Aidan's offer lingered in Elina's mind like the taste of bitter wine—intoxicating and dangerous. It wasn't just about reconciliation. It wasn't even about trust. It was about control. Influence. Redemption. And maybe, just maybe, revenge.
After everything, he still thought they could fight on the same side.
But Elina Lane didn't walk into alliances blindly anymore. Not after what it had cost her.
She left Blackstone Capital without giving him an answer, her expression unreadable. But inside, her thoughts moved like sharpened gears—clicking into place with purpose.
Harper was waiting at the car, her brows knit with tension.
"What happened?" she asked the moment Elina slid into the backseat.
"I saw the prototype," Elina murmured. "And Aidan's mother."
Harper blinked. "You met her?"
"She was lucid… for about thirty seconds. Called me pretty. Asked if I was the girl he liked."
Harper let out a long whistle. "That's... weirdly sweet and tragic."
Elina didn't respond. Her thoughts were elsewhere.
"It works," she finally said. "The tech we designed, it's stabilizing cognitive regression. He wasn't lying about that."
Harper tilted her head. "So what now? Do we call a press conference and announce he's not Satan?"
"No," Elina said, her tone flinty. "Just because he's capable of love doesn't mean he's incapable of betrayal. Don't forget who funded the hostile acquisition."
"Right," Harper muttered, crossing her arms. "So, we spy. We collect data. We burn them slowly."
Elina gave her a ghost of a smile. "Exactly."
They spent the next forty-eight hours setting traps.
Harper encrypted their files, rerouted their location IPs, and sent anonymous requests to whistleblower forums under fake identities. Elina composed a coded pitch to a disgruntled tech journalist who owed her a favor—someone who hated Blackstone more than he loved sensational headlines.
And still, the silence from Aidan gnawed at her.
He hadn't reached out again.
She didn't know if that was strategy... or restraint.
But either way, she didn't trust it.
By the third morning, Harper slammed her laptop shut.
"Okay, I just traced a shell corporation to a ghost director named 'John Tiernan.' He's tied to offshore accounts in Malta, the Caymans, and... guess where? Iceland."
Elina's brows rose. "Nexlin's patent repository is based in Iceland."
"Exactly," Harper said. "Which means they're not just buying our tech—they're trying to clone it."
"That's illegal."
"Barely," Harper snorted. "But with enough lobbying, you could make it legal in six months. You know how these devils work."
Elina stood, pacing. "Then we leak the truth before that happens."
Harper hesitated. "It could get you blacklisted forever."
"Already am."
"You could get sued."
"I have nothing left to lose."
Harper paused. "Except Aidan."
Elina froze.
That name—spoken like a warning and a temptation.
"I'm not his to lose," she said softly. "Not anymore."
—
Later that evening, Elina found herself walking the edge of Central Park, her coat wrapped tight against the wind. Her mind churned, weighed down by strategy and emotion.
She hadn't expected to feel anything for Aidan anymore. But seeing him again—hearing the quiet desperation in his voice, the way he still looked at her like she was the only thing he couldn't outmaneuver—it was enough to shake her.
But feelings were luxuries now. She had a war to win.
"Elina," came a voice behind her.
She turned slowly.
Aidan stood there, no bodyguards this time. Just him. A man haunted by his choices, and still unafraid of shadows.
"You've been avoiding me," he said.
"I've been planning," she replied.
He walked closer. "I meant what I said. I want your partnership. I need it."
"I'm not your savior."
"No," he said, his voice low. "But you're the only one who sees the battlefield clearly."
She folded her arms. "And you're the one who helped burn it down."
Aidan looked away, his jaw clenched. "I was trying to save her."
"And you sacrificed me instead."
"I didn't know the board would turn on you so fast," he said, frustration edging into his voice. "You don't think I fought behind the scenes? I begged them to reconsider. I offered to take the fall—"
"You didn't fight," Elina snapped. "You negotiated. That's what you always do, Aidan. Even in love."
That hit him like a slap. But he didn't deny it.
"I regret it every day," he said. "But I can't undo what happened. I can only offer you something now."
She looked at him, eyes narrowed. "What?"
He pulled out a small flash drive and held it out.
"This is the original agreement the board signed when Blackstone acquired Nexlin's assets," he said. "It includes a clause they've been hiding—proof that your intellectual property was unlawfully repurposed."
Elina stared at it.
"Why are you giving this to me?"
"Because they're not just coming after Nexlin anymore," he said. "They're coming after you. They want to silence you completely. Kill your credibility. Ruin your future."
"And you just decided to care?"
"I never stopped," he whispered.
She took the drive, her fingers brushing his.
"Don't mistake guilt for love," she said.
But her voice trembled.
—
That night, she couldn't sleep.
The flash drive sat on her desk, like a ticking bomb. She hadn't opened it yet. Not out of fear—but out of instinct. She wanted to verify everything first, on her own terms.
Harper sat cross-legged on the floor, nursing a mug of tea.
"So," she said, "is this the part where you forgive the enemy and kiss in the rain, or the part where you use him to take down his empire?"
"Both," Elina said dryly.
Harper grinned. "Queen behavior."
Elina paced. "We'll launch our leak in two stages. First, expose the offshore accounts tied to the patent theft. Then release evidence of the clause in the acquisition papers. We'll time it with the next Blackstone press event."
Harper nodded. "We could go live in 72 hours."
"And if they retaliate?"
"We're ready."
Elina glanced toward the window, the city glittering like a thousand secrets.
She didn't know how this war would end.
But for the first time in years… she was in control of the narrative.
And that was a power no one could steal again.