Mag-log inRain fell in icy sheets outside the penthouse windows, casting shadows across the room like broken glass. Lena sat on the edge of Rafael’s bed, scrolling through security reports and surveillance logs. None of it made sense.“How do they keep getting in?” she murmured.“Someone’s giving them access,” Rafael said, emerging from the closet in a crisp black shirt and slacks. His hair was still damp from the shower, and the tension in his jaw hadn’t softened since the photo message. “They’re not just watching us—they’re inside.”“Then we need to flush them out.”He paused, met her eyes. “Are you sure you’re ready for that?”“I didn’t come this far to flinch now.”By noon, they were back at Wyatt Enterprises. Lena wore a sleek maroon dress and heels that clicked like warning shots on the marble floors. Her presence sent a ripple through the staff.This time, she didn’t flinch.Rafael had cleared the executive floor except for a small handful of trusted advisors, including Devon Miles, his
The Manhattan skyline shimmered like a crown of glass and steel as Rafael’s private jet descended through streaks of early morning cloud. Below, the city pulsed with its usual frenetic energy—except this time, Lena wasn’t just visiting.She was stepping onto a battlefield.Rafael stood by the window of the jet, arms folded, his jaw carved in stone. Lena sat across from him, a tablet in her lap displaying floor plans of Wyatt Enterprises’ upper floors.“So Monica had access to the encrypted employee contact list,” she said, tapping her finger. “She could’ve passed your number to anyone. Or—she is the one feeding them everything.”“She had no clearance for executive files,” Rafael muttered. “But Mira did.”Lena looked up. “You still think Mira’s involved?”“I don’t want to,” he said softly. “But she was closer to my life than anyone before you. If she wanted to hurt me, she knows exactly how.”Lena swallowed the jealousy burning in her throat. “Then let’s make sure she doesn’t get the c
The Manhattan skyline shimmered like a crown of glass and steel as Rafael’s private jet descended through streaks of early morning cloud. Below, the city pulsed with its usual frenetic energy—except this time, Lena wasn’t just visiting.She was stepping onto a battlefield.Rafael stood by the window of the jet, arms folded, his jaw carved in stone. Lena sat across from him, a tablet in her lap displaying floor plans of Wyatt Enterprises’ upper floors.“So Monica had access to the encrypted employee contact list,” she said, tapping her finger. “She could’ve passed your number to anyone. Or—she is the one feeding them everything.”“She had no clearance for executive files,” Rafael muttered. “But Mira did.”Lena looked up. “You still think Mira’s involved?”“I don’t want to,” he said softly. “But she was closer to my life than anyone before you. If she wanted to hurt me, she knows exactly how.”Lena swallowed the jealousy burning in her throat. “Then let’s make sure she doesn’t get the c
Lena sat upright in bed, heart pounding.The message still burned on her phone screen.“You think she was the only one?”The grainy night-vision photo of a figure on the villa wall chilled her to the bone.She reached for Rafael.He stirred, still half-asleep. “What’s wrong?”She showed him the phone.In seconds, he was alert, grabbing for his own. “Who else has this number?”“No one except you and Mira,” she whispered.His jaw clenched.He got out of bed and pulled on a pair of dark slacks, pacing barefoot across the hardwood. “The property has perimeter alarms. No breach alerts. Whoever that was… knew how to move without triggering them.”Lena slid off the bed, wrapping the sheet around her. “Do you think Mira sent someone?”“No.” He glanced at her. “She doesn’t have access to this house.”“But someone else does?”He hesitated.She narrowed her eyes. “Rafael.”“I haven’t been here in months,” he said finally. “But when my father cut me off years ago, this was the only place I could
Lena didn’t knock.She stormed into Mira’s office like a woman possessed, the door slamming behind her with a crack that silenced everyone in the hallway.Mira looked up from her laptop, startled—then wary. “Lena.”Lena held up her phone. “Cole Harmon. Ring a bell?”Mira’s expression didn’t change—but her fingers curled just slightly on the desk.“I know who he is,” she said slowly.“And you met him,” Lena said, voice sharp. “Two nights ago. You handed him something. Then lied to my face.”Mira stood, posture cold. “Lower your voice.”“No.” Lena slammed the phone on the desk. “I trusted you. Rafael trusted you.”Mira crossed her arms. “And I’ve done nothing but protect him.”“You gave information to Tyson’s fixer.”“It wasn’t his fixer I was meeting,” Mira snapped. “Not at first. Cole and I had a deal years ago—he owed me. I thought he could help me find Tyson’s next move. But he turned. Tried to leverage what I gave him.”Lena narrowed her eyes. “What did you give him?”Mira hesitate
Lena stared at the video, her grip tightening on the phone as it played on loop.Mira.Meeting a man in a dark alley.Handing something over—an envelope, maybe.Looking over her shoulder.The angle was grainy. The sound distorted. But it was her. And the timestamp was from two nights ago—the same night Rafael’s past was leaked.A hand touched Lena’s shoulder.“Lena?” Rafael’s voice was warm and sleep-heavy. He’d just stepped out of the shower, a towel slung low around his waist, skin still damp.She quickly turned off the screen.He noticed. “What was that?”She forced a smile. “Nothing. Just spam.”But her mind was racing. Why would Mira—Rafael’s most loyal ally, the one who’d been shielding them from Tyson at every turn—be caught sneaking around with a stranger?Unless she wasn’t shielding them at all.Unless she was playing both sides.Rafael moved behind her, pressed a kiss to her neck. “You okay?”No.But she couldn’t tell him. Not yet.“Yeah,” she lied. “Just tired.”He pulled h
The Monday after the gala felt unreal.Lena’s phone hadn’t stopped buzzing. Pictures from the party had exploded across the internet. Headlines read:“Who’s the Mystery Woman on Rafael Blackthorne’s Arm?”“From Assistant to It Girl? Meet Lena Carter.”“Power Couple in the Making?”Lena groaned and
By the time Thursday rolled around, Lena had almost convinced herself she was surviving billionaire life.She hadn’t been fired. She hadn’t set the building on fire. She only accidentally forwarded one confidential file to an intern, which Rafael had laughed off—barely.Then came the invitation.No
Lena Carter had survived angry drunk customers, broken espresso machines, and a literal kitchen fire at her old diner job. She thought she could handle anything.That was before she walked into Blackthorne Enterprises at exactly 8:59 AM and was immediately swallowed whole by a sea of glass, tension
Lena stared at the sleek black business card for the fourth time that morning.Blackthorne Enterprises. 77th Floor. Midtown Tower.It sat like a dare on her nightstand, taunting her with promises she had no business entertaining.Ten thousand dollars a week. That was the offer.She could clear her







