KAEL – POV
The Morning After
The silence was deafening.
I didn’t know how long I’d been sitting there—revisiting mories I had buried deep—just that the bottle was nearly empty, and the air reeked of sothing bitter and pathetic.
Whiskey had stopped burning after the sixth glass. Now it just numbed. My forehead rested against the cold marble of the kitchen counter, and my pulse thudded in my ears like a ticking bomb I couldn’t shut off.
She was gone.
Walked out of my place like she couldn’t get away fast enough. No more dramatic speeches, no one-liners—just quiet footsteps and a slamd door. I’d told myself I didn’t care. That it was better this way. But apparently, I was full of shit because I hadn’t slept a damn minute.
The lock clicked.
Niko stepped in cautiously like he was preparing to face a landmine. Smart move. I didn’t lift my head.
"Did you take her ho?," I asked, voice gravelled from smoke and sleep deprivation.
"She refused my offer," he replied carefully, like he didn’t want to set off. "Took a taxi instead."
I lifted my head slowly, eyes narrowing on him. "Where’d she go?"
Niko shifted. "I tailed her. She went to Ivy apartnts. Probably her friend nad Sarah. I ran her info. Also works at XE. Marketing departnt."
Of course she did.
Aria always did attract complications like a magnet. I didn’t say anything. Just nodded slightly, letting it file away sowhere in the clutter of my skull. Niko stayed quiet, but the tension in the air stretched, tight and uncomfortable.
"You’re holding back," I muttered, pouring what was left of the drink into my glass. "Spit it out."
Niko ran a hand through his hair. "The chairman called."
I went still.
"He’s visiting HQ this morning. Said you need to be there."
Of course he was. Of fucking course.
I tilted my head back and let the drink slide down my throat, biting hard against the urge to throw the glass across the room. I was tired. Bone-deep tired. But if there’s one thing I’d learned the hard way, it’s that you don’t ignore the Chairman—not if you plan on keeping your head attached to your body. Especially when he’s in the mood to play his little power gas in public.
I stood up.
"Get the car."
***
The city blurred past the tinted windows, all chro and grey under the early morning haze. I sat back, one hand draped over my lap, the other curled around my phone like it owed sothing. Niko was silent in the front seat, sensing I wasn’t in the mood for anything but my thoughts—and even those felt like a ticking ti bomb.
Aria.
She wasn’t supposed to crawl under my skin like this. I’d seen her break before, seen her anger, her bite, her fire—but sothing about last night stuck. The look in her eyes when she left. Like she expected to chase her and already knew I wouldn’t.
And maybe that’s what pissed off the most. That she was right.
I opened our chat. No unread ssages on either side. We’d gone radio silent since the fight, and it was sitting there like dead weight in my chest. I typed.
"Aria..."
Deleted.
"I didn’t an to—"
Deleted.
"Where are you?"
Deleted.
I leaned my head against the glass, jaw clenched, thumb hovering over the keyboard. Fuck. I didn’t do this—not since a long ti. Apologies. Softness. Explaining myself. It was easier to let people think I didn’t care. Hell, most of the ti, I didn’t.
But this wasn’t most of the ti, and Aria wasn’t just anyone.
Finally, I typed it.
We need to talk.
I stared at it for a beat longer than necessary. Then I hit send.
Whatever ca next, I’d deal with it. I had more pressing things to worry about—like the vulture waiting for at HQ, masked in Armani and fatherly poison.
The headquarters lood ahead like a glass beast. As we pulled up to the front, I already felt the shift in energy. My father was here. I didn’t need confirmation—his presence always felt like a cold hand around your neck.
Niko stepped out first, scanning the area. I followed.
And there he was.
Right in the middle of the lobby, holding court like so damn emperor. Executives lined up with polished grins, feeding him fake complints and laughs that didn’t reach their eyes. The man soaked it all in like royalty.
Then his gaze found mine.
A slow, knowing smile crept across his face, and he began walking over.
I didn’t smile back. I didn’t move.
"What are you up to this ti?" I asked flatly when he reached , voice low enough only for him to hear.
His smile didn’t waver, but his eyes turned cold. "We need to talk."
Ah. There it was—the real tone. The one behind closed doors. The one I’d been raised to flinch from but trained myself to et head-on.
"Fine," I said, already walking towards the elevator. "Let’s get this over with."
The mont the office door shut behind us, I didn’t bother offering him a seat. I walked around the desk, leaned back against it, and gave him a look that said start talking or get out.
He didn’t sit either. Of course he didn’t. n like him preferred to loom, scanning the room with false interest.
"I heard about Kyoto," he said, adjusting the cuff of his blazer like the matter was as mundane as weather.
I shrugged. "And?"
"You’re being reckless Kael. We have a na to protect."
I gave a dry laugh, low and unimpressed. "You’re the one with the reputation to uphold, not . And besides... I was doing everyone a favor. If they want to play with wolves, they should learn to keep their wild animals on a leash and not let them roam in expensive suits."
His jaw ticked. "You sound like a child."
"And you sound like a coward." I pushed off the desk, arms folded. "So people deserve to be put down, not negotiated with. I didn’t touch him out of impulse. I did it because it was necessary."
"There are better ways to ruin soone without ever lifting a finger," he said sharply, stepping closer. "You dirty your fists too easily. Do you think this is the sa as the battlefield you’re used to? We’re businessn, Kael, not butchers."
"We?" I scoffed. "Speak for yourself. I didn’t ask for my na on your business cards."
His eyes narrowed. "You’re lucky we hold the upper hand right now. If this had gone sideways—"
"It didn’t," I cut him off. "And even if it did, it’s none of your business. If you’re so worried about what happens under my leadership, then I will gladly step down. Let you or any puppet of yours run this the way you want."
He laughed. That grating, smug chuckle he always used when he thought I was bluffing. "Empty threats, as always."
I didn’t respond. I didn’t need to.
His expression shifted, eyes glinting. "I also heard this little outburst in Kyoto was because of your secretary."
"Executive Assistant," I corrected, voice steel.
He waved a hand. "What’s the difference? You know what they are."
I stepped forward, slow, controlled. "What exactly are you trying to say?"
"I’m saying," he said, drawing out the words like venom, "people have been talking. Whispering. You and this... assistant of yours. What’s her na again?"
His gaze searched my face. He already knew. He just wanted to see if I’d flinch.
"Aria," he said finally, like the na tasted sour in his mouth.
I said nothing, but I felt the tightening in my jaw, the burn building in my chest.
"What are you playing at?" I asked, voice low.
He smiled. "I’m not playing at anything. I just want to remind you of who you are. Of your birth. That’s all."
Translation: She doesn’t belong in our world.
And that was all I needed to hear to feel the familiar rage crawl up my spine.
"If you’re done with your passive-aggressive speeches," I said, stepping back, "you can leave. I’m busy."
"Of course, of course. But I thought it’d be best to avoid another tragedy like the last." He said with a smile.
My blood turned Ice. Ivan.
"Get. Out." I said calmly.
He looked amused—like he’d done what he ca to do and was satisfied watching keep my composure.
He turned toward the door, then paused, glancing at over his shoulder. "Your brother, Andrew, will be in town soon. We should catch up. As a family."
I didn’t answer.
He left with the sa air of false dignity he always carried—like he hadn’t just tried to dig under my skin and didn’t fail miserably.
The second the door clicked shut behind him, I exhaled through clenched teeth.
Fucking Andrew.
Fucking father.
Fucking morning.
And still no word from Aria.
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