Zara stood in the penthouse's floor-to-ceiling windows, her reflection a ghost of the woman she was trying to become. The city buzzed below—oblivious, hungry. Just like the media. Just like everyone watching.
The elevator footage hadn't just gone viral. It had ignited a storm.
Blogs speculated about a secret affair, tabloids pitted her against Lucien's ex-lovers, and the business world whispered about nepotism and manipulation. Headlines called her Lucien Vale's mistress, the siren of scandal, a schemer in designer heels.
But what cut deeper was how alone she felt in all of it.
She turned from the glass as Lila entered the room holding a sleek black tablet. "It's worse now," she said, her voice tight. "They're saying the footage confirms you used sex to climb the ValeCorp ladder."
Zara's jaw clenched. "Let them say it. Every rumor burns itself out eventually."
"Unless someone keeps feeding the fire," Lila said. "Blackwell just leaked internal memos. Meetings you and Lucien had in private. They're making it look like you were influencing corporate decisions—illegally."
Zara stiffened. "That bastard."
"Also," Lila added, grimacing, "Damien just posted a cryptic tweet. Something about loyalty and betrayal. Hashtag 'NotSurprised.' It's trending."
Zara crossed the room, her blood hot. "He wants to force Lucien out. He'll humiliate us both to do it."
Lila nodded. "You need to get ahead of this."
"I will."
An hour later, Zara sat across from Lucien in his private office, tension thick between them. He looked sharper than usual—his black-on-black suit impeccable, his tie loose but calculated, his face unreadable.
"You were right," Zara said, not bothering with small talk. "It's Damien. And Blackwell's working with him."
Lucien didn't blink. "Of course I was right. I've been playing this game since before you learned the rules."
She narrowed her eyes. "Then why am I the one with claw marks down my reputation?"
His lips twitched. "Because they fear you more than they fear me. You're unpredictable."
"No," she snapped. "They think I'm disposable."
He leaned forward. "Then make them regret it."
"How?" she asked, bitter. "By putting a ring on your finger and smiling for the cameras like we're the next corporate fairy tale?"
Lucien exhaled slowly. "This isn't about a ring. It's about control. About keeping what we built from becoming their playground."
Zara stared at him. "You mean what you built."
He met her gaze. "No, Zara. What we built. Don't play dumb. You've been just as calculated as me."
She looked away. "And yet I'm the only one bleeding."
Lucien stood and walked to the liquor cabinet, pouring whiskey into a glass. "I told you, we either control the narrative or get destroyed by it."
"I don't want a fake engagement."
Lucien turned. "Then make it real."
The words hung in the air.
Zara stared at him. "Are you serious?"
"I don't do jokes."
"You don't do love either."
Lucien took a sip, his eyes unreadable. "No. But I do loyalty. And I do power. And with you, I see both."
Zara's throat tightened. "You want me to marry you to protect your company?"
"To protect us, whether you want to admit there is an 'us' or not."
She stood, fury bubbling under her skin. "You don't get to package this up as a romantic offer, Lucien. This isn't a proposal. It's a power move."
He smirked. "You like power moves."
She threw her hands up. "God, you're insufferable."
He stepped toward her, all dark energy and controlled heat. "And you're the only woman who's ever matched me blow for blow."
Zara backed up slightly, but his presence followed.
"Tell me something," he said softly. "If I didn't offer you marriage—if I let you walk away—what would you do?"
She swallowed. "Disappear. Build something new. Burn this place behind me."
"And yet you haven't walked away yet."
"I don't run," she said, her voice barely above a whisper.
Lucien stared at her for a long moment. Then he said, quietly, "Neither do I."
They stood in silence.
Then he set the whiskey glass down and reached into the drawer.
A box. Small. Velvet. Heavy.
He didn't open it.
Just held it out.
"Not for the press," he said. "Not for them. For you. Because whether we admit it or not, Zara, we've crossed a line."
She stared at it. At him.
Her heart beat like war drums.
"You can say no," he said. "And I'll respect it. But if you say yes… we fight this together. And we win."
Zara didn't take the box.
But she didn't walk out either.
Her eyes lifted to his, and for the first time in weeks, she let herself feel—the fear, the want, the weight of what it all meant.
"I need time," she whispered.
Lucien nodded once. "Then I'll wait. But not forever."