The city rose around her just like a glittering cathedral of glass and ambition.
Lianna stepped down from the luxurious black van, heels clicking sharply against the pavement, the sun catching on the polished white of her dress….the silk hugging her curves, the slit cutting dangerously up one leg. Her white heels tapped with calculated poise as she stood still for a moment, looking around.
Then her gaze lifted… to the building across the avenue.
The Vale Corp tower.
Her former home.
She slid her sunglasses down slowly, shielding her eyes from the sunlight….and maybe from memory, too.
She had signed the papers for this penthouse deliberately, knowing full well its location. She wasn't here by accident. She was here because of what it overlooked. Not to haunt him, but to remind herself that she could stand on her own. Above it all.
With a breath that sounded like triumph, she walked through the sleek lobby and took the private elevator up. The penthouse doors slid open to a palace in the sky…..white marble floors, crystal chandeliers, endless windows that caught the skyline just like a photograph mid-flash.
The chauffeur brought her bags in silence as she stepped inside, heels echoing .
She didn't say anything until she reached the couch….white, low-backed, artfully modern….and sat down just like a queen returning from exile.
But her mind wasn't here.
Not yet.
In her mind, she saw it all again.
The warmth of the oven.
She'd spent the day preparing his favorite—grilled seabass, saffron risotto, caramel custard. She even dimmed the lights just the way he liked.
Kian walked in late, still on the phone. A cold nod was all she got.
"I made dinner," she said gently, smiling with hope.
Kian didn't even look at her. His Bluetooth was still in. "Yeah. I'm on it. Reschedule the Singapore pitch."
He brushed past her.
Later, she found him in their room, on their bed, his laptop balanced on his thighs, typing furiously.
"You're really not going to touch the food?" she asked, her voice careful.
"I'm busy." he snapped. "Why are you making this a thing?"
She blinked.
"I wanted us to be together like we used to…"
She whispered the words aloud now, in her new home, still staring out at the glass skyline.
"I loved you. I still do. And that's what hurts the most."
—
Her phone buzzed.
Arin.
The one bright ember that never went out.
He was already downstairs.
"I just… thought I'd stop by," he said on the call, his voice careful. "You said you're across the estate. The maid helped me find it."
Lianna rushed to the door.
When she opened it, her breath caught.
Arin stood there in a hoodie and sneakers, taller now, more grown than she remembered, but his eyes….those warm, uncertain eyes….still looked like the boy she cradled after nightmares.
"Hey," he said.
She pulled him into a tight hug.
No words.
Just a tremble in her throat and the scent of him…..her son.
"You're really here," she whispered. "Come in."
They spent the evening on the front veranda, overlooking the city. A small outdoor dining set was laid out with comfort food….dumplings, spicy soup, and buttered rolls.
Arin laughed mid-bite. "You remembered my favorite."
Lianna smiled. "I remember everything."
They sat there for a long time, plates half-finished, the sky bleeding violet and gold, wind gently moving her hair.
Together, they turned to look at the distant Vale residence.
The lights were on.
And from across the building:…
Kian was watching in surprise.
He stood behind tinted glass, a tumbler of scotch in one hand, his other hand gripping the curtain.
He watched them….his ex-wife and his son….laughing together, sharing a dinner. His family. Together. Without him
His fingers raked through his thick dark hair in frustration.
Then their eyes met.
Just a second.
But she saw him.
Lianna met his gaze….and smiled.
A small, elegant, haunting smile.
Kian stepped back as if scorched.
—
Late that night, as the city slept, her intercom buzzed.
A concierge delivered a parcel.
No name.
No card.
Just a thin, square box wrapped in black.
She opened it slowly.
Inside….a torn wedding photo.
Her smile and Kian's….ripped perfectly down the middle. Right between their joined hands.
Lianna's breath hitched.
Then her fingers closed around the torn photo… and her expression turned unreadable.
——
Juno stood at the edge of Lianna's office, tablet in hand, face unreadable.
"They're trying to contest the clause," she said. "Vale's lawyers. Claiming the non-compete should've expired or been misfiled. They're digging."
Lianna didn't look up right away. She continued typing calmly on her laptop, the tapping of the keys echoing through the vast, glass-walled office.
Then, a slow smile.
"Let them try," she murmured. "They're ten years too late."
—
An hour later, a cream envelope was hand-delivered to her floor by someone from Crowe Capital.
Inside: a formal invitation sealed with wax.
"Black Gold Gala …hosted by Crowe Capital. Join me. D.C."
That night, she stepped out of the car in a dress that made the entire valet line go quiet.
Red. Deep. Deliberate. The color of blood and power. The silk wrapped her body, low-cut in the back, slit high on one thigh, the bodice sculpted to frame her curves. A pair of diamond-studded red stilettos completed the look.
Her hair fell in soft waves past her shoulders, a bold red lip matching the gown.
Damian Crowe met her at the entrance, tall and devastating in a sharp black tuxedo, his arm immediately wrapping around hers.
"Lianna," he said, eyes scanning every inch of her, "you look like every man's fantasy and every rival's nightmare."
She smiled. "That was the goal."
They entered the ballroom together….two empires walking side by side. Every head turned. Conversations paused. Phones were quietly lifted.
She felt the power. She felt seen.
And then….she felt him.
—-
Kian Vale had arrived.
Uninvited.
On his arm: Cassandra.
Her dress was practically like a second skin…silver, tight, and obscenely short, her toned thighs on full display. Blonde hair swept up into a high ponytail that screamed youth and intention. She clung to Kian like she belonged there, lips too close to his ear, laughing far too loud.
Lianna's chest tightened.
Just for a moment.
Her gaze locked on Kian's face.
Stoic. Cold. And yet… his eyes lingered on her red dress longer than they should have.
Lianna blinked. Looked away.
Her mind whispered a brutal truth she hadn't wanted to face until now:
She was the reason he'd been distant during their marriage. Cassandra. The whispered calls, the unexplained absences.
Damian leaned in. "Want me to have them thrown out?"
Lianna took a slow sip of champagne.
"No," she said. "Let them stay. They should see what loss looks like."
—
Later, near the bar, the moment finally came.
Kian turned a corner….and came face-to-face with Damian.
No words.
Just locked eyes.
Two alphas. Two legacies. One woman between them.
Kian's jaw flexed. Damian straightened his cufflink.
The tension hit ..
"You must be Vale," Damian said, his tone just as cool as the glass in his hand.
Kian gave a tight nod. "And you're the vulture who shows up after the fire."
"I prefer to think of myself as the phoenix," Damian replied. "But I suppose it depends on your perspective."
Kian's voice dropped. "Perspective can change fast… especially when someone's standing in my place."
Damian's smile thinned. "Then maybe you should've valued it while you had it."
From across the room, Lianna watched.
Unmoving.
Eyes sharp. Heart steady.
She knew, in that moment, what was coming.
This wasn't over.
It was only just beginning.