The moment Alexander's text burned across Selene's phone screen, the noise of the press conference receded into something muted, almost underwater.
"If you want to destroy Kieran Wolfe, meet me at midnight. Come alone."
Her pulse gave a sharp, painful kick. It was Alexander. Same clean, precise phrasing he used in business emails, but this time, the precision cut like a blade.
She slipped the phone into her palm and forced her features into the perfect, camera-ready smile she'd worn since birth. Not for Kieran. Not for the wolves snapping photos. But because she knew she could never let him see her flinch.
Kieran's arm was still looped around her waist, his hand steady, warm, infuriatingly calm. The crowd's questions flew at him in rapid fire. Mergers, joint ventures, speculation about a power couple taking the city by storm. He fielded them like a man in his element.
And Selene realized this was his element. Public domination, quiet control, the manipulation of narratives.
When the conference ended, he guided her toward the exit, speaking low so only she could hear.
"You didn't like that dress," he said, not asking. Stating.
"I didn't like being paraded," she replied without looking at him.
He smirked. "Parades make people remember you. And right now, I need the world to remember you as mine."
They stepped into the limousine waiting at the curb. Selene slid in first, carefully positioning herself so the folds of her crimson dress didn't wrinkle. Another habit drilled into her from years of high-society appearances.
The doors shut. The tinted windows turned the world outside into a blur of light and shadow.
"Tell me something," she said after a moment. "If you already had my father cornered, why bother me with all of this?" She gestured at the gown, the cameras, the press conference.
Kieran's gaze flicked to her, sharp and assessing. "Control is an art form, Selene. The cage is one thing. The performance inside it? That's what keeps people from trying to break the bars."
She tilted her head. "Or maybe you just like owning things."
"I don't like it," he said softly. "I require it."
When they returned, the manor felt colder than the first night. She'd spent years walking into rooms and reading them instantly, understanding who held the real power, who was bluffing, who could be used.
Kieran was different. His spaces didn't just hold his power, they reflected it back at her, polished to a mirror sheen.
The household staff moved like shadows. Precise, efficient, silent. No one met her gaze for longer than a second.
Kieran disappeared into his office without a word. Selene remained in the foyer, watching the double doors shut behind him, her mind moving quickly.
Alexander's message replayed in her head. If you want to destroy Kieran Wolfe…
She should delete it. She should burn the phone, erase the thought, because if Kieran ever finds out, it will be disastrous.
Her phone buzzed again. Same number.
"If you're coming, wear black. Do not bring security. Do not tell anyone. Midnight, Pier 7."
She typed back before her better judgment could interfere " Why should I trust you?"
A pause, then came the reply "Because I know where the video came from."
The rest of the day blurred into a strange kind of limbo. Lunch served in the solarium. She barely touched it. Kieran's staff bringing her an array of outfits she rejected all of them.
By 6:00 p.m., the city skyline burned gold outside the windows. She sat in the bedroom, the crimson gown now draped across a chair like a warning flag.
She tried to read, but every word blurred into the shape of Alexander's messages. She checked the time again. 6:14 p.m. The hours crawled.
At 8:00 p.m., Kieran appeared in the doorway. He had changed into something less formal though still tailored, still sharp, but with the quiet elegance of someone who didn't need to try.
"Dinner," he said.
"I'm not hungry," she replied.
He studied her. "You're distracted."
"Maybe I'm just bored."
"Boredom can be dangerous in the wrong hands," he said, moving into the room. He stopped close enough that she could smell the faint scent of his cologne. Something clean, expensive, edged with spice. "Tell me what's keeping you up here instead of downstairs."
She met his gaze evenly. "You're not the only one who keeps secrets, Kieran."
For a moment, something flickered behind his eyes. Amusement? Or a warning?
"Careful, Selene," he murmured. "Some secrets eat their keepers alive."
She waited until 11:15 p.m when she heard the faint click of Kieran's office door close for the night. Then she moved.
The gown was out of the question. She chose black, slim trousers, silk blouse, leather jacket. She pinned her hair up, swapped her phone for a smaller one she kept hidden in her luggage, and slipped on flat shoes.
The staff didn't question her when she walked through the hallways. Another advantage of looking like you belonged wherever you were.
The gates loomed ahead, their steel edges glinting under the security lights. She waited until the patrol car turned the corner before slipping through the pedestrian side gate.
The night air was sharp, carrying the smell of rain and the salt of the nearby harbor.
The pier was mostly empty, the kind of place you wouldn't walk alone unless you had a death wish or a very good reason.
Alexander stood near the end, back to her, hands in his pockets. His suit jacket was gone, his shirt sleeves rolled to the elbows. The wind tugged at his hair, making him look more dangerous than she remembered.
"You came," he said without turning.
"You invited me," she replied.
When he faced her, his eyes swept over her in quick appraisal not desire, not exactly. More like a strategist assessing his newest piece on the board.
"You want to know where that video came from," he said. "You think it was Kieran. It wasn't."
She crossed her arms. "You expect me to believe that?"
"I expect you to listen," he said sharply. "Your father's been involved in things you don't know about. That video? It's a fraction of what's out there. And Kieran..." He paused, as if measuring his next words. "Kieran didn't make it. He bought it."
She frowned. "From who?"
Alexander's gaze hardened. "From someone who wants both your family and Kieran destroyed. Someone with the resources to make it happen."
The air between them thickened.
"Why are you telling me this?" she asked.
"Because," he said, stepping closer, "you're the only person close enough to Kieran to find out what he's hiding. And if you do, we can bring him down together."
Her breath caught not at his words, but at the echo of something dangerous in his tone.
"You're asking me to spy on my husband," she said slowly.
"I'm asking you to survive," Alexander countered. "And surviving means choosing the lesser devil."
A sound echoed down the pier. Faint, deliberate footsteps.
Selene's head snapped toward the shadows near the dockyard crates.
Alexander's jaw tightened. "We're not alone."
Before she could react, a voice rolled out of the darkness deep, smooth, and lethal.
"I told you not to keep secrets from me, Selene."
Kieran stepped into the light, his black coat billowing slightly in the wind, eyes locked on hers like a predator who'd just caught his prey mid-escape.
Alexander's expression shifted instantly from calculated calm to battle-ready steel. Selene stood between them, her heart slamming against her ribs.
Kieran's gaze never left her.
"Now," he said, voice dangerously soft, "you're going to tell me exactly what you were doing here and why."
The waves crashed against the pier, drowning out everything but the knowledge that one wrong answer could destroy her completely.