The boardroom was packed, the kind of suffocating full where you could smell ambition in the air. Rose stood at the head of the long mahogany table, running through quarterly results. Numbers strong, projections even stronger. Every point she made landed like a hammer—until the doors opened.
Damien strolled in late, an apologetic smile on his lips, but his eyes were all ice.
"Sorry, traffic," he said, sliding into his seat without waiting for acknowledgment. Lucien was smirking beside him. Celeste avoided Rose's gaze entirely.
Something in the room shifted.
Vincent, leaning casually in the back corner—visible to everyone today—stiffened. He'd been watching her siblings all week, and now his posture told her one thing: trouble.
---
Halfway through the meeting, Lucien raised his hand. "Rose, if I may…" He clicked a remote, and the projector flickered to life—only it wasn't the quarterly graphs.
It was a photo.
Her photo.
Rose, at a rooftop party three nights ago. Music, drinks, laughter—perfectly harmless… except in this angle, the shot made it look like she was intimately close to a foreign competitor's CEO.
Lucien's voice oozed false concern. "This was sent anonymously to my department this morning. Given your position, any… questionable relationships could be damaging to our brand."
The room buzzed with whispers.
Vincent's eyes narrowed. Rose didn't look at him—she kept her gaze locked on Lucien. "If you're implying I'm compromising the company, you'd better have more than a single manipulated photograph."
"I'm not implying anything," Lucien said smoothly. "I'm just suggesting the optics aren't… ideal."
---
The meeting ended with no decision, but the seed had been planted. By noon, a gossip site had the picture on its homepage under the headline: 'CEO Rose Elara's Secret Affair?'
Rose slammed the tablet down on her desk. "They're not even pretending to be subtle anymore."
Vincent stepped forward. "Then don't be subtle either."
She looked up at him. "Meaning?"
"Hit back. Publicly. You've been on the defensive since you took this role—time to make them afraid to touch you."
His voice carried that dangerous edge she'd come to recognize.
---
That night, Rose did something she rarely allowed herself—she asked for Vincent's help directly.
"I want to know exactly how far they'll go," she said. "Expose them before they bury me."
Vincent's lips curved in something that wasn't quite a smile. "I can make that happen. But once I start, I don't stop."
"Good."
---
The next 48 hours were a blur. Anonymous tips to the press about Damien's illegal gambling debts. Photos of Lucien with a known corporate spy. A leaked audio file of Celeste screaming threats at a junior employee.
Vincent didn't just dig dirt—he reshaped the battlefield. By the time Rose walked into the office Monday morning, the whispers weren't about her anymore.
But victory came with a cost.
She found a message taped to her office door. Just three words, printed in black:
"YOU WILL BURN."
---
That evening, as they sat in her penthouse, Rose confronted him.
"They know it's you."
"They don't know what I am," Vincent said, swirling the wine in his glass. "But yes, they'll try harder now."
"Doesn't that put you at risk?" she asked before she could stop herself.
He gave her a look that was almost amused. "I've faced worse than a few spoiled heirs."
But she wasn't laughing. "Vincent… if they hurt you—"
"They can't," he cut in, voice low. Then, softer: "You're the only one who can."
Her breath caught. She remembered their conversation about the 'precious thing.' About the rule. About losing him.
And for the first time, she realized she was already choosing.
---
Three days later, the trap was sprung.
Rose was leaving a charity gala when a van screeched to a halt in front of her. Two masked men jumped out. One grabbed her, the other shoved a cloth over her mouth. The world blurred.
When she woke, she was in a dark, windowless room.
And she wasn't alone.
Vincent stood there—chained, his shirt bloodstained, eyes dark but steady.
"Don't believe what you see," he said quickly. "They're using glamour—making it look like they've beaten me. They want you to break."
Before she could respond, the door slammed open. Damien walked in, flanked by Lucien and Celeste.
"You've taken everything from us," Damien said coldly. "Now we're taking everything from you."
He pulled a pistol from his jacket.
Rose didn't move. Didn't flinch. Her eyes were on Vincent.
"Trust me," he mouthed.
Damien raised the gun—
BANG.