The city did not sleep after the scandal broke—it watched.
Screens glowed late into the night with headlines that refused to die, each one dissecting the Gareth sisters' empire with ruthless curiosity. Blogs speculated, analysts argued, and socialites whispered. By morning, the name Amber Gareth was no longer spoken with admiration alone, but with hunger—people wanted to see her fall, or rise even higher.
Amber stood before the floor-to-ceiling windows in her office, the city stretched beneath her like a living thing. She had slept barely two hours. Her hair was pulled into a sleek knot, her tailored suit immaculate, but exhaustion lived in her bones. Still, her spine remained straight. She refused to bend.
Camila entered quietly, a tablet tucked under her arm. "The press wants a statement before noon. Investors are split—some nervous, some impressed by how fast you moved. Legal says the leak traces back to a shell account tied to Wilson's secondary partners, not directly to him."
Amber's reflection stared back at her from the glass. "Alex won't like that."
Camila hesitated. "Or he planned it that way."
Amber turned slowly. "No. If Alex wanted to burn us, he would have done it openly. He doesn't hide behind shadows."
Camila studied her sister's face. "You're defending him."
"I'm reading him," Amber corrected. "There's a difference."
Camila sighed. "Just… don't let whatever this is cloud your judgment."
Amber said nothing, but her fingers tightened briefly against the window frame. Judgment had never been her weakness. Wanting, however, was becoming dangerous.
Across town, Alex Wilson dismissed his board with clipped finality. The moment the door shut, he loosened his tie and leaned back, jaw tight.
"They think I orchestrated it," he said flatly.
Harrison folded his arms. "Because it benefits you."
"It destabilizes her," Alex replied. "That's not the same thing."
Harrison watched his son carefully. "You're angry."
Alex let out a humorless laugh. "I'm irritated that anyone thinks I'd need to play dirty to get her attention."
"And yet," Harrison said calmly, "you're going to see her."
Alex's eyes lifted. "Yes."
"Business?"
Alex stood. "If I say yes, you won't believe me. If I say no, you'll think I've lost control."
"Have you?"
Alex paused at the door. For a fraction of a second, honesty slipped through. "I don't know."
The private lounge at the top of the hotel was sealed off, discreet, soundproof. Amber arrived first, her heels silent against the carpet. When Alex walked in minutes later, the room shifted—air thickening, tension snapping into place like a live wire.
They stood across from each other, neither speaking at first.
"You didn't do it," Amber said finally.
Alex arched a brow. "That's not an accusation most people would open with."
"I'm not most people."
"No," he agreed. "You're not."
Silence stretched. He stepped closer, not invading her space, but close enough that she felt his presence—warm, controlled, dangerous.
"You should be furious," he said. "Your company was exposed. Your name dragged."
Amber lifted her chin. "And yet I'm standing."
"That's what bothers them," Alex murmured. "You don't crack."
Her eyes darkened. "Is that what you're trying to do? Crack me?"
His gaze dropped briefly—to her lips, then back to her eyes. "I'm trying to understand you."
"That's worse."
A corner of his mouth curved. "Is it?"
The tension between them shifted, no longer sharp but heavy, weighted with things unsaid. Amber turned away, walking toward the bar. She poured herself a drink, then paused, pouring another and sliding it toward him without looking.
Alex took it. "You trust me."
"I trust patterns," she replied. "And yours doesn't match sabotage."
He watched her closely as she sipped her drink. "You're playing a dangerous game, Amber."
"So are you."
Their eyes locked. Something electric moved between them—no longer just challenge, but pull.
Alex closed the distance in two slow steps. "Tell me to leave."
Amber didn't move. "And if I don't?"
"Then we stop pretending this is only business."
Her breath caught, just slightly. "You assume too much."
"I see too much."
He reached out—not touching her yet—his hand hovering at her waist, giving her time to pull away. She didn't.
When his fingers finally brushed her skin, it was deliberate, controlled. The contact sent a shiver through her that she hated and craved in equal measure.
"This doesn't change anything," she said quietly.
"It changes everything," he replied just as softly.
Their kiss wasn't rushed. It was slow, testing, a collision of restraint and hunger. When they broke apart, Amber's pulse thundered in her ears.
She stepped back first. "This stays here."
Alex nodded. "For now."
Elsewhere, the ripple effects of the scandal reached younger ears.
At the Gareth mansion, Laylar scrolled through her phone, eyes wide. "They're saying Aunt Amber is in trouble."
Elsa glanced over sharply. "What kind of trouble?"
"Corporate stuff," Laylar replied quickly. "But people are being… cruel."
Elsa's jaw tightened. "Power invites envy. Remember that."
Laylar hesitated. "Is she okay?"
"She will be," Elsa said with certainty. "Your aunt doesn't lose."
Night fell again, and with it, choices grew heavier.
Amber stood alone on her balcony, the city lights blurring. She replayed the kiss in her mind—not the act, but the restraint behind it. Alex had stopped when she stepped back. That unsettled her more than if he hadn't.
Her phone buzzed.
Alex: This doesn't end here.
Amber: Nothing ever does.
Alex: Sleep. Tomorrow won't be kind.
Amber: Neither am I.
She set the phone down, heart pounding.
For the first time in years, Amber Gareth wasn't just fighting the world.
She was fighting herself.