Private Jet En Route to Dubai – 3:22 AM Michael Coleman pressed a bloodied handkerchief to his split lip as the jet climbed through turbulent clouds. The G650 shuddered around him, the luxury cabin's warm lighting contrasting with the darkness that enveloped both the sky outside and his prospects. The handcrafted Italian leather seat that had once felt like a throne now seemed to mock him with its opulence. The metallic taste of failure coated his tongue—worse than the blood.He glanced at his reflection in the darkened window—disheveled hair, the purple bloom of a bruise forming along his jawline, the crisp white collar of his bespoke shirt stained crimson. He barely recognized himself. Just twelve hours ago, he had stood at the podium at Coleman Corp headquarters, assuring shareholders that the SEC investigation was "a minor administrative review." Six hours ago, he had been in his corner office, watching as federal agents seized servers and hard drives. Three hours ago, he had s
Alex POV“No, no, no…” I laughed hysterically as I watched the sad look on my doctor's face as she delivered the news. “It’s impossible, doctor. It just can't.” I told her, trying hard not to believe her words.Clutching my now empty stomach, I shook my head trying to block out her words. ‘I'm so sorry, Mrs. Coleman. We did everything we could.’ she'd just say. “Mrs. Coleman,” she began. “I'm sorr–”“No, don't tell me one of those sentimental bullshit because I refuse to believe your lies, I felt her k…kick this morning!” My voice cracked. “He was right there. My little baby boy was right here, IN HERE!” I pointed to my stomach. The nurse poked her head in from behind the doctor. “Do you need anything Mrs. Coleman?”“I need my baby!” I screamed at the top of my lungs, throwing her a pillow from where I sat. “Bring my baby to me. P…please.” “I'm sorry but he's gone.” She said. A guttural scream tore out from my throat as I collapsed on the bed, my body shaking with uncontrollable s
Alex POVI cried and cried non stop till my eyes were all red and swollen. I had gone to my safe haven which was a small beautiful garden deep into the vastness of the hundreds of apple trees orchids planted. No one comes here since I had instructed them not to. I come here only whenever I am feeling down. The reason was this place seems to brighten up my mood, make me happy and yet the scents of the bright flowers and the comforting sunlight is doing nothing to brighten up the dark storm over my heart. I felt betrayed. Angry.And maybe foolish, and stupid and dumb. And many more worthless names I wish to call myself but don't know them. "Stupid, stupid, stupid," I chanted to myself, hitting my head with my palm. "How could I have been so blind?"All the signs had been there. The late-night calls he’d take in his office, the lingering glances between him and Maria at company events, the way he’d suddenly become “busy” whenever I tried to plan anything together."He never loved y
Alex POV I had slept in the garden for the night. I wasn't sure when I just dozed off but it was the best sleep ever. Even better than anything the Manor could offer. Although it was plagued with the words of Michael, and Maria, yet it was still peaceful and great. Brushing off leaves from my clothes, I made my way back to the Manor, hoping to pack my things before anyone woke up.But when I opened the door to my room, Margaret was there, tears streaming down her wrinkled face."Oh, Mrs. Coleman..." she rushed towards me. "I'm so sorry. I'm so, so sorry...""Margaret-""I should have told you," she sobbed, wringing her hands. "About Mr. Coleman and... and that woman. But I thought... I thought if you knew while in the hospital..."I pulled the elderly woman into a hug. "It's okay, Margaret. You were protecting me.""I saw everything," she whispered. "For the past few days, I watched that snake slither her way into this house. Into your marriage. The way she'd come when you were awa
Alex POV My body ached all through the morning as I packed my clothes and every one of my belongings which wasn't all that much as I left back the things that Michael had bought for out of ‘Love’. A divorce letter had later come in around noon by the lawyer which I had signed without much of a second thought or any fuss. I really wanted to get out of this hell-hole. I wheeled my suitcase down the flight of stairs feeling exhausted in all ways than one. I caught Maria's figure waiting for me at the end of the stairs. Oh great. I thought trying to push down the rise of anger her presence filled me with. "Well, well, well," Her voice echoed through the foyer. "The lawyer just told me you signed the papers already. No fight at all? How disappointing."I kept walking, my grip tightening on my suitcase handle."What's wrong, Alex? Cat got your tongue?" She stepped in front of me, blocking my path. "I expected at least some drama. Some tears. A begging scene maybe?"I moved to step aro
Five Years LaterAlex POV"And with these projections, we estimate a 35% increase in revenue by the fourth quarter," I concluded, clicking to the final slide of my presentation.There was silence in the boardroom of Lane International's New York headquarters. Twenty pairs of eyes looked at the data on the screen, some narrowing in calculation, others expanding in amazement."These numbers from Hong Kong," Thomas Bennett, one of the senior board members, leaned forward. "They're impressive, Ms. Lane. Your branch has outperformed every projection we had."I allowed myself a small smile. I'd dropped the Coleman name the day I left for Hong Kong, reclaiming my maiden name along with my identity. "Thank you, Mr. Bennett. My team deserves most of the credit.""Don't be modest," Alyssa Li, our CFO, interjected. "The Hong Kong transformation has your fingerprints all over it. Which is why we're all eager to hear your proposal for the US expansion.""Before we move to that," Richard Maxwell, a
Alex POV I woke up early with everywhere still quiet. Like always, I reached for the empty side of the bed, which was Griffin's spot since he didn't like sleeping in his room after some dream he had. I stood up and walked to the balcony of my penthouse. The lights from nearby buildings twinkled like stars against the dark morning sky. The sky looked beautiful, painted in soft shades of blue and pink. I could hear my son Griffin talking and laughing with Mrs. Barrett, our nanny, downstairs. Their voices made me feel warm. The sound of pots and pans clanking in the kitchen meant breakfast was on the way. My hot coffee sat next to my bed - black, no sugar, just the way I needed it to face another challenging day. I'd been awake since 2 AM before eventually dozing off, reading business reports and checking markets, trying to figure out what to do next. The Coleman problem kept bothering me, like a splinter I couldn't remove. Every time I thought about it, my stomach tigh
Michael POV Morning light cut across my desk, warming the mahogany surface I'd been staring at since dawn. Below my window, New York stirred to life, car horns, voices, the pulse of the city I'd always called home. And yet my so-called home is starting to crumble before my very eyes with my company, my sweat and everything going down the drain. I traced my finger along the edge of the manila folder in front of me. Another quarter, another loss. The numbers told a story I didn't want to read - our Hong Kong market share dropping month after month, each percentage point a wound inflicted by Lane fucking International. The thought of that name pisses me off beyond normal, but as much as they are poison to us, they are also an antidote to get to the point we need, however, they keep tuning down our request for a meeting without a reason and I'm getting tired. Like what do they want? My company is dying every second I'm here doing nothing but my patience is thinning rather fa
Private Jet En Route to Dubai – 3:22 AM Michael Coleman pressed a bloodied handkerchief to his split lip as the jet climbed through turbulent clouds. The G650 shuddered around him, the luxury cabin's warm lighting contrasting with the darkness that enveloped both the sky outside and his prospects. The handcrafted Italian leather seat that had once felt like a throne now seemed to mock him with its opulence. The metallic taste of failure coated his tongue—worse than the blood.He glanced at his reflection in the darkened window—disheveled hair, the purple bloom of a bruise forming along his jawline, the crisp white collar of his bespoke shirt stained crimson. He barely recognized himself. Just twelve hours ago, he had stood at the podium at Coleman Corp headquarters, assuring shareholders that the SEC investigation was "a minor administrative review." Six hours ago, he had been in his corner office, watching as federal agents seized servers and hard drives. Three hours ago, he had s
Reykjavik Server Farm – Midnight The Arctic wind howled through the open door like a living thing, carrying stinging particles of ice that bit at exposed skin and infiltrated the seams of even the most technical cold-weather gear. Negative fifteen degrees Celsius according to the readout on my watch, though the windchill made it feel much colder. My breath crystallized instantly, hanging in the air before being whipped away by the relentless gale that swept across the barren Icelandic landscape surrounding the facility.James disabled the last security panel with gloved fingers, the specialized equipment he'd brought bypassing the biometric scanner that would have required Maria's fingerprint or retinal pattern. The facility looked innocuous from the outside—a low-slung concrete structure nestled against the side of a dormant volcano, its exterior designed to weather the brutal conditions of an Icelandic winter. Only the satellite dishes and transmission arrays on the roof hinted at
Lane International Safe House – 4:47 PM The brownstone in Brooklyn Heights stood unremarkable among its neighbors, its weathered red brick and black shutters offering no hint of the state-of-the-art security system embedded in its walls or the bulletproof glass behind its vintage-looking windows. The deed was held by a shell corporation owned by another shell corporation, traced through seven layers of legal separation before connecting, tenuously, to a holding company that occasionally did business with Lane International.In security parlance, it was a ghost house. In my world, it was the only place I trusted to keep Griffin safe while the storm raged.Maria's knock came in our childhood rhythm—three quick, two slow. The code we'd used at boarding school in Switzerland when one of us needed saving from a cruel headmistress or a midnight interrogation about broken curfews. A pattern I hadn't heard in fifteen years, not since the night she'd shown up at my Manhattan apartment with a
St. Luke's Hospital – 2:14 AM The heart monitor beeped a steady rhythm as Griffin slept, his small hand bandaged where the IV Michael had tried to force into his vein had torn the skin. The bruising had already begun to bloom in purples and yellows, like a watercolor painting of violence on my son's fragile wrist. His dark curls—so like mine—were matted with sweat against the sterile white pillow, and the overhead fluorescents cast his face in a pallor that made my heart constrict.Outside the room, through the observation window, two NYPD officers in rumpled uniforms took James' statement for what seemed like the hundredth time. Their faces betrayed nothing as they scribbled notes, occasionally glancing at Griffin's sleeping form with the detached sympathy of men who had seen too many children caught in adult crossfire."Third time's the charm," James muttered when he finally joined me, rolling his shoulder where the bullet had grazed him. The bandage was already seeping through wi
Abandoned Airfield – 6:59 PM Twilight had transformed into full darkness by the time we reached the outskirts of the city, the storm intensifying into sheets of water that reduced visibility to mere yards. The windshield wipers of James' SUV worked frantically, barely keeping pace with the deluge. The headlights caught droplets mid-fall, creating an illusion of moving through a tunnel of liquid silver."The signal's coming from inside that hangar," Sally said from the backseat, her face illuminated by the blue glow of her tablet. "The aircraft filed a flight plan for Toronto twenty minutes ago."In the passenger seat, I gripped the door handle so tightly my fingers ached, eyes straining to penetrate the darkness ahead. "Are we sure Griffin's on board? What if Michael separated him from the watch?"James' jaw tightened, his hands steady on the steering wheel despite the torrential conditions. "The biometric monitor shows elevated heart rate and movement. He's there, and he's consciou
Lane International – 3:33 PM Rain lashed against the windows of Lane International's headquarters, transforming the Manhattan skyline into a smeared watercolor of grays and silvers. I'd been in back-to-back meetings since leaving the courtroom, fielding calls from investors concerned about the media coverage of this morning's revelation. Despite the personal victory, stock prices had dipped three percent on news that Lane International's CEO had been involved in a melodramatic custody battle with the CEO of Coleman Corp.The markets hated drama. They hated unpredictability even more.I'd changed from my courtroom attire to a crisp white shirt and black slacks, my armor for the trenches of damage control. My phone hadn't stopped buzzing with messages from Elliott—who was handling press inquiries from Hong Kong—and James, who had taken Griffin for ice cream and then to his therapist to process the morning's revelations.Sally walked beside me as we headed toward the emergency board me
Family Court – 9:17 AM The mahogany doors of Courtroom 302 had always seemed imposing, but today they felt like the entrance to a gladiatorial arena. The morning sunlight streamed through the high windows, casting long rectangles across the polished floor as spectators and attorneys settled into their places with the quiet murmur of those about to witness something momentous.Five years of legal battles, accusations, and counter-accusations had led to this moment. Five years since I'd fled with nothing but the clothes on my back and a secret that had kept me awake every night since.Michael sat at the respondent's table, impeccable in a tailored charcoal suit that probably cost more than most people's monthly rent. His silver hair caught the light, giving him the distinguished appearance that had graced the cover of Fortune just last month. "Businessman of the Year" – a title that made me want to throw my coffee at the newsstand when I saw it.He didn't look at me when I entered, hi
Family Court – 9:03 AMThe Family Court of New York State occupied the sixth floor of a nondescript government building on Lafayette Street, its bland institutional interior at odds with the life-altering decisions rendered daily within its walls. Fluorescent lights buzzed overhead, casting everyone in the unflattering pallor that seemed reserved for places where human suffering was processed with bureaucratic efficiency.I sat with perfect posture on the hard wooden bench outside Courtroom C, Sally on one side, my attorney Evelyn Morris on the other. Three hours earlier, I'd received the court summons—hand-delivered to my apartment by a process server who had the decency to look embarrassed about the 6 AM wake-up call. Two hours earlier, Griffin had been escorted to Elliott's private plane by James and Clara, destination undisclosed even to me. One hour earlier, Maria Coleman had called with the warning I'd been dreading: Michael had the DNA results.Now we waited, the hallway thick
Coleman Corp Labs – 11:47 PMMichael Coleman's footsteps echoed through the sterile corridors of Coleman Corp's research division, the sound ricocheting off white walls and polished floors like gunshots. Security cameras tracked his progress, their red lights blinking in acknowledgment of the CEO's presence, but no security guards intercepted him. Not at this hour. Not when he was radiating the particular brand of controlled fury that had sent three executive assistants into early retirement this year alone.The biotech department—a recent acquisition that had raised eyebrows among board members more comfortable with traditional construction and real estate ventures—was deserted save for the lone technician Michael had summoned personally. Lights flickered to life automatically as he strode through the laboratory, casting harsh shadows across equipment worth millions: centrifuges, sequencers, incubators filled with cellular secrets that represented Coleman Corp's tentative foray into