Chapter 4: She's back.

Chapter 4: She's back.

The pen glided over paper in smooth, deliberate strokes, its faint scratch the only sound in the still room. Fingers tightened briefly around it before resuming their steady rhythm. Lowe’s gaze flicked to the window, where the city lights blinked against the dark. A muscle in his jaw shifted, then stilled, as he returned to the paper, his movements precise yet heavy with unspoken weight.

The door creaked open, and Mark, his assistant, stepped in with measured caution. His every movement was calculated, as though he feared one wrong step might trigger an unseen mine.

“Sir, you asked to see me?” Mark’s voice was carefully modulated, pitched just right—respectful but not intrusive.

Lowe’s hand paused mid-signature, the pen stalling against the paper. The sound of it being placed back on the glass desktop was soft, almost muted, but in the silence, it resonated like a gunshot. Slowly, he raised his head, revealing the face that had become synonymous with power and fear. Sharp, angular features that seemed carved from stone, eyes like molten ice, and lips pressed into a thin, unyielding line. Even sitting still, he exuded a presence so suffocating that Mark found it hard to breathe.

Mark swallowed hard, his pulse quickening. The air felt thick, oppressive, as though the room itself was holding its breath. Silence stretched between them, heavy and unbroken, until finally, Lowe’s voice cut through it like a blade.

“Have you found the jade pendant yet?” His tone was low, deliberate, every syllable carrying a dangerous edge.

Mark stiffened as if the words had struck him. His hands curled unconsciously into fists at his sides, his voice steady but strained. “No, sir,” he replied. “We’ve scoured every possible lead. We even combed through the black market, but there’s no sign of it—or the woman who saved you that night.”

Lowe’s expression remained unreadable, but the faintest flicker of disappointment crossed his eyes before it was swallowed by the storm of restrained fury building behind them. His jaw clenched, the muscle there twitching as if it were trying to hold back the tide of emotions threatening to spill over. Slowly, he pushed back his chair, the legs scraping against the floor in a sound that echoed like thunder in the room’s silence. He stood and moved toward the towering windows, his hands slipping into the pockets of his tailored suit as he gazed out at the sprawling city.

Outside, the skyline gleamed with the soft glow of twilight, but Lowe’s thoughts were lost in the shadows of the past. His fingers curled into fists within his pockets, his nails biting into his palms. The pendant wasn’t just a trinket—it was his last thread to the mysterious woman who had risked everything to save him. Without it, she remained a phantom, an unfinished promise haunting his every waking moment.

“Keep searching,” he said at last, his back still turned to Mark. His voice was quieter now, but no less commanding. “I don’t care what it takes or how long. Dead or alive, I want her found.”

Mark hesitated briefly, then gave a low bow. “Understood, sir.” With that, he turned and left the room, the sound of the door closing behind him barely registering in Lowe’s mind.

Alone again, Lowe allowed himself a moment of vulnerability. His hand rose to his temple, fingers pressing against the tension there, but it did little to relieve the ache. Today marked the fifth anniversary of her death. Mila. The name alone was enough to send a spear of anguish through his chest.

He exhaled sharply and turned from the window, pacing back to his desk. His steps were slow, measured, but there was a restless energy to them. Reaching the desk, he braced his hands against the cool surface, his head bowing as the memories surged forward.

Five years ago. The night that had shattered his life. The ambush, the betrayal, the drugs, she'd even killed his mother too. 

Mila’s face flashed before his mind’s eye—not the one he had loved, but the one from that final moment, twisted in fear and despair. His jaw tightened further, the taste of bitterness sharp on his tongue.

He straightened abruptly, his hand gripping the edge of the desk so tightly that his knuckles turned white. “If she were still alive...” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. The words were laced with venom, a dangerous mix of pain and anger that he couldn’t entirely suppress.

But she wasn’t alive. And for that, the fire in his chest burned brighter, consuming everything in its path.

---

Meanwhile…

On the other side of the city, Myla sat in the back seat of a sleek black car, her expression a mix of determination and quiet fury. The cityscape blurred past the windows, but her mind wasn’t on the bustling streets or the towering skyscrapers. Her thoughts were on her family.

Her family’s empire, Carson Corp, had once been a titan in the industry. Her father had built it with his bare hands, turning it into a household name. But all that changed when he fell into a coma. Sally, her conniving stepmother, and Madison, her spiteful stepsister, had seized control, driving the company to the brink of ruin.

But Myla was back now, and she wasn’t about to let them get away with what they’d done.

---

Back at Carson Corp family house estate, chaos reigned.

“Mom, for fuck’s sake, stop pacing!” Madison snapped, lounging lazily on the velvet sofa. She blew on her freshly painted nails, her smirk one of complete indifference.

Sally shot her an icy glare. “How can you be so calm? Do you have any idea what’s at stake here? If that person acquiring the company decides to claim this house too, what will we do then?”

Madison rolled her eyes. “Relax, Mother. Even if Carson Corp crumbles, we still have my shares in Sterling Inc. That alone is enough to secure us for life.”

At those words, a flicker of relief passed over Sally’s features. “You’re right,” she muttered, her tone softening. “And don’t forget about the marriage contract. If you marry Lowe, we’ll be untouchable.”

A sly grin spread across Madison’s face. “Exactly. With that bitch Mila gone, there’s no one left to challenge me.”

Just as the tension began to ease, the sound of hurried footsteps echoed in the hallway. The butler burst into the room, his face pale and his breathing ragged.

“Madam! Miss!” he stammered, his voice trembling.

Sally’s eyes narrowed. “What is it? What’s gotten you so worked up?”

The butler hesitated, his gaze darting between the two women. Finally, he blurted out, “She’s back!”

Sally froze, the blood draining from her face. “Who’s back?” she demanded, her voice barely above a whisper.

The butler swallowed hard. “Mila… She’s back!”