chapter eight

(Aurora’s POV)

The silence that followed Paulina's departure wasn’t empty—it was charged. A storm waiting to break. Enzo and I locked eyes, an unspoken language woven through years of survival and shared battle scars.

Someone was outside.

Someone thought they could waltz into our carefully constructed fortress without consequences.

Enzo's entire posture shifted, tension coiling through his muscles like a predator ready to pounce. "Let’s go," he muttered, his voice low, controlled—but beneath it, I sensed the raw edge of danger.

I caught his arm before he could charge ahead, my grip firm. "Wait."

He stiffened. That single word had defused countless fights before, had pulled us both back from recklessness more times than I could count. His jaw clenched, but he didn't shake me off.

"We need to know who it is first," I reasoned. Information was always the deadliest weapon. Charging in blind was for fools—and we were far from fools.

Together, we moved toward the security room, where the air was thick with tension. The room itself was a sleek, high-tech command center, bathed in the eerie glow of countless monitors. Jason, our head of security, was already seated before the screens, his scarred hands hovering over the controls.

He didn't turn as we entered. "Caught something on the perimeter," he grunted, rewinding the footage. "See for yourselves."

The screen flickered, settling on an image of a black sedan parked just beyond the front gates, lurking in the dim glow of the streetlights. The figure inside was alone, but the car’s polished exterior and tinted windows screamed wealth, power…intent.

Enzo leaned in. "Zoom in," he ordered, voice tight.

Jason obeyed, enhancing the image. The driver’s face remained frustratingly blurred, but the moment Enzo recognized the silhouette, he swore under his breath, low and vicious.

"George Dean."

The name sent a slow pulse of irritation through me.

"The cunt?" I asked, though I already knew the answer.

Enzo let out a sharp, humorless laugh. "Like a cockroach—impossible to kill and always lurking in the shadows. He must’ve caught wind of my return and decided to sniff around."

Relief flickered inside me—but it was short-lived. George wasn’t a direct threat, no, but he was dangerous in his own way. He didn’t need facts. He needed only a story, and he would twist reality into something toxic if it meant selling headlines.

Enzo's stance shifted, his anger becoming something solid. He turned sharply toward the door, already storming forward. "I’ll handle it."

"Enzo, wait." I moved faster, stepping in front of him before he could bulldoze his way through this. "That’s exactly what he wants. He’ll get his photo, his soundbite—by morning, there’ll be a sensational headline framing you as some unhinged recluse back from the dead."

His jaw tensed, a muscle ticking beneath his skin. "So what? I’m supposed to let him sit out there and stalk us?"

"No," I said smoothly. "But we need to be smart about this."

Enzo hesitated, and in that moment, I knew I’d won. Frustration simmered beneath his surface, but he followed my lead as we walked to the gates—not storming, not rushing, but composed. Controlled.

George was exactly as I expected—leaned out of his car window, his smirk a carefully crafted mix of arrogance and sleaze. His blazer was unbuttoned, his shirt slightly rumpled, as if he wanted to look effortless but had long since missed the mark.

"Enzo Klaus," he drawled, his smirk widening. "Long time no see. Care to give an exclusive interview about your grand return?"

Enzo's fists clenched at his sides. I saw it in his eyes—the storm, the hurricane threatening to rip through him.

I stepped forward.

"Mr. Dean," I said, my tone cold as steel. "You’re trespassing. This is private property, and you have no legal right to be here."

George barely blinked. "Relax, sweetheart. Public street, remember? I’m just doing my job."

"Loitering with the intent to harass is a crime," I countered, my voice sharper now. "And I’m sure the authorities would love to discuss it with you."

His smirk faltered. Cracked.

Enzo shifted beside me, radiating barely restrained fury. I knew George could feel it—the raw, dangerous energy crackling in the air. And he was smart enough to realize he was playing with fire.

With a reluctant sigh, he started his engine. "This isn’t over," he muttered.

I smiled, slow and deliberate. "Goodbye, Mr. Dean."

I turned on my heel before he could finish whatever meaningless threat he planned to throw at me. I didn't need to hear it. He was already irrelevant.

Enzo let out a breath beside me, tension draining from his shoulders. "You didn’t have to go full assassin on him."

I glanced at him. "Are you complaining?"

A flicker of something dangerous danced in his eyes. "Not at all. I’m impressed."

Inside, the tension in the air finally began to dissipate. The private lounge was warm, familiar—Paulina had already prepared drinks for us, as if she had sensed the battle from afar. A crisp Bordeaux for me, aged scotch for Enzo. Some things never changed.

Enzo slumped into a chair, running a hand through his hair. "This is just the beginning," he muttered. "Once the media gets a whiff of my return, they’ll dig into everything—especially our connection."

I swirled my wine, watching the liquid catch the light. "Then we control the narrative. If they’re going to talk about us, let’s make sure it’s on our terms."

Enzo arched a brow. "You mean go public?"

"Only if it escalates. Frame your return as a comeback story—a brilliant tech mogul reclaiming his throne. Keep personal matters off-limits."

His expression darkened.

"We’re trying to protect Livia, not put a target on her back."

"I know." My voice softened. "But hiding isn’t an option either. The world already knows you’re back. We just need to be smarter than them."

Enzo exhaled slowly, leaning back. "Our return isn’t just about the media. It’s about taking down the Sterlings. That’s the only thing that matters."

The fire in his eyes was something I understood all too well.

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

Enzo frowned as he picked it up. The moment he read the screen, the blood drained from his face.

"What is it?" I asked.

Without a word, he turned the screen toward me.

A breaking news alert flashed across the display:

Tech Mogul Enzo Klaus Returns—With a mysterious woman and her daughter.

My breath hitched.

The photo showed us arriving at the mansion earlier, our faces blurred but unmistakably us. My grip tightened around my glass, knuckles whitening.

Enzo's voice was grim. "It’s already out there."