The penthouse was silent, perched high above Tokyo, where neon light spilled through floor-to-ceiling windows and bathed the room in a soft electric glow. The city pulsed below, buzzing with life, but Aiden Wolf—billionaire, tech mogul, and the face of power—sat still, naked in the moonlight, his heart thundering like a war drum.
Two women, draped across the bed like forgotten art, slept soundly after an hour of intense passion. Their perfume lingered in the air—sweat, sex, and something floral. Aiden rose quietly, not to avoid waking them but because they didn't matter. Not really. He couldn't remember their names. Couldn't care less.
He walked to the window, sipping from a bottle of mineral water instead of his usual scotch. His assistant had replaced all the alcohol in his suite weeks ago. He hadn't argued. It was easier to pretend he was trying.
His phone buzzed.
Two messages.
From Elena.
"Why do I still care?" "Are you okay?"
Aiden's breath caught in his throat. Her voice echoed in his head, clear and full of pain. She always knew when to ask. Always knew what to say to crack his perfect shell.
He typed.
You're the only thing I feel.
Deleted it.
Typed again.
I miss you.
Deleted it.
He stared out the window, the city stretching endlessly, a kingdom he owned but no longer ruled. He had everything—money, women, status, control—but he couldn't feel any of it.
Three Days Earlier – The Charity Gala
The ballroom shimmered in gold and crystal, music floating on champagne air. Aiden stood by the bar, sipping whiskey, scanning the crowd like a predator sizing up prey.
Then he saw her.
Sasha Vermeer.
She wore red. Blood red. The kind of dress that made time halt and the air leave your lungs. Her entrance wasn't just an appearance—it was an act of war.
Their eyes locked.
She smiled. Aiden's lips curved, wolfish. They didn't need to speak. Not yet. The night already knew what it would become.
She approached with the slow confidence of someone who owned every room she entered.
"Still staring, Wolf?" she teased.
"I don't stare," he said. "I calculate."
She laughed, low and sultry. "Then calculate me."
What followed was inevitable.
The limo. The suite. Her dress in a pile. Their bodies a blur. She screamed his name like it meant something. But midway through, Aiden was gone.
In his mind, he saw Elena. Her eyes, her smile, her refusal.
"You're not real," he muttered, eyes still closed.
Sasha paused. "What?"
"Nothing," he said, flipping her over and drowning her voice in a kiss he didn't feel.
The Next Morning – WolfX Boardroom
Aiden sat at the head of a long glass table, immaculate in a black-on-black Tom Ford suit. The board members fidgeted with their tablets as he laid out his plans for acquiring LuminaGen.
"This is not a negotiation," he said. "We move forward, or you find another ride."
One of the older men cleared his throat. "Aiden, this could trigger a regulatory war—"
Aiden's eyes were steel. "Then let it."
Silence.
He commanded loyalty like others breathed air.
But inside, he felt like he was suffocating.
Late Night – Elena's Apartment (Video Call)
Elena's face appeared on the screen, framed by soft lamplight and exhaustion.
"I shouldn't have called," she said.
"I wanted you to."
She looked at him, not with anger, but with sadness.
"You're still doing it, aren't you?"
He said nothing. Didn't need to.
"You told me you wanted to change."
"I do," he said quietly.
"You can't love someone and keep hurting them."
"I don't love anyone else. Just you."
She shook her head. "Then show me."
2:03 a.m. – Present
The women were still asleep. Aiden stood shirtless in the mirror, looking into his own eyes like they belonged to a stranger.
There was a knock at the door.
He opened it without thinking.
The woman standing there was tall, brunette, in a red coat.
"I was told you requested company," she said.
He blinked. Her face—it looked like Elena. Not quite. But enough to make his chest ache.
"I didn't call for anyone."
"But you want me to stay?"
He didn't answer.
She stepped in. Dropped her coat.
And he whispered, barely audible:
"Elena."