The city lights stretched far beneath the penthouse balcony, shimmering like secrets too loud to whisper.
Elena stood outside with her arms folded against the chill. Her hair was unbound and dancing around her shoulders as if it, too, couldn't rest. Inside, the encrypted files still played on loop in her study, evidence of Krane's twisted ambition. But it was something else that kept her awake.
Grayson's voice.
-I'll always choose her. Even if you never choose me.
She hated how it stirred something soft inside her. Something she had buried.
The doorbell rang.
Her head turned sharply.
She wasn't expecting anyone. Not at this hour.
Elena grabbed her robe tighter and moved inside, tapping her security monitor.
Grayson Wolfe.
Alone.
Rain streaked down the camera lens as he stood there in a black coat, his jaw clenched like he wasn't sure if he should be there.
She pressed the intercom.
"You're persistent." She accused.
"I had nowhere else to go." He responded.
Her chest tightened.
With a sigh, she buzzed him in.
When she opened the door, Grayson didn't move to enter. He simply looked at her –really looked at her, as if memorizing the way her silhouette framed the light.
"Elena…" He whispered.
"I don't have time for dramatics," she said, stepping aside.
But even she heard the tremor in her voice.
He entered silently, rain dripping from his coat. She waited for him to speak, but he just stood there.
Finally, she snapped, "Say what you came to say."
"I know what Krane's next move is," he said, voice low. "He's targeting your board members, and buying their loyalty. He wants Monroe Holdings to collapse from the inside."
Her lips parted, surprise flashing across her face. "How do you know that?"
"I bribed one of his analysts."
She blinked.
"You risked that much… for me?"
"For her," he said, but his eyes told a different story.
A pause stretched between them.
Then Elena turned away. "You shouldn't be here."
Grayson moved forward, closing the space between them. "Why? Because it's easier to hate me than admit we were never over?"
She turned, fire in her gaze. "You betrayed me. You left me. You chose your ambition over us, Grayson."
"I know." His voice cracked. "And I have paid for that mistake every single day."
She stared at him, breathing uneven.
"I loved you," she whispered. "And you crushed it in your hands like it meant nothing."
"I didn't know about her," he said. "If I had... "
"You would've what?" she snapped. "Married me? Stayed? Pretended to love me again?"
"I never stopped loving you." He declared.
Silence.
Only the sound of rain tapping the balcony glass.
Then slowly, she stepped toward him. One step. Then another. Her heart pounded, anger and yearning wrestling inside her.
He didn't move.
She reached out, grabbed the collar of his coat... and pulled him into a kiss.
It was raw, angry, and desperate. His hands went to her waist, pulling her closer. Her fingers tangled in his hair as if trying to erase every memory of his betrayal and replace it with this one moment of surrender.
But it wasn't enough.
She broke the kiss and shoved him back.
"I don't know if I want to kill you or keep you," she whispered.
Grayson's breathing was ragged. "I'll take both if it means I still get to see you."
She didn't smile.
But she didn't slap him either.
Instead, she turned and walked toward her bedroom.
"Stay if you want," she said over her shoulder. "But don't think this changes anything."
The Next Morning at Wolfe Enterprises,
Jessica stared at Grayson across the table.
"You stayed the night?"
He said nothing, simply sipped his coffee.
She exhaled. "Then you need to know this. Krane's upping the ante. He's bringing in a new ally."
Grayson raised an eyebrow. "Who?"
"Lucian Voss."
Grayson froze.
"You're kidding."
Jessica shook her head. "He just landed in New York. Krane's banking on him to do the dirty work. And Lucian doesn't leave loose ends."
Grayson stood suddenly, tossing his phone on the table.
"Get every piece of intel we have on Lucian. If he touches Elena or Sophie…"
Jessica nodded. "Understood."
That Evening – Monroe Holdings Parking Garage,
Elena exited the building late, fatigue in her bones.
Her driver wasn't there.
Frowning, she tapped her earpiece. "Nico?"
Static.
She checked her phone.
No signal.
Her steps quickened. Her heels echoed across the concrete like alarms.
Suddenly, a black van screeched around the corner.
Her instincts kicked in.
She ran.
But a figure emerged from the shadows ahead, blocking her path. Tall, broad-shouldered, dressed in black with a calm cruelty in his smile.
"Elena Monroe," he said softly, as if tasting her name.
She backed away. "Who are you?"
He grinned.
"Lucian Voss. Krane sends his regards."
He lunged.
She turned, trying to flee, but he was fast—too fast for her. She felt the sharp sting of a needle pierce her neck before everything went black.