Chapter Two (continued) – New Roots, Old Shadows.
The morning light poured through the hotel room windows in golden streaks. The city buzzed faintly below, but within the soft cocoon of silence, time had slowed.
Sebastian Whitaker sat on the edge of the bed, shirtless, his back to the woman still asleep beneath the sheets. His broad shoulders were tense, tattooed with faint scars the world never saw. He stared at his watch for a long moment, but his mind was nowhere near time or appointments
It was on her
Helen.
He hadn't expected her. He hadn't expected anything last night.
Yet now, as he listened to her soft breathing behind him, a sense of calm wrapped around his usually sharp nerves.
Helen Ross was nothing like the women in his world—calculating, curated, cold. She was warmth wrapped in sadness, strength buried beneath years of sacrifice. And there was something dangerous about the way she looked at him—not with awe, but with curiosity, with honesty. She made him feel seen.
That scared him more than he'd admit.
He ran a hand through his dark hair and exhaled
This wasn't just a one-night thing. He didn't know what it was yet—but it was something.
---
Over the next few weeks, Helen began to breathe again.
She didn't move back to the penthouse. She found a cozy brownstone in Brooklyn with ivy on the walls and light in the windows. She let herself cry. She let herself laugh. She surrounded herself with the only people who never asked her to be perfect.
Anita, fiery and loyal, who had been her best friend since college.
Elizabeth, calm and introspective, who had once been her therapist and became like a sister.
Lilian, bright and bold, who dragged Helen to brunches and yoga and forced her to reclaim joy in small doses.
With their support, Helen began dreaming again.
She started sketching—designs, fabrics, patterns that once lived in the back of her mind but now flowed like water. She always had an eye for style, but Steven never took her ideas seriously
Now, free from his shadow, she decided to risk it.
"Élan," she named the boutique. Meaning vitality, enthusiasm, spirit—all the things she was slowly rediscovering
The boutique opened in a quiet corner of Manhattan within three months—unexpectedly fast, but fueled by passion and her friends' unrelenting belief in her. What began as a small project quickly drew attention. Helen's designs were elegant, empowering, and deeply personal. They spoke to women like her—survivors of silence.
Photos of Helen, radiant and reinvented, began circulating in fashion blogs. The whispers turned into conversations. Orders flooded in.
And far across the city, in his increasingly cold penthouse, Steven Ross watched it all.
He clicked through the photos on his tablet—Helen at the boutique launch, her arm around Anita, laughing with Lilian, hugging Elizabeth. Her smile was effortless now. Real
Then there were the ones with Sebastian.
Steven had dismissed him at first—a rebound, a fling. But the more he watched, the more he realized this man wasn't just temporary. He was present. Protective. Attentive. Something Steven had never been.
Regret gnawed at him.
But regret wasn't strong enough to smother the jealousy—or the need for control.
He poured himself a drink and picked up his phone.
"Jennifer. I need a favor."
---
Jennifer Ross was elegance dipped in poison. Steven's sister, blonde and venomous, with a smile that never reached her eyes.
She listened carefully as Steven laid out the plan
"She's building something. A business. A life. And she's doing it with him. We can't let it last."
Jennifer smiled thinly. "What do you need from me?"
"Doubt," Steven said coldly. "Make her doubt him. She trusts him now. Break that. Get creative."
Jennifer already had a name in mind—a woman from Sebastian's past. An old flame. A messy lawsuit. Some shady business documents she could manipulate just enough.
She leaned back in her chair, tapping her manicured nails on the table.
"Don't worry, brother. By the time I'm done, Helen won't just walk away from him—she'll hate him.
---
And so, the lies began
Forged pape