Chapter nine

(Aurora Hayes' POV)

The glow of the screen casts eerie shadows across the dimly lit study, illuminating the tension carved into Enzo Klaus's face. His fingers tightened around his phone, jaw clenching as he stared at the headline that sent a slow burn of rage curling in my chest.

"Tech Enzo Klaus Returns With Mysterious Woman and Child."

Below it, a photograph—a stolen moment. Me, stepping out of the airport with Zeo sleeping soundly against my chest, his tiny frame shielded beneath my coat. They had blurred my face, but it wasn’t enough. Not enough to stop the whispers. Not enough to stop the digging. Not enough to stop the inevitable storm brewing around me.

I let the phone slip from my grasp onto the polished wood of the desk, exhaling slowly through my nose. The scent of aged bourbon lingered in the air, mixing with the faint crackle of the fireplace, but nothing could dull the sharp edge of fury in my veins.

"They had no right." My voice was quiet, but it was honed to a blade's precision.

No, they didn’t.

I pulled out my phone, fingers moving with the certainty of someone who had already decided the outcome of a war before the first battle had even begun. I had spent years behind bars while the world twisted my story into something I had no control over. But not this time.

This time, I was pulling the strings.

The call connected, and the voice on the other end was smooth—like aged whiskey laced with venom.

"Aurora Hayes. Now this is a surprise."

"Kill the story," I commanded, wasting no time. "Erase every mention of me and my daughter. Focus solely on Enzo's return."

A slow, knowing laugh followed. "You don’t waste time, do you?"

"Never have," I answered, my voice was colder than before. Prison had stripped me of patience, of second chances.

The woman I was now wasn’t reclaiming her life.

I was taking it back with a vengeance.

The line hesitated. I leaned in, voice dropping lower, razor-sharp. "You owe me, Monica."

"That was years ago—"

"Do you want your investors to find out how you avoided bankruptcy?" My words were ice, cutting and merciless.

Across the room, Enzo shot me a glance, but I barely acknowledged it. I was watching as Monica hesitated, calculating, weighing her options.

The silence stretched. And then—

"Fine. But this is the last favor I owe you."

I smiled. Slow. Sharp. "Until the next one."

The call ended.

Enzo let out a low breath, shaking his head with something that was both admiration and unease. "You just killed a media firestorm in under ten minutes."

I leaned back, gaze steady. "People in power play dirty," I murmured, lifting my wineglass to the firelight. The deep crimson shimmered like fresh blood. "So do I."

A slow smile tugged at Enzo’s lips. "You’re full of surprises."

I met his gaze, unwavering. "You have no idea."

But he did.

He had seen it from the moment I walked out of that prison. The fire in my eyes, the steel in my spine. I wasn’t the same woman I was years ago.

That night, after checking on Zeo—pressing gentle kisses to my daughter’s forehead, inhaling the sweet, familiar scent of her hair—I joined Enzo and Leo in the mansion’s private lounge.

The fire crackled low, shadows shifting along the walls. Enzo poured two glasses of cabernet, the weight of unspoken words settling between us like an impending storm.

"You handled that well," he admitted, sinking into the leather chair across from me. "But this isn’t over. The media won’t back off for long."

"They won’t," I agreed, rolling the stem of my glass between my fingers. "That’s why we take control of the story before they do."

His expression darkened, protectiveness flashing in his eyes. "We’re trying to protect Zeo, not put a target on her back."

I met his gaze, my voice firm. "And we will. But Blackwood organisation? They’re a different story."

A slow realization dawned on his expression. He turned to Enzo, eyes narrowing. "She’s been planning this, hasn’t she?"

Enzo didn’t answer. He didn’t have to.

I leaned forward, voice steady. "Blackwood's south Sector project. They’re months behind schedule. Their investors are getting nervous. If I pull the right strings, they lose confidence—and their stock takes a hit."

Enzo exhaled, shaking his head. "That’s bold."

"It’s necessary." My grip on the glass tightened. "They stole years from me. I won’t let them take anything more."

The weight of my words settled between us, pressing against the air like the first crackle of thunder before a storm.

Enzo studied me carefully, the firelight casting shadows across his face. "You’re not the same woman I knew back then." His voice was quiet, thoughtful. "Hell, you’re not even the same woman I knew last week."

I smiled—a slow, deadly curve of my lips. "No."

I lifted my gaze, locking eyes with Enzo.

"I’m stronger. Smarter. And I’m not afraid to burn it all down."

His mouth twitched, that dark amusement flickering in his gaze. "Now you’re speaking my language."

Enzo let out a low chuckle, shaking his head. "And I love that." He lifted his glass in a quiet toast. "I’m with you all the way."

Before I could respond, my phone vibrated against the table.

The moment my eyes flicked to the screen, my body went still.

I leaned forward, reading the message as Enzo did.

We need to talk. Urgent.

I didn’t miss the way my breath slowed, the way that familiar, dangerous glint sparked in my eyes.

"What is it?" Enzo asked.

I didn’t answer right away. Instead, I lifted my phone, dialing with steady fingers. The line connected, and my voice came out ice-cold.

"You have information for me?"

A pause.

And then—

"Yes. But it’s worse than we thought."

The room shifted. The air thickened.

The game had begun.

I glanced at Enzo.

It was time.

Time to strike. Time to make the first move.

And this time, I was the one pulling the strings.