85

The ballroom of the Marlowe Hotel had been transformed once again into a resplendent tapestry of silk, crystal, and candlelight. It was a week since the hacking debacle—long enough for the city's upper echelons to have forgotten the previous one that had threatened to topple the Coleman-Hartmann alliance, but not long enough for its ghosts to have vanished. Liana Coleman strode through the double doors in a midnight blue velvet gown that fell to her ankles, the material rustling around her legs like a secret whispered. She paused as strings from the orchestra filled the air, the music pulling an undertone of tension that reverberated within her chest.

Her mother, Ruth, had insisted Liana accompany her as a demonstration of strength. But tonight, beneath the practiced shine of her smile, Liana carried a package of worries: the featureless threat that haunted their family, Leo's sleeplessness, and the glimpse of fear she still felt every time her phone rang in the dead of night. She took a deep breath and crossed the shiny marble floor, through clusters of donors in tuxedos and evening gowns, their laughter as bright as the chandeliers above.

Ruth stood at the edge of the room, greeting guests with polite nods of her head. Liana watched her mother's elegant bearing—tall, smiling, the very picture of social grace. But when a waiter's tray tipped and a glass of champagne was about to be spilled, Ruth's hand trembled infinitesimally as she steadied it. Liana caught the flicker of distress in her mother's eyes and edged over to her.

"Mom," she whispered, slipping an arm around Ruth's waist. "Are you all right?"

Ruth smiled tightly but the stiffness in her shoulders betrayed her. "I'm fine," she said too brightly. "Just the usual gala jitters."

Liana took her away from the crowd to a less crowded corner beneath a fluted column. "You appeared.upset," she said softly. "Talk to me."

Ruth's mask cracked. She leaned in towards her daughter, as if drawing strength from the two of them sitting together. "I just saw Martin Sloan," she admitted, her voice low. "He looked like he'd just seen a ghost."

Liana's heart was racing. "Did he say anything to you?"

Ruth shook her head. "He just pushed past me and muttered something about old enemies emerging from the woodwork." She swallowed hard. "I panicked. For a moment, I thought.maybe it was happening all over again."

Liana slipped her hand into her mother's. "You're safe," she said, though she was shivering with fear too. "I'm here."

Ruth closed her eyes, forehead resting on Liana's temple. "Thank you," she whispered. "Both of you.".

Liana breathed a sigh, stroking a hank of her mother's hair back into place. "You need to get some sleep, then some water," she asserted. As they stepped back out into the great hall, Liana noticed Alexander Cole standing in front of the orchestra pit, his eyes tracking them. His reserved grey eyes now held something that made her heart stutter—concern, perhaps, or curiosity. He took a step back from their gaze, though not before Liana felt the heat of his attention.

A hush fell as the gala's president held up a crystal flute. The toasts began—words of gratitude for charitable vision, paeans to community alliance. The guests raised their glasses, and the string quartet shifted to a waltz. Liana escorted Ruth to a chair beside a high window that looked out over the city lights. She promised to return soon, then dissolved away, moving through curving columns until she found herself in a quiet corner near the bar.

Alexander Cole had crossed to the opposite side of the room. He was also holding his own drink—whiskey on ice—his pose loose in a way Liana had never witnessed outside the boardroom. At the crescendo of the orchestra, he was scanning the audience with effortless charm. Then, as if from habit, his gaze fell to hers. They locked eyes over the crowd, and time suspended.

Heat rushed to her cheeks. Liana raised her glass in a gesture of a question, actually, and Alex nodded his head, providing her with a small, bashful smile. Then he moved back to his drink as if he were embarrassed by how close they were standing.

Liana tucked away her glass and danced between the spinning couples, her pulse thudding in her ears. She felt an overwhelming urge toward him, even as she berated herself—distraction was not allowed now. But when she reached the bar, Alex caught her sleeve.

"Ms. Coleman," he breathed, low enough to be heard by no one. "May I?"

He extended his arm toward the ballroom exit door. She hesitated, then nodded. "I need air."

He guided her through the double doors to a small balcony that overhung the hotel courtyard. The air was crisp, with the distant thrum of traffic and the soft rustle of leaves on the ground. Liana breathed deeply, the scent of damp earth calming her.

Alex looked at her, hands in pockets. "You looked worried in there," he said quietly. "Is everything all right?

Liana swallowed, fighting between defense and honesty. The sparkle of the gala seemed precarious alongside the weight she carried. She met his gaze, releasing the twisted loop in her chest. "I am…afraid," she confessed. "Malachi Voss is still out there. Someone sent me a threatening anonymous letter to mind my own business and stay away from my father's company. I keep expecting another violation—something more."

Her admission sent a shiver through the cold night air. Alex's expression eased, lines of tension smoothing from his forehead. "I had no idea," he whispered. "I thought I was the only one at risk."

She blinked. "You?

He hesitated, gaze sliding away. “My family has…debts. Old allegiances. There are people pressing me to settle scores—people from my own board who won’t hesitate to use underhanded means.” He turned back to her, eyes earnest. “I’ve been fighting fires of my own.”

Liana's heart faltered. For the first time, she glimpsed the man behind the CEO mask—vulnerable, burdened with obligations he couldn't shed easily. "I didn't know," she breathed. "I believed you were invincible."

He chuckled wryly. "Hardly. Power is expensive.".

They stood in polite silence, two people who had run into each other under pressure now bound together by shared fears. The faraway rhythm of the waltz drifted through open doors, mingling with the autumn wind.

Alex pushed a lock of hair back from Liana's forehead. "You trusted me when you shouldn't have."

Liana's throat closed. "I trust you," she whispered.

He took a breath, as if ready to cross more than just the threshold of the balcony. Then, with a sudden shake of his head, he took a step back. "We should go back inside," he said, catching voice. "Before anyone misses us."

She nodded, though wariness spread warmth through her chest. "Yes. Before they send a search party."

They returned to the ball, slipping through doors as the build of the orchestra was gaining height. The ring of dancers disbanded, and Liana caught sight of Ruth sitting in her seat, a dance of relief on her mother's face. Leo beside Ruth caught Liana's eye and gave the barest nod of thanks. Liana flashed a quick look to Alex, and he rewarded her with something like hope.

Internally, the gala remained a lavish production—laughter, music, clinking glass. Liana and Alex were drawn to each other as though strings had them invisibly bound. They sat across from each other at adjacent high-top tables, their very nearness filling the air with a strained energy.

Ruth stood to give a final toast, urging the guests to recommit themselves to the foundation's work. Amidst thunderous applause, Liana touched Alex's sleeve.

"Thanks," she murmured low enough so only he could hear.

He nodded. "Thanks for being honest." His thumb brushed against her hand. It was a promise.

Before long, the gala was winding down. Couples disappeared toward the doors, attendants swept by taking tabletop flowers away. Liana retrieved her wrap from a valet stand; Alex pressed a ticket into her hand for her car.

Outside, the air was chilly but invigorating. Guests poured out into the cool air, scarves and coats billowing. Liana paused at the kerb, collecting herself.

Alex stood beside her, streetlamps casting gentle halos around them. "I'll see you tomorrow at the meeting?" he asked, all business once more.

She smiled—a small, genuine curve. "Yes. Tomorrow." Her heart skipped a beat as she concluded, "Good night, Alex."

He caught her gaze, warm and intent. "Good night, Liana."

She turned and walked towards her car, her footsteps ringing off the pavement. Behind her, Alex remained until she got into the driver's seat and the door closed. Only then did he step away, the street silent once more.

That night, as she rested, she relived the moments of the evening in her head: her mother's troubled face, Alex's concerned look, their shared revelations on the night sky. She was aware that, for the first time in weeks, the weight of her anxieties was not as crushing. She wasn't alone.

Alex sat in his penthouse office, watching the after-action video of the gala—security footage of him and Liana exiting to the balcony. He paused at the photo where she looked fragile, leaning against him for balance. A softness emerged for him in an unusual moment, mixed with the steel of ambition. He closed his laptop with a sharp snap and leaned back, resolve hardening.