The dining hall was drenched in gold and shadows. Candles flickered along the long table, their flames dancing like secrets waiting to be spilled. At the head of it all sat Richard Wolfe, dressed in a tailored charcoal suit, his eyes gleaming like a man who owned the night.
Amira walked in beside Jordan, refusing to flinch under Richard's hungry stare.
"You look stunning, Mrs. Kingsley," Richard said smoothly, gesturing for them to sit. "Or shall I say… the CEO's Woman?"
Amira didn't smile. "Let's skip the small talk."
Richard chuckled, slowly slicing into his steak. "I like her. She's got more spine than the last one, Jordan."
Jordan's jaw tensed, but he didn't rise to the bait.
"You said you wanted truth," Jordan said. "Say it."
Richard leaned back in his chair, folding his arms. "Very well. You want truth? Fine. I helped build Project X. I was there before your grandfather ever put your name on the map. That power was mine before you were old enough to tie a tie. And now… you've diluted it. Married it. Watered it down with sentiment."
"You betrayed my family," Jordan said coldly. "You stole information. Sold out agents. Turned blood into currency."
"And you," Richard fired back, "married a girl you barely knew. You gambled the future of Kingsley Enterprises for what? A womb?"
Amira stood suddenly. "Don't talk about me like I'm not in the room."
Richard raised a brow, amused. "Oh, I'm very aware of you, sweetheart. You're the wildcard. The one Jordan never expected to care about."
Jordan stood too, protective. "This conversation is over."
But Richard only smiled darker. "You really don't get it, do you? There's no walking away from this. You brought her into the war. And now, she's your biggest weakness."
Amira's pulse thundered. But she didn't let it show.
"You're wrong," she said. "I'm not his weakness. I'm his weapon."
---
Tension Explodes
Seconds later, a window shattered.
A sniper's bullet embedded in the far wall—mere inches from Amira's head.
Jordan grabbed her, pulling her to the ground as chaos erupted. His guards stormed in, weapons drawn. Richard stood calmly, lifting his glass of wine as if it were all a performance.
"Consider that a warning," he said softly. "Next time, I won't miss."
Jordan's fists clenched. "You just made this personal."
"It was always personal," Richard replied. "I suggest you start choosing sides, Amira. Because there will be no neutrality when the empire falls."
Then he disappeared through the back hallway before security could catch him.
---
Back at the Mansion
The drive back was silent.
Amira stared out the window, replaying the moment the bullet whizzed past her head. But instead of fear, she felt fury—burning in her chest, surging in her veins.
When they arrived, Jordan followed her into the bedroom.
"I'm sorry," he said quietly.
She turned to face him. "For putting me in danger?"
"For everything."
She stepped forward. "I meant what I said back there. I'm not your weakness."
Jordan looked at her, really looked. "Then be my strength. Stay. Fight with me."
Amira nodded slowly. "But we do it together. No more secrets. No more shadows."
"No more shadows," he promised.
Then he pulled her into his arms—and for the first time since this twisted story began, she let herself fall.
Not because she was weak.
But because together… they were going to burn the world down.