The rain slammed against the city as if trying to break it open. Thunder rolled across the skyline, rattling the windows of Arclight Group headquarters. Inside the lobby, whispers spread like wildfire.
"Is that—?"
"No way… it can't be him—"
"But look at him. No one walks like that except Aiden Blackthorne."
Security straightened, but no one dared step in his path.
Aiden Blackthorne entered the building with the kind of power that didn't need announcing. Rain clung to his coat. His eyes were colder than the marble beneath his shoes. Five years of exile hadn't weakened him—they had turned him into a storm.
He didn't look at the crowd gathering behind him. He didn't need to. He walked straight into the elevator and pressed 42.
He had returned.
And everyone felt it.
On the 42nd floor, Siena Ardent was at her desk, flipping through reports when her secretary rushed in.
"M–Ms. Ardent… he's here."
Siena didn't look up. "Who?"
The elevator chimed.
Siena turned.
Her breath caught.
Aiden Blackthorne stepped out as if the entire floor still belonged to him. His shoulders broader. His jaw sharper. His presence overwhelming.
For a moment, Siena felt her heartbeat stutter. Then she locked her expression back into calm neutrality.
"You're trespassing," she said.
Aiden stopped at her doorway. His gaze hit her with a force she wasn't prepared for.
"Trespassing?" he repeated quietly. "On what was mine?"
Siena's jaw tightened. "That was yours. Five years ago."
He stepped closer, slow and unapologetic.
"You disappeared," she said. "You left everything. Including your position."
"And yet," Aiden murmured, "you're acting like you expected me."
A shiver ran through her—she hid it instantly.
"No one expected you back," she said. "Not after what happened."
Something flickered in his eyes—pain, anger—then vanished.
He placed a thick black file on her desk. "Read it."
"What is this?"
"The truth."
Siena hesitated, then opened it.
Her breath froze.
Pages of fabricated statements.
False evidence.
Manipulated reports.
And on the final page, the name printed boldly:
Zoren Drakov.
Her fingers tightened. "Zoren Drakov… he did this to you?"
Aiden didn't answer. He didn't need to.
Siena looked up, heart pounding. "The Board won't accept this easily."
"I already met with them," he said.
Her eyes widened. "You what?"
Aiden leaned in slightly, voice steady and low. "I came back to take what was stolen from me."
"And what does that have to do with me?" she asked.
Aiden stared at her for a long moment. Then his gaze slid briefly—almost dangerously—to her lips.
"Everything," he said quietly.
Her pulse faltered. She forced her voice steady.
"You think I'll help you?"
"No," he said. "I think you'll stay out of my way."
Anger sparked in her chest. "You don't get to warn me."
"I'm not warning you," Aiden replied. "I'm telling you how Zoren Drakov plays."
He turned to leave. Halfway through the door, he paused.
"Siena."
She stiffened.
"Don't cross Zoren," he said quietly. "He doesn't like loose ends."
"Aiden—"
"Stay safe."
The elevator doors closed, sealing the words between them.
Siena stood frozen, breath uneven. She stared again at the final page.
Zoren Drakov.
A name she hoped never to hear again.
Her phone buzzed.
A message appeared.
Unknown:
He returned.
How interesting.
I've missed you, Siena.
Her blood ran cold.
Zoren Drakov already knew Aiden was back.
And he had just marked her again.
Across the city, inside Blackthorne Mansion, a cane slammed against marble.
Magnus Blackthorne scowled at the storm outside.
"That boy returns without calling. I raised him better than this," he muttered.
Caleb sighed.
Lena crossed her arms.
Theo dropped his sandwich.
Aiden Blackthorne had returned.
And chaos was only beginning.