hold me together, and I close my eyes, letting her comfort me for just a moment."You deserve this, Leah," she says, her voice steady but warm. "Don’t let guilt creep in. Just… enjoy it."I pull away with a soft laugh, the sound unsteady. "I’ll try. Even though I just disobeyed my dad for the first time ever."Cece gives a short laugh. "Hey. This is the good type of rebellion. He’s got to understand that you’re human, that you’ve got feelings too. And if this is the only way he learns, then so be it."I pull her into a tighter hug, my chest tightening with something I can’t quite explain. Tears spring to my eyes, and I don’t fight them. "I didn’t realize how much I needed to hear that."We pull apart just as my phone vibrates from the nightstand. The name on the screen makes my stomach twist into knots.My father.I let the call ring out, watching the screen until it fades into silence. Cece glances at
Leah’s POVAs the plane ascends, I should feel something—relief, excitement, maybe even peace. Instead, all I feel is the weight of everything I left behind pressing down on me, thick and suffocating.The city below shrinks, becoming nothing but a blur of lights and shadows. My past is down there—my father, Dwight, Ethan, my job, my entire life. I should feel free now that it’s all behind me, but I don’t.Even in the spacious comfort of my first-class seat, I can’t relax. I shift, adjusting the plush blanket over my lap, but it doesn’t help. My mind won’t stop racing, won’t stop replaying every moment that led me here.A flight attendant stops beside me, her polite smile unwavering. “Ms. Carrington, would you like anything? A drink, perhaps? Some coffee?”I put on a little bit of smile, I shake my head, barely looking at her. “No, thank you.”She nods, stepping away without another word.I watch her disappear down the aisle, her movements fluid and practiced, attending to other passen
Dwight’s POVThe sound of the phone call ending echoes in my ears long after the line goes silent.The silence in my office feels suffocating, as if the air has thickened and I’m struggling to breathe through it. I should’ve known she was serious when she stopped answering my calls. That wasn’t the first time, after all. But this—this feels different. Her voice was steady, sure of herself. The decision had already been made. And for the first time, I wonder if maybe I have just made the biggest mistake of my life.I stand up, pacing in circles. What the hell is happening?The last thing I had expected was the outburst in the conference room. She had sounded angry, frustrated, and hurt.I didn't realize how deeply the hurt of our breakup ran until this afternoon. Until her little rant.I rub my eyes, trying to focus. I didn’t even ask where she was. She doesn’t owe me that anymore. Hell, she probably doesn’t owe me anything at all. But the thought gnaws at me, and I can’t shake it. Whe
Dwight POV I slam my hands against the steering wheel, frustration bubbling up like a pressure cooker ready to explode. The receptionist’s indifferent smile still echoes in my mind, mocking me. Leah’s gone. She’s really gone.I pull out my phone, my fingers shaking as I dial the number I’ve only used in the most desperate of situations. The line rings twice before a low, gravelly voice answers.“Parker,” the detective says, his tone immediately shifting to that of someone who knows business is about to get serious.“Parker, it’s Dwight. I need you to track someone. Now.”There’s a pause. “Who?”“Leah Carrington. I need to know everything—where she is, where she’s going, when she’s going. I can’t let her disappear. Not like this.”I can almost hear Parker’s raised eyebrow on the other end. “You’re sure about this? You know what it means when you start digging into someone’s personal life, Dwight. You sure you want to go this far?”I close my eyes, feeling the weight of my own decision
Felix POVI step out of my office, my hands clasped behind my back as I make my way toward Judith’s desk. The rhythmic clicking of keyboards and the low hum of conversation filter through the hall, the usual signs of a well-run business in motion. The air is crisp, the temperature perfectly regulated, just as I prefer. Everything around me is controlled, efficient, predictable.But the nagging unease in my chest tells me that one thing—one person—is slipping out of my grasp.Judith looks up as I approach, her posture straightening, ever the professional. She knows I don’t walk out of my office without purpose.“Any word from Leah?”She exhales softly, shaking her head as she glances at the screen in front of her. “No, sir. I’ve tried calling, texting—nothing. It’s unlike her not to respond.”Unlike her indeed.Leah has never been one to ignore my calls. Even if she was occupied, she would acknowledge them—send a brief text, a voicemail, something. She understands the importance of com
Leah's POVAva arrived a little after ten, a paper bag swinging in her arm, her oversized sunglasses perched on her nose like she owned the world.“I brought croissants,” she announced, kicking off her shoes the minute she stepped in.I was already seated on the couch in Dwight’s minimalist living room, my laptop open and a mug of chamomile tea cooling beside me. The events of the night before still shimmered around me like mist I couldn’t shake off. That kiss from this morning. The feeling of his mouth on mine. The way my body had leaned into him like it remembered every inch of his touch.But I shoved the thoughts aside and forced a smile.“Thank God. I was starting to feel faint.”“Dramatic much?” Ava chuckled and flopped down beside me. She was more carefree here... more herself. “So, you’re really working from home today? What’s going on? You, sick?”I hesitated, then nodded. “Yeah. A little under the weather. Just didn’t feel up to going in.”Ava didn’t question it. That was the
Leah’s POVI woke up to sunlight streaming in through unfamiliar blinds. For a moment, I wasn’t sure where I was—until the memory of the night before came crashing back like waves against a jagged shore.The guest room.Dwight’s house.The black sedan parked outside my penthouse window.Calling him in a moment of panic.And him showing up—like some kind of storm-worn knight—eyes blazing, arms steady, voice calm while I all but fell apart.I turned in bed and stared at the ceiling, trying to process everything. The feeling of safety in this room was real, almost too real—like I might wake up again in my own bed and find it was all a dream. But this wasn’t a dream. I was really here, in Dwight’s home. The man I once loved, the man I had planned to marry, the man who’d disappeared from my life and somehow returned in the most unexpected way.And last night… God. I buried my face in the pillow as the memory of him stepping into the room, finding me in nothing but matching silky pants and
Ethan’s POVI had waited long enough.The thug hadn’t needed to say anything more after confirming she’d been at Glimmr all day. I knew. Of course I knew. It wasn’t about the damn jewelry company—it never was. That place belonged to Dwight Spencer, not Jordan. Jordan was a poser, a face, a pawn. Dwight was the real deal. And Leah had run straight into his arms the moment I slipped up. The moment she thought I was no longer good enough.So I sat in the black sedan I’d taken off the thug—an unremarkable thing, dull paint and barely legal tints—and I watched. Parked just across from Leah’s high-rise penthouse, angled perfectly toward her bedroom window, I waited like a man starved. The plan had been simple: wait until she fell asleep, sneak in, take her away.She was mine. Leah was always mine. Her heart, her body, her damn smile—I’d built my whole world around her. And she threw it all away. For what? For a man who disappeared for years and then reappeared with money and power?The thou
CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED AND ELEVEN Leah’s POVI stood in the middle of the guest room, my fingers idly grazing the edge of the dresser, trying to take it all in. The place didn’t feel real—at least not in the sense that it belonged to someone I used to love. It was too modern, too polished. A sleek contrast to the chaotic mess my mind had become.Dwight had shown me around with the precision of someone trying not to linger too long. The kitchen, the alarm system, the espresso machine I’d probably never use, and then the guest room—with fresh linens and my favorite scent diffused lightly into the air like he’d somehow known I’d be here tonight.I was alone now. The soft sound of his retreating footsteps had long faded down the hall. But the space still felt charged, like something invisible tethered us together. I exhaled slowly and glanced around again. The room was beautiful. Minimalistic yet warm. Soft beiges and greys. A plush area rug. It felt like him. It also felt safe. And that al
Dwight's POVThe moment I hang up Leah’s call, I’m already halfway out the door.I don’t think. I just move.The city blurs past as I tear through the streets like a man possessed. I don't care how many traffic laws I break or how many horns blare at me in protest. Leah is scared—and for good reason. And I'm not going to waste another damn second.I should’ve pushed harder today at the office. I knew something was wrong. The way she sat through that meeting, eyes vacant, her usual fire smothered under whatever weight she was carrying. I told myself to keep my distance, told myself it wasn’t my place anymore after she insisted she was fine.Maybe I was just a stupid coward who was afraid of digging deeper.And now here I am, racing through the night because a car was parked too long outside her window and she’s scared out of her mind.The last time this happened, it was me being hunted. Stalked. Dragged into the dark.And now they’ve moved on to her.I clench my jaw so tight it aches.
Dwight's POV The moment I hang up Leah’s call, I’m already halfway out the door.I don’t think. I just move.The city blurs past as I tear through the streets like a man possessed. I don't care how many traffic laws I break or how many horns blare at me in protest. Leah is scared—and for good reason. And I'm not going to waste another damn second.I should’ve pushed harder today at the office. I knew something was wrong. The way she sat through that meeting, eyes vacant, her usual fire smothered under whatever weight she was carrying. I told myself to keep my distance, told myself it wasn’t my place anymore after she insisted she was fine.Maybe I was just a stupid coward who was afraid of digging deeper.And now here I am, racing through the night because a car was parked too long outside her window and she’s scared out of her mind.The last time this happened, it was me being hunted. Stalked. Dragged into the dark.And now they’ve moved on to her.I clench my jaw so tight it aches.
Leah’s POVI grip the steering wheel tighter as the sun begins its descent behind the high-rises, casting long shadows over the glassy cityscape. The air conditioning hums softly in my Audi, a dull contrast to the static buzzing in my head. It’s been there all day—ever since I kicked Ethan out of my penthouse the night before. I should feel relieved. I should feel strong for finally standing up for myself. But I don’t. I feel haunted. Every part of me is still strung tight, like a violin wound too far past its pitch. I haven’t told anyone what happened. Not dad, not the driver who picks me up sometimes. Not even Dwight. Especially not Dwight. The memory of his hand brushing the loose strand of hair from my cheek keeps replaying in my head like a quiet whisper. I’d leaned into the touch—God help me, I’d wanted to. There’d been nothing romantic about it, not really, not in the way it should’ve been. But something about the softness, the moment of tenderness in an otherwise col
DWIGHT POVShe’s not herself.I knew it the moment she walked into the conference room. Leah always carried herself with a kind of self-assured grace, even when she was fuming, even when her eyes flashed with the heat of an argument. But today… she looked like a version of herself that had been dimmed. Her blouse was slightly wrinkled—unlike her. Her makeup, though minimal, didn’t quite conceal the shadows under her eyes. And the way she kept staring at the same spot on the table like she could bore a hole through it? Yeah, something was off.I told myself not to care. Reminded myself of the promises I’d made in Greece—to keep my distance, to let her do her job, and to stop letting my feelings cloud my judgment. But logic only goes so far when emotion’s been given a seat at the table.She barely said a word throughout the meeting. Gave vague nods, offered clipped feedback, and didn’t catch even one of Jordan’s exaggerated eye rolls. That, more than anything, told me something was wron
Leah’s POVThe elevator dings softly, and I step out into the quiet hallway of my penthouse building, heels echoing against the marble as I move toward my door. I’m already unfastening the clasp on my bag, mentally sorting through everything I need to do before tomorrow’s pitch—until I see him.Ethan.Leaning against the wall opposite my door like he belongs there.There’s an immediate chill. My stomach knots before I even speak. His presence here, at my home, makes the air feel tighter.It’s like déjà vu—Greece. That morning I’d stepped out and found Dwight waiting, his expression unreadable, his eyes full of history. But this isn’t the same. Dwight’s presence had brought calm, uncertainty maybe, but not fear. Not this dread pulsing beneath my ribs.“What are you doing here?” I ask, keys frozen in my hand.Ethan straightens, and I get a better look at him. His shirt is wrinkled and half-untucked, the collar spotted with something dark—coffee maybe, or liquor. His hair is a mess, stic