Jace didn't sleep.
Not after that.
Not after hearing a voice at the front door that reeked of danger. Not after seeing Elara collapse against the wall like the wind had been knocked out of her soul.
She hadn't cried.
She hadn't panicked.
But the way she stood there gripping that file—like it was a bomb ticking in her hand—told him all he needed to know.
This wasn't over.
When morning came, the kitchen was empty.
He checked her room. Still locked.
The lounge? Empty.
He searched the entire penthouse until finally he found her on the rooftop terrace—barefoot in a robe, hair loose, a cigarette between her fingers.
"I didn't know you smoked," he said.
Elara didn't flinch. Didn't even turn around. "I don't. I only do it when I'm trying not to remember."
"Remember what?"
A long pause.
Then: "Everything."
Jace moved toward her.
"You're going to meet him tonight, aren't you?" he asked quietly.
She didn't deny it.
He stood beside her now, eyes scanning her profile.
"What does he have on you, Elara?"
"Too much."
He looked at the folder tucked under her other arm.
"Let me help you."
She gave a bitter smile. "Help me how? With fists and threats and loyalty I haven't earned?"
"Yes," he said simply.
She turned to him, finally.
Her eyes were tired. Her mouth was set.
"You can't protect me from this."
"Try me."
"He has pictures. Documents. Things I buried to keep my father's legacy intact."
"Is it about the building?"
She shook her head. "It's about the people I hurt trying to keep it."
That gave him pause.
He studied her.
"Tell me what's in that file."
"No."
"Elara—"
She stepped back. "You think you want to know. But you don't. Once you do, you'll leave."
"I won't."
"You will," she whispered. "They all do."
Later that day, she came out dressed like a weapon.
Black silk blouse. High-waisted pants. Crimson heels. Hair in a sleek bun. A silver pendant that matched the ring on her finger.
She looked like a queen going to war.
He stood in front of the elevator before she could reach it.
"I'm coming with you."
"No."
He didn't move. "Then you're not going."
Her jaw clenched. "I don't need a bodyguard."
"Too bad," he said. "Because you've got one."
They stared at each other for a long moment.
Then she pressed the button.
He stepped in beside her.
She didn't stop him.
The Blackridge Hotel was exactly what he expected—sleek, dark, expensive, and dripping with quiet corruption. The kind of place men with secrets liked to do their business.
She walked in like she belonged. No hesitation. No fear.
But he saw the twitch in her fingers. The stiffness in her shoulders.
Room 1903 was at the far end of the 19th floor. The hallway was silent, except for the soft click of her heels.
She stopped in front of the door.
"Wait here," she said.
"No."
"Jace—"
"I'm not letting you go in there alone."
"If you go in with me, he'll know he still has power."
"He does have power," Jace said. "You're just pretending he doesn't."
She turned to him, frustrated. "This isn't your fight."
"I made it mine the second you kissed me."
She opened her mouth—but the door creaked open from inside.
And he was there.
Tall. Broad. Expensive suit. Slick hair. Empty smile.
The kind of man who used words like razors and charm like poison.
"Elara," he said smoothly. "And the stray puppy you picked up. How sweet."
Jace stiffened.
Elara held out her hand.
"The file."
The man gestured inside. "Come. Sit. Let's talk first."
She hesitated.
Then stepped forward.
Jace followed.
The room was dimly lit, thick with cologne and malice. A bottle of scotch on the table. Leather chairs.
The man poured himself a drink.
"Do you know who I am, kid?" he asked Jace.
"I don't care."
He chuckled. "Bold. But stupid."
He turned to Elara. "You didn't tell him, did you?"
"Give me the file, Raymond."
Raymond.
Jace locked the name into his memory.
"Elara used to be mine," he said to Jace, ignoring her. "Before she decided power looked better on her than on my arm."
"I wasn't yours," she said coldly. "I was your investment. One you thought you could control."
He smiled. "Control isn't a dirty word. Not if you know how to wield it."
He slid a black envelope across the table.
"Inside is a copy of what I have. Photos. Wire transfers. Letters."
Elara reached for it.
"Not so fast," Raymond said. "You know the price."
She looked at him.
Expression unreadable.
Jace saw her fingers twitch.
"What price?" he asked.
Raymond leaned back. "One night."
The air turned to ice.
"What?" Jace said slowly.
Raymond smiled. "Just dinner. Drinks. And a few hours to remind her who she used to be."
"You're out of your mind."
"It's a choice," Raymond said to her. "Give me what I want. Or I take this file straight to the board. You know what they'll do if they find out the real reason your father stepped down."
Elara looked down.
The mask cracked.
Just for a moment.
"I'll go," she said.
"No," Jace said, stepping between them. "You're not doing this."
"I have to."
"You don't."
"I do."
Her voice shook.
Raymond grinned. "See? She remembers how to obey."
That was it.
Jace lunged.
He slammed Raymond against the wall before the man could blink, fist curling into his shirt.
"Say one more word, and I'll throw you off this balcony."
"Jace—" Elara hissed. "Let him go!"
Raymond laughed. "Touch me and you'll only make things worse for her."
Jace's voice dropped.
"If you ever come near her again, I'll burn down every inch of your legacy."
Raymond sneered. "You're nothing."
Jace smiled. "And you're scared of nothing. That's the problem."
He let go.
Raymond adjusted his collar and walked calmly back to the chair.
"Elara," he said. "You have until Friday. My terms won't change."
Then he looked at Jace.
"You can't protect her forever."
They left without another word.
Back in the elevator, Elara said nothing.
Jace broke first.
"What's in that file?"
She didn't look at him. "Proof that I blackmailed one of my father's partners into stepping down after he tried to ruin us."
Jace blinked. "You blackmailed him?"
"I did worse," she whispered. "I used his son."
The silence slammed between them.
"I pretended to love him. To get the documents I needed. Then I leaked them anonymously. It destroyed their family. Ruined their business. Sent the man to prison."
"And the son?"
She swallowed. "I never saw him again."
Jace exhaled.
"Why?"
"Because I was twenty-two, and desperate, and scared—and brilliant," she said bitterly. "I did what I had to. I saved this empire. But I became someone I hate."
He looked at her.
At the pain she carried like a second skin.
"Elara…"
She turned to him. "Now do you understand why I can't let you stay?"
"No," he said simply.
She blinked.
He stepped closer.
"I don't care what you did. You survived. You fought back. You made the people who tried to crush you regret it."
She shook her head. "You don't get it."
"I do. You're not a villain, Elara. You're just a woman who's been pushed too far, too many times. And I'm not letting some ghost from your past make you feel like you don't deserve to be held."
She stared at him.
Eyes wide.
Then she whispered—
"Then hold me."