He leaned toward me, whispering, "I'll be right back," before rising from his seat and following his father through the hallway and into the old study room—the same one Leo said his father rarely used unless it was for serious conversations.
The door shut behind them with a soft click.
Inside the study, the air was thicker, filled with the scent of old leather and cedarwood polish. The morning light spilled across the dark shelves, glinting against brass bookends and framed accolades. Chairman Cyprus moved slowly to the tall window before turning, his gaze heavy.
"I didn't want to bring this up during breakfast," he began, voice low and even, ""While you were away—settling things with Melody's family—there was some noise."
Leo tilted his head, calm but alert. "Noise?"
"Genna," his father said curtly. "She's been stirring up rumors again. Talking to some press media, hinting at old connections between you two. Some were foolish enough to believe her, but I've… silenced most of it."
Leo's jaw tensed. "She's really doing this again?"
"Apparently, she assumed your engagement was either fake or temporary. She's bitter. Possibly desperate."
Leo exhaled sharply through his nose, eyes narrowing. "If she dares to drag Melody into her mess—"
"She won't," the Chairman cut in. "Not if I can help it. But I wanted you to know before it gets to her ears. I've already instructed the PR team to clean up anything that leaks. So far, nothing damaging has made it public."
Leo's voice turned cold. "If she causes one more crack in Melody's peace—she's done. I'll make sure of it."
Chairman Cyprus studied him, his expression unreadable. "You've changed."
"I've chosen what matters," Leo replied. "And I won't let anyone twist that into a scandal. Especially not Genna."
The Chairman gave a slight nod of approval. "Good. Handle it as you see fit. But don't let your guard down. She may be quiet now, but snakes like her don't sleep for long."
Leo gave a tight nod. "Understood."
For a long moment, father and son stood in mutual silence—two powerful men prepared to protect what they valued. Then, the Chairman stepped aside, motioning toward the door.
"Now go. Your woman's waiting."
Leo gave a faint smirk as he turned and walked back toward the light.
Leo stepped back into the dining room with that signature coolness he always wore in public, but his eyes searched for me the moment he crossed the threshold. When they found mine, something shifted—there was a flash of protectiveness there, something sharp and unspoken.
I offered a small smile as he took his seat, and under the table, his fingers found mine and gave a gentle squeeze.
But whatever comfort that moment held was short-lived.
The Next Day
It was just after noon when she showed up—unannounced, uninvited.
Genna.
I was alone at the café near the office, waiting for Leo, sipping from a tall iced drink when I heard the heels—those sharp, deliberate clicks that always announced someone who craved attention.
She strutted in like she owned the place, all fake smiles and glossed lips, her designer dress fluttering slightly from the breeze behind her.
"Melody," she said sweetly, pulling her sunglasses down just enough to meet my eyes. "Oh, how quaint. Waiting alone again, are we?"
I blinked. "Genna." I kept my tone neutral, but my grip tightened around my glass.
She pulled out the chair across from me and sat without asking, crossing her legs like she was posing for a magazine cover. "I thought I'd say hello. Catch up. After all… we have so much in common now. We've both had Leo wrapped around our fingers at one point."
I tilted my head. "You mean when you were busy turning his life into a PR nightmare?"
Her smile froze. "Touché. But you know, things weren't all that bad. We had... moments." She leaned closer, her voice dipping into a whisper. "I wonder how long you'll last before he gets bored."
I took a breath and stood, grabbing my glass.
She laughed lightly. "Oh, don't be dramatic, sweetheart. I'm just giving you a taste of reality. Leo's always been mine in the end—"
Splash.
The cold water hit her face in a single clean motion. Gasps erupted around us.
Genna shot up from her seat, shrieking. "You—"
"Careful," I said quietly, meeting her fury with calm. "The next thing I throw might not be water."
She was trembling with anger, wiping her face with the back of her manicured hand—when Leo entered.
He froze at the scene—his eyes flicked from me, calm but firm, to Genna, dripping and disheveled.
"Leo!" she cried, instantly switching masks. Her voice turned soft, broken. "She just… I was trying to talk to her nicely, and she attacked me—"
Leo's jaw clenched. "I heard enough before I came in."
She blinked, startled. "You… heard?"
"You never learned to lower your voice," he said coldly, walking to my side. His arm instinctively went around my waist.
Genna's voice broke. "Leo, please. I came here because I miss you. Because I still— I made a mistake before, I know that. But she's not right for you. Can't you see that?"
Leo's grip tightened. "You need to leave, Genna. Before I make it official that you're banned from every building Dre.@im owns."
Her lips quivered. "You're choosing her? After everything?"
"I'm not choosing anyone," he said. "I chose her. Long ago. You just refused to accept it."
Her expression cracked—something monstrous underneath her beauty surfaced for just a second, but then she turned away with a choked sob, staggering out as though she'd been the victim.
Silence fell again.
Leo turned to me, his hand brushing my cheek, eyes scanning for any signs of hurt. "Did she do anything else?"
"No," I whispered. "But if she tries again…"
"She won't," he said, voice dark. "If she does—I'll make sure her entire world turns upside down."
Then he kissed my forehead, and right there in the middle of the stunned café, I knew something shifted between us. Not just love—but war. And we were ready for both.
Two days passed in a deceptive calm.
Leo remained composed, keeping his usual schedule—though I could tell he was staying even more alert, shadowing me with subtle precautions: his driver started picking me up from work, and one of his security personnel began posing as a barista near my favorite coffee shop.
I appreciated it.
I hated that we needed it.
But Genna wasn't done.
She never came at us directly again—no more confrontations, no more screaming matches. Instead, she took the mask she'd always worn and made it her armor.
It started with an article.
A carefully worded blog post from a popular lifestyle site known for its "celebrity whispers." It painted Genna as a misunderstood former lover of Leo Cyprus—a woman who had loved and lost in silence, only to find her heartbreak reawakened when he "rushed into a new relationship."
It never mentioned me by name, but the message was clear: Leo's new girlfriend stole him away from the woman who still loved him.
Comments exploded. Fan theories bloomed. Some people even started comparing me to Genna like we were candidates in some toxic popularity contest.
Leo saw it first.
He stormed into his office, lips pressed into a hard line, the printed article clenched in his fist. "She's playing martyr now," he growled.
"She knows how to manipulate the public," I said softly. "She's weaponizing pity."
And she wasn't done.
The following night, Leo was scheduled to attend a charity gala. He invited me to come. I almost declined—public events weren't really my thing—but something told me I had to go.
That's when Genna made her move.
She arrived in a floor-length gown of champagne silk—flawless, radiant, press-ready. She made sure to arrive just after us, knowing cameras would catch us both in the same shot.
But she didn't come toward Leo.
She went straight to the event host—a CEO she'd known during her modeling days—and offered a donation under her name. Then she laughed. Sparkled. Whispered to a few paparazzi.
Minutes later, a photographer came up to us with a sly grin. "Mind if I get a photo of the three of you? Exes and now—you know, for the headlines?"
Leo didn't even look at him. "Delete that photo. Now."
The photographer flinched but obeyed.
Still, the damage was done.
Back inside, we tried to ignore her—until I stepped away to take a call and found Genna waiting for me near the back entrance, veiled by hanging lights and white drapes.
"Lovely night, isn't it?" she purred.
I kept my expression guarded. "What do you want now?"
Her eyes gleamed, cool and cruel. "I just wanted to say thank you."
"For what?"
"For making Leo so protective of you," she smiled. "You've made him more volatile. More… alive. He used to be so careful with his image. Now look at him—burning bridges, threatening people. How romantic."
"You're sick."
"Am I?" she stepped closer. "Or just honest about what it takes to hold onto someone powerful?"
I stared her down. "You think you're winning, don't you?"
"Oh, darling," she whispered, her smile almost tender, "I'm not trying to win. I'm just making sure if I go down, I take something beautiful with me."
She turned to the side table behind her, picked up a second glass—mine, apparently—and stepped toward me, holding it out.
"To your future," she said gently. "To your happiness… together."
I didn't reach for the drink.
Her lashes fluttered. "Don't be rude. It's a toast. From one woman to another."
But I could see it.
Barely perceptible, but real: the way her fingertips clung a little too tightly to the base of the glass. The faintest shimmer at the rim—not lipstick, not the usual gloss of chilled wine. Something off. Something wrong.
My stomach twisted, but I kept my expression neutral.
Instead of taking the glass, I slowly reached for mine from earlier—the one I'd left near the edge of the couch before I took that call. "I already have one," I said, raising it slightly. "But cheers, Genna."
Her eyes flickered.
Just for a second.
Then she smiled wider. "Ah. Of course."
We clinked glasses, and I sipped mine.
She didn't touch hers.
We stood there in tense silence. The lounge felt colder than it should have. From outside, the hum of the crowd continued, oblivious to the battle of wits happening in this gilded cage.
Then she leaned in.
Whispers soft and sinister against my ear. "You're clever. That's why he likes you. But clever doesn't always win, Melody. Sometimes it just… survives."
I stepped back slowly. "What did you put in it?"
Her expression didn't change. "Nothing fatal. Just something to give you a little… shake. Like a warning bell."
"Why?" I asked, my voice steady despite the fury building in my chest. "To prove you're dangerous?"
"No," she whispered. "To remind you I'm still here."
I stared at her, hatred simmering just below my calm. "You're not the threat you think you are. You're just a shadow begging for light."
A beat of silence.
Then Genna smiled, lifted the glass she'd meant for me, and with theatrical elegance, poured it out on the nearby planter.
"Shame," she said, setting the empty glass down with a gentle click. "It was a vintage year."