The café was tucked away on a quiet street, far enough from the prying eyes of the press, Steele Industries, and most importantly—Alexander.I sat at a corner table, my fingers wrapped around a lukewarm cup of coffee I wasn’t drinking. Every muscle in my body was tight with anticipation as I waited. The city’s usual hum seemed distant, muffled by the weight of what I was about to do.A chair scraped against the floor, and I looked up.The man across from me was older, weathered, dressed in a dark suit that had seen better days. There was something sharp in his gaze, something that told me he wasn’t meeting me here for goodwill."Leila Hawthorne," he greeted, his voice smooth but edged with caution.I met his stare. "You used to work for Cassandra."His lips curled in something resembling a smirk. "Once upon a time."I leaned forward. "Then you know why we’re here."A beat of silence. Then he let out a slow breath. "I know you want to bring her down. But what makes you think I’ll help
The ocean stretched endlessly before me, its waves calm, rhythmic, an illusion of peace. The sun dipped below the horizon, painting the sky with golden hues, but my mind refused to settle.Alexander and I had needed this—time away, a break from the chaos of our world.Yet, even as I sat on the private villa’s balcony, sipping a cocktail, I couldn’t shake the feeling that something wasn’t right.I turned to Alexander, who sat beside me, his gaze locked on his phone. His jaw was tense, his fingers gripping the device too tightly."Work?" I asked, trying to keep my voice light.He exhaled sharply, locking the screen and setting the phone on the table between us. "No. Just a feeling."I arched a brow. "A bad one?"His eyes met mine, dark and searching. "I don’t trust silence, Leila. Not in our world."I swallowed, a chill creeping down my spine despite the warm island air.Before I could respond, his phone buzzed.Alexander picked it up, his expression hardening as he read the screen.The
The Collapse BeginsI had seen Alexander angry before. I had seen him calculated, relentless, and ice-cold in negotiations.But this?This was something else.He stood in front of the massive floor-to-ceiling windows of his office, his hands clenched into fists at his sides, shoulders rigid. The city stretched beneath him—New York, our battlefield—but right now, the empire he had built was crumbling.“We lost two investors today.” His voice was steady, but I knew him well enough to hear what lurked beneath—rage, frustration, self-recrimination.I swallowed. “How bad is it?”His jaw tightened. “Bad.”I stepped closer, trying to bridge the space between us. “We’ll fix it.”He let out a sharp laugh, bitter and humourless. “Fix it? Leila, in the last twenty-four hours, we’ve lost millions. Damien and Cassandra orchestrated this perfectly. First, the leak. Then, the board’s doubt. Now, the investors pulling out.”I hated how right he was.I folded my arms. “We’re not out yet. There’s still
“I have a plan.”The words left my mouth before I had a chance to reconsider them. The moment they were spoken, the weight of what I was about to suggest settled in my chest.Alexander lifted his gaze from the financial reports spread across his desk. The room was dimly lit, his office feeling smaller than usual despite its vast space. He didn’t say anything immediately, but the sharpness in his eyes made it clear—he wasn’t in the mood for half-baked ideas.I stepped forward, closing the space between us. “It’s risky,” I admitted. “But it’s our best shot.”He leaned back in his chair, exhaling slowly. “Define risky.”I swallowed, steadying myself. “We let Damien think he’s won.”Silence.Then, he let out a dry laugh, shaking his head. “You can’t be serious.”“I am.”He pushed his chair back, standing with deliberate movements. His hands found his pockets, and for a long moment, he just studied me.“No,” he said finally.I braced myself. “Hear me out—”“No.” His tone was clipped and co
“You need to see this.”The urgency in Alexander’s voice sent a chill down my spine. He stood in front of his desk, phone in hand, his usual composed expression shadowed by something colder.I walked toward him, taking the phone hesitantly. My pulse kicked up the moment I saw what he was looking at—a news article with a headline designed to destroy.Billionaire Mogul’s Wife Tied to Family Scandal—The Truth About Leila Adams SteeleMy breath caught. The article was a full-page exposé, filled with half-truths, twisted facts, and outright lies. It dug into my past and my family’s financial struggles before the marriage and implied that I had manipulated my way into Alexander’s world.I scanned further, and my blood turned to ice.A leaked private email exchange between my father and a lawyer.“Where did they get this?” I whispered, my grip tightening.Alexander’s voice was sharp. “Cassandra.”I looked up. His jaw was clenched, his hands pressed against the edge of the desk as though grou
The moment Alexander set the file down on his desk, I knew.This wasn’t just business.It was personal.He exhaled slowly, his fingers pressing into the edge of the desk as if grounding himself. His expression was unreadable, but the weight of what he’d just uncovered filled the air between us like an unspoken storm.I stepped forward, my stomach twisting. “What is it?”He didn’t answer right away. Instead, he slid the file toward me. “Read it.”I hesitated before picking it up, my pulse kicking up with every word I read. The information was damning—an entire dossier on Cassandra Whitmore’s past. Her connection to Steele Industries ran far deeper than we ever imagined.I looked up. “This… This isn’t just about power, is it?”Alexander’s jaw tightened. “No.”I flipped to the next page, my breath catching at the familiar name.Richard Steele.My stomach dropped.Cassandra’s vendetta wasn’t against Alexander.It was against his father.I met his gaze. “Alexander… what did your father do
The gown was sleek, form-fitting, a shade of deep emerald that shimmered under the ballroom lights. I barely recognize myself in the mirror, the transformation from Leila Steele, wife of a billionaire, to a woman capable of walking into the lion’s den unnoticed.I exhaled slowly, adjusting the delicate diamond bracelet on my wrist.This wasn’t just another event.It was a battlefield.Damien’s charity gala was a carefully orchestrated performance, a façade meant to distract from what was really happening behind closed doors. And if I played this right, I would find the cracks.A soft knock at the hotel suite’s door.I turned, my pulse picking up. Alexander.The moment he stepped inside, his sharp gaze swept over me, and something flickered in his eyes—a mixture of tension and frustration.“I still don’t like this,” he said, voice low and controlled.I forced a small smile, crossing my arms. “You weren’t supposed to.”His jaw clenched. “You don’t have to do this, Leila.”I stepped forw
I paced the study, my fingers curling into fists at my sides. The conversation still echoed in my mind. The betrayal. The confirmation that Damien wasn’t just building a company to rival Steele Industries—he was dismantling us from the inside. Leila had barely made it out of that gala without being caught. And now, I was left with one option. One I never wanted to consider. I needed help. And the only person who could provide it was someone I swore I’d never deal with again. I exhaled slowly, rolling my shoulders back as I pulled my phone from my pocket. The number was still in my contacts, untouched for years. A familiar sense of irritation burned through me just seeing the name. I tapped the screen. The call barely rang twice before it connected. A deep chuckle greeted me. “Well, well. To what do I owe the pleasure?” I gritted my teeth. “Cut the shit, Roman. We need to talk.” Silence. Then, a low hum. “Now that’s interesting. Alexander Steele calling me for
You’d think after everything we’ve been through, we’d know how to keep our promises.I stood in the middle of our kitchen, barefoot, wrapped in one of Alexander’s oversized shirts. The silence in the penthouse was loud—only broken by the hum of the refrigerator and the dull buzz of my phone on the counter. Again.Work messages. At nearly midnight.The trip had ended three days ago. Three perfect, disconnected, sun-drenched days where we remembered what we were without the world pulling us in opposite directions. But the second we landed, the floodgates opened.He’d already broken our no-work-after-seven rule twice. I’d ignored it the first time. Justified the second. But now?Now I was pissed.I didn’t hear him walk in until his voice cut through the quiet like a wire snapping.“You’re still up?”I turned, crossing my arms. “That’s your opening line?”Alexander stilled, already sensing the storm brewing in me. He looked tired—no, wrecked—but I didn’t let it soften me this time.“I had
"Just when we thought we had it all figured out, life threw us a curveball wrapped in dollar signs."The morning sun streamed through the floor-to-ceiling windows of our penthouse, casting a deceptive calm over the chaos brewing beneath. Alexander sat at the dining table, a thick dossier open before him, his brow furrowed in concentration. The sight was both familiar and unsettling."Leila," he began, his voice measured but tinged with an undercurrent I couldn't quite place. "We need to discuss this proposal."I set down my coffee, the rich aroma suddenly nauseating. "Another one? Didn't we agree to take a step back after the last project nearly consumed us?"He sighed, rubbing his temples. "I know. But this... this is different. It's a partnership offer from Global Innovations. The potential here is massive."I approached, glancing over his shoulder at the documents. The figures were staggering, the kind that could solidify our company's position at the pinnacle of the industry. But
"Love isn't tested in the calm; it's forged in the storm."I stood at the edge of our penthouse balcony, the city lights stretching out like a sea of stars beneath me. The cool breeze did little to calm the storm brewing inside.Alexander's voice broke through my thoughts. "Leila, what's going on?"I turned to see him leaning against the doorway, concern etched on his face. His presence, usually so grounding, now felt like a lifeline."It's Daniel," I began, my voice barely steady. "He's back, and with him, all the memories I've tried to forget."Alexander's eyes narrowed. "What does he want?""He says he's in trouble," I replied, wrapping my arms around myself. "But his return has stirred up doubts about who I was... and who I am now."Alexander crossed the space between us, placing his hands on my shoulders. "Your past doesn't define you, Leila. We all have shadows. It's how we move forward that matters."Tears welled up, blurring my vision. "But what if those shadows catch up? What
"Just when you think you've buried your past, it has a way of knocking on your front door."The morning sun streamed through the floor-to-ceiling windows of our penthouse, casting a golden glow over the minimalist decor. I stood at the kitchen island, nursing a cup of coffee, its rich aroma filling the air. Alexander sat across from me, engrossed in the financial section of the newspaper, his brow furrowed in concentration."Anything interesting?" I asked, breaking the comfortable silence.He looked up, a small smile playing on his lips. "Just the usual market fluctuations. Nothing that can't wait."I nodded, taking another sip of my coffee. The tranquility of the moment was shattered by the sharp chime of the doorbell. Alexander and I exchanged puzzled glances; we weren't expecting anyone."I'll get it," I offered, setting my mug down and moving toward the door.As I opened it, my breath caught in my throat. Standing before me was a ghost from my past—Daniel. His once-boyish face was
“Success had always been my compass, but lately, it felt like I was navigating without a map.”I stared at the half-empty espresso cup on the kitchen island. The crema had gone flat, the kind of detail I usually wouldn’t notice. But now it felt like the perfect metaphor for everything that had gone dull lately—even the parts of life that were supposed to taste rich.Leila padded in barefoot, wearing my faded CalTech hoodie and holding a mug of tea. Her hair was a mess, and her cheeks were still pink from sleep, but damn if she didn’t still stop me cold.“You didn’t sleep again,” she said.I gave a non-answer shrug and kept my eyes on the city outside the window.She set her mug down and leaned on the counter, not pressing yet. Just... waiting. That was something she’d learned recently. How to wait for me to come to her instead of dragging it out of me.“I’ve been thinking,” I finally said.“Uh-oh,” she said, smiling a little. “That’s your ‘change the company overnight’ voice.”“No. No
“Grief doesn’t ask permission. It just shows up, wrecks everything, and dares you to clean it up.”It started with silence.Not the peaceful kind. Not the kind where two people sit next to each other and don’t need to fill the space. This was the heavy kind. The kind that sat between us at the dinner table while Alexander pushed food around his plate and pretended to be somewhere else.He hadn’t touched the roasted chicken. I made it from scratch. It used to be his favorite.“You haven’t eaten all day,” I said, not looking up from my own plate. I’d barely taken a bite myself.“I’m not hungry.”"You said that yesterday."He finally looked up. His eyes were dull, rimmed red from nights I knew he wasn’t sleeping through.“Leila,” he said flatly. “Please. Not tonight.”I set my fork down. “It’s been nine nights.”He exhaled sharply and shoved his chair back. “I can't do this right now.”And just like that, he was gone—down the hall, the door to his study clicking shut behind him.At first
"Alex, it's your dad."I heard the change in his voice before I heard the words. He'd just picked up a call—early, too early for it to be anything good. His body stiffened. His shoulders pulled back like someone punched him from behind.I was halfway down the stairs in a T-shirt and one sock when I saw his face.“What’s wrong?” I asked, breath catching.He lowered the phone slowly like it weighed fifty pounds. “It’s my father,” he said. “He’s had a heart attack.”---We didn’t talk much on the drive to the hospital. He gripped the steering wheel like he needed it to keep breathing. I sat there, silent, staring out the window, trying to do something—anything—but think about what it would mean if this went badly.He didn’t need me to talk. Not yet.He just needed me there.---When we got to the hospital, we found Emily pacing outside the ICU. Her face was blotchy. Her hands shook.“They rushed him into surgery two hours ago,” she said, and when Alex hugged her, her voice cracked. “They
"We need to get away."Alexander's voice cut through the ambient hum of our penthouse, his tone resolute.I glanced up from my laptop, fingers hovering over the keyboard. "Away? Now?""Yes, now." He crossed the room, his movements deliberate, and gently closed my laptop. "We've been running on fumes for months, Leila. It's time to hit pause."I leaned back, studying his face—the tension etched in the lines around his eyes, the tight set of his jaw. "And you think a getaway will fix everything?""Not everything," he admitted, perching on the edge of the coffee table opposite me. "But it's a start."I sighed, the weight of unending responsibilities pressing down. "Where would we even go?"A slow smile curved his lips. "Leave that to me."---Two days later, we were airborne on his private jet, destination undisclosed. Alexander reveled in the mystery, his eyerevelledling with unspoken secrets."You're enjoying this, aren't you?" I teased, nudging his shoulder.He chuckled, a rich sound
"You can't be serious, Leila."Alexander's voice echoed through our expansive living room, his tone a mix of disbelief and frustration.I stood my ground, meeting his intense gaze. "I am serious. This is my project, and I need to do this on my own."He ran a hand through his hair, a gesture I knew all too well. "Why now? Why this?""Because I need to prove to myself that I can," I replied, my voice steady despite the turmoil inside.Alexander sighed, his shoulders slumping slightly. "I just don't want to see you get hurt.""I know," I said softly. "But I have to take this risk."---The opportunity had come unexpectedly—a chance to lead a project without Alexander's influence overshadowing me. It was a small tech startup looking for investors, and I saw potential where others saw risk."You're sure about this?" Jessica, my closest confidante and our company's CFO, asked as we reviewed the proposal.I nodded. "Absolutely. This could be the breakthrough I've been waiting for."She raise