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
Felix POVI sit behind my desk, fingers tapping lightly against the polished mahogany surface as I wait. The air in my office feels heavier than usual, the silence pressing in around me. The minutes stretch longer than they should. I know I’m being irrational—this is a simple matter, a minor inconvenience—but something about Leah’s unresponsiveness gnaws at me.Then, finally, the phone on my desk buzzes. Judith.I pick it up immediately. “What did they find?”Her voice is calm, efficient as always. “Mr. Carrington, the men checked the penthouse. Leah is not there.”I exhale slowly, tension ebbing, but not disappearing entirely. “Did they find anything unusual?”“No signs of forced entry, no disturbances. The apartment is intact. However, from what they observed, it appears that she left willingly. They couldn’t determine when she would return.”A pause.“I see,” I say, leaning back in my chair.This is not the worst news I could have received. At least I know she hasn’t been abducted.
(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