The penthouse's glass walls glittered against the city skyline like a jewel perched on steel.
As the whole city went about their business hurriedly, inside, Zane Cross's world was almost too quiet.
His focus tonight was locked on a string of spreadsheets and encrypted messages.
A payment trail caught his attention, five transfers, each small enough to dodge the accountants' alerts, but routed through the same obscure shell corporation.
Someone was siphoning information a teaspoon at a time, clever enough to avoid a splash.
He zoomed in, isolating dates and timestamps. The first withdrawal? two days before Cross Development submitted its confidential bid.
He leaned back, lips pressed thin wondering who it could be. Victor? too obvious.
Victor was ambitious, but reckless betrayal wasn't his style. The junior consultant who'd been too eager in meetings? She didn't have access. Zane's mind sifted through faces like cards in a deck.
A clipped message popped on his secure line. Delivery confirmed. No sender tag. He'd intercepted the text through a private security contact, a favor he wasn't supposed to call in.
His father's voice flickered in memory, deep, unyielding. Trust is currency. Spend it once, and you never get change.
The old man had died protecting the family's empire from vultures just like this.
Zane opened another window, summoning a holographic map of transaction nodes. Lines flared between offshore accounts, a digital constellation of betrayal.
One branch connected to Cador Holdings, Cross Development's oldest rival. His pulse quickened, but he forced it back to its steady rhythm. This particular evidence was not proof.
He considered dialing Victor, thought better of it. Confrontation now would tip his hand. Instead, he tapped a discrete number. The line clicked once.
"Follow the movements linked to Redstar Shell," Zane said quietly.
"Any limits?" His P.I, asked.
"Don't be seen. I want eyes, not noise.
He stood up and tossed his cufflinks onto a marble tray by the door. When he got to his bedroom, he loosened his tie, and padded barefoot across polished concrete, to his walk-in closet, where he undressed.
Soon he was washing the day's struggle, down the drain.
The city adored Zane for his sharp instincts when it came to investment. Forbes had called him "The man of the hour." But here, with his robe wound tight around him, he almost looked… tired.
A photograph sat tucked beside the bourbon decanter on a sideboard.Black and white, edges worn.
His younger self, with a younger boy, both stood in between a woman and a man in hard hats, all grins and windblown hair at a construction site.
He let his fingers brush the frame, as if reminiscing, a fleeting softness crossed his face, as he looked hard and long before he set it, face down.
Maya's voice had echoed in his head all day. Her boldness. The way she'd looked him in the eye when she'd accused him of hiding something. She wasn't wrong, he gave her that, but he'd taken her off the Cross Development pitch team anyway, telling her it was "to protect her." The truth was that it was to protect her, as well as himself and company.
He didn't want to drag her deeper into the quiet war brewing under his roof.
Zane Cross had stared at the encrypted message for twenty minutes and still couldn't trace the sender.
His security consultant's voice on the speaker was a dull drone of excuses. Burner phones, offshore relays, the usual smokescreen.
He killed the call, jaw tight.
Someone was playing a game on his turf,first the anonymous warning to Maya, now a second text hinting that Cross Development would "pay for its sins."
He didn't like being watched, and he hated being outmaneuvered.What in the hell was " They won't save you again? Who were the other players?
He hated not knowing and being blind sided like this.
He tapped a pen against the envelope photo on his desk, the one Maya had flashed at him.
Victor had assured him the mole was feeding just enough misinformation to keep their rival distracted, but the leaks still coming out meant something else was at work.
He crossed into his home office again. Sleek, minimalist space lined with floor-to-ceiling shelves and a sprawling city view.
The faint smell of cedar from the desk drawers clung to the air.
He was expected to meet with the mole he had planted in Cador's rank the next day, but the mole was taking his sweet time contacting him to confirm the meeting.
What if the wrong person had seen him…
Zane leaned back, steepling his fingers. Maya had.
Her wide eyes as she passed on the sidewalk earlier replayed in his mind. For a split second, he'd seen curiosity flare, followed by suspicion.
He felt it was better she suspected him of all sorts than to bring her in, exposing her to danger.
He poured himself a glass of bourbon, the amber liquid gurgling up in the quiet of the room. One sip burned a path down his throat, grounding him.
On the desk, a secure message blinked from his head of security. No movement yet. Leak still unconfirmed.
Yawn escaped Zane as he stood up, ready for bed. The penthouse's vast windows framed him like a king surveying his territory. For a moment, he let the mask slip again, his shoulders sagging, jaw unclenching. It had been years since anyone had seen him like this.
The bourbon glass clinked against the desk as he set it down. His phone buzzed with a calendar alert.
She'd scheduled a meeting for tomorrow morning, despite his instructions for her to lay low. Not an email. Not a message through an assistant. A direct request, to meet physically.
His chest tightened, a flicker of something almost like excitement darting under the irritation.
He admired her audacity, how she stood her ground even when she shouldn't. And he hated that he admired it.
Zane sank into his bed, enveloped in all its luxury and comfort, which he took no particular notice of.
"Damn it, Maya," he muttered under his breath.
He should cut her loose entirely, keep her far from Cross Development's war, but he already knew she wouldn't stay away.
She had a way of slipping past defenses he'd spent years perfecting.
He pressed the intercom. "David."
A crackle, then his driver's deep voice: "Yes, sir?"
"I need you to keep an eye on Maya again, throughout this week. Discreetly. And tomorrow, be ready.
There's a meeting on my calendar. I want you nearby."
"Understood."
The line clicked off. Zane picked up the photo again, stared at the smiling faces for a long beat, multiple emotions crossed his face, then he set it back down,this time face-up.
The war inside Cross Development was about to get messy. And somehow, Maya Alvarezz had become part of the battlefield. He hated the fact that she was going to end up in the cross fire, if extra care was not taken.
Enough waiting. If the threat had already brushed too close to Maya, he needed to know more about her vulnerabilities, especially her father.
"She's going to be trouble." he muttered again.
The more he thought about the whole situation, the more he was aware of his loneliness.
He thought about dialing the easy number on his phone, instead he closed the screen like poison, Maya's fiery eyes burning vividly in his mind.
As the city lights blinked like distant stars as he groaned to the empty room. "Too bad, I no longer mix business with pleasure."