Amara's POV:
I froze, my words caught in my throat. I had prepared myself for anger, for him to justify, for walls between us—but not this. Seeing him like this… raw, unguarded, trembling with a mixture of regret and love… it broke something in me.
The man who had seemed so untouchable, so untiring, so cold… was just… human. Just like me. And right now, his vulnerability was entirely for me. Why does he always turn too fragile for me? I hate myself for this. I just wanted him to explain not to go this vulnerable and regretful.
"You… you really mean that?" I whispered, my voice fragile, unsure if I wanted the answer or if I was scared to hear it.
His gaze softened further, a glimmer of desperation and hope shining through. "Every word, Ama. Every single word. I failed you before, but I can't… I won't fail you again. Not if I can stop it."
Something in my chest tightened, a mix of longing, relief, and frustration. Part of me wanted to run into his arms, to fix everything with one embrace. Another part of me wanted to keep my guard up, to protect myself from the hurt I'd endured.
I stepped closer, letting my eyes search his, needing to know if this was real, if this wasn't just another carefully orchestrated move of his. "Vihaan… you've scared me so much," I admitted softly, voice quivering. "You pushed me away, kept me at arm's length, and all this time… you were only trying to protect me?"
He swallowed hard, his shoulders relaxing fractionally. With a slight nodding, he proceeded. "Every second, Ama. I am ready to take everything on myself, every risk, every pain, if it means keeping you safe and pain-free. I know it doesn't justify the apin I already gave you, but.... believe me, my intentions were never wrong, never against you."
I blinked at him, letting the words sink in. Then, with all the dramatic flair I could muster, I crossed my arms and tilted my head. "So… Mr. Vihaan Mickelson, the fearless, untouchable, always-in-control Vihaan… turned into a big, emotional puddle just for me?"
His eyes widened slightly, a hint of embarrassment flickering over his usually impenetrable face. "Big puddle? Really, Ama?" His voice was half annoyed, half amused—but I could hear the unsteady edge beneath it.
"Yes, really!" I said, smirking despite my own pounding heart. "And here I was thinking you only ever saved me from perverts and corporate conspiracies. Turns out, you save damsels from heartbreak, too?"
He shook his head, a small, reluctant smile tugging at his lips. "I didn't… I'm not some… damsel-saver," he muttered, though his gaze softened, and he took a step closer. "I just… can't stand the thought of losing you. Not ever. And if that makes me a puddle, fine. I'll own it."
I couldn't help the small laugh that slipped past my lips, though tears still threatened. "You're ridiculous," I said, shaking my head. "Absolutely ridiculous. But… maybe that's why I—"
I stopped myself mid-sentence, realizing how close I was standing to him. My heart raced. There was so much left unsaid, so many apologies and confessions tangled in the air between us.
He reached out, gently brushing a stray strand of hair from my face. "Ama… whatever you feel, whatever you think… I'll do everything to fix it. Every mistake, every tear… I'll try to make it right."
I felt a lump in my throat and finally let myself speak the truth, soft but firm: "Vihaan… just don't ever think I don't care. I do. Maybe more than I should… but that doesn't mean I forgive you yet."
He nodded, a quiet understanding settling over him, his usual confident aura softened, vulnerable just for me. And somehow, in that tense, awkward, almost comical moment, I felt… seen.
"Noah," I said suddenly, gesturing toward the poor man who was still cowering in the corner, "you may resume breathing now."
Noah gulped, straightened, and muttered, "Thank you… I think."
Vihaan let out a chuckle, shaking his head at the absurdity of it all. I smiled, finally allowing a bit of warmth to seep into my heart. Even if the road ahead was dangerous, even if secrets and threats waited for us, for this moment, we were… us again.
Vihaan's POV:
For the first time in weeks, I felt a little relieved, having her by my side even if she hasn't forgiven me yet. We finally sat down, the papers and USB drives spread across the table like a battlefield of secrets. I could feel her gaze on me, sharp and searching, but also… trusting. For the first time in weeks, it felt like we were on the same side again.
"These are the USBs I got there," she handed the USB drives to Noah, who looked like he wasn't sure whether to breathe or faint.
Ama leaned forward, her fingers tracing the lines on a folder; even her sling-encumbered hand was uncomfortable, but she endured, focused entirely on the papers.
"I'm coming," I said abruptly, without further explanation. They both stared at me, confusion written across their faces.
I dashed to a nearby store, bought a small pillow, and returned, slightly out of breath.
"Here," I said, shifting the pillow under her hand carefully.
She blinked at me, a small smirk tugging at the corner of her lips. "You really think a pillow is going to make this bearable?"
"Worth a try," I muttered, a rare lightness breaking through my otherwise tense expression.
Noah, unable to resist, piped up from the other side of the table: "Honestly, Vihaan, I think she might be plotting to hit you with that sling just to see if the pillow works."
Ama glanced at him, a mischievous sparkle in her eyes. "He won't even flinch if it hits him. Don't you worry, Noah."
"Yeah, well, lucky me," Noah muttered, raising his hands defensively, "I'm just here for moral support… and possibly first aid."
Her gaze softened slightly, and we returned to the papers. USBs and folders open, timelines, emails, old business contracts, everything spread out before us.
I leaned back slightly, my fingers tapping on the table as I traced the timeline across the folders and USB files.
"Ama… look at this," I said, pointing at an old email chain. "James Salvatore—your father—was working with Albert Morgan on Celine Ventures. But notice the dates. The last meeting they had, before your mother was attacked, included someone new: Seraphine Duvall."
Her eyes widened, following my finger.
"That's not all," I continued, voice low. "Seraphine's involvement isn't just business. She was present at a few locations tied to suspicious transactions, locations that were never publicly disclosed. And look here," I handed her a printout, "she was also corresponding with someone referred to only as 'S'. The same initial your mother mentioned in that journal."
Ama's breathing caught. "So… 'S' isn't just a random clue. It's someone deeply involved."
"Yes," I said, my voice rougher than I intended. "And the emails suggest someone forced Seraphine to leave town—or at least pretend she did. Whoever did it knew we'd be tracing this. Whoever 'S' is… they're always one step ahead."
"Every move we make now," I added, softer this time, almost a whisper, "we have to anticipate their moves. But we're not off track anymore. We know who's involved, and we know what we're looking for."
Ama nodded slowly, a mix of determination and fear in her eyes. "Then let's finish this. Let's confront Seraphine properly and finally get the answers."
I let out a breath I hadn't realized I'd been holding. "Together," I said, almost instinctively. "No more mistakes. No more hiding."
Her fingers tightened on the folder, and I could feel her resolve match mine. For the first time in weeks, the chaos of the past few months felt… manageable. And for the first time, I allowed myself to hope that maybe, just maybe, we could get through this together.