News & Emotions
530 Words
Alara’s POV
The hum of the jet engines faded behind us, but the buzz of the outside world only grew louder.
Cameras didn’t need permission to chase rumors.
They were already waiting beyond the airport gates, even if security kept them at bay—for now. A flurry of flashes caught us in silhouette as we stepped into the waiting black SUV. The moment the doors shut, my phone lit up like a siren.
HEADLINE: ACE WOLFE SPOTTED IN MALDIVES WITH A MYSTERY WOMAN — WHO IS SHE?
SUBHEAD: The reclusive billionaire is no longer flying solo.
I stared at the photo. Grainy. Rushed. But the image was unmistakable.
His hand on my waist. His mouth close to my ear.
We looked…intimate.
Dangerously so.
I swallowed.
“I’m everywhere,” I murmured. “And they don’t even know my name yet.”
Ace didn’t turn. He remained reclined, composed in his dark suit. His wristwatch gleamed as he adjusted his cuff.
“Let them speculate,” he said evenly.
“That doesn’t scare you?”
He finally glanced at me. Those unreadable, storm-grey eyes met mine.
“I don’t operate on fear, Alara. I operate on facts.”
“And the fact is?”
“The moment they know who you are, it’ll be war.”
He didn’t blink. Didn’t soften. He meant every word.
And strangely, I felt steadier beside him.
Not because I was prepared—but because he always was.
The car slid through the gates of Wolfe Tower, and I knew the woman stepping out of it wasn’t the same girl who’d walked in a week ago with a bruised heart and a borrowed dress.
I was no longer invisible.
And in a world built on power and legacy, that made me dangerous too.
⸻
Eve’s POV
The thud of her heels echoed down the marble hallway.
Glass crunched beneath her feet—the remnants of the wine glass she’d shattered five minutes earlier. Red stains on white stone. A perfect metaphor.
Eve stood in front of the floor-to-ceiling windows of her Manhattan penthouse, watching the city pulse beneath her.
Her fingers clenched the tablet.
Photo after photo of her.
That woman.
Alara Grey.
Curvy. Unfamiliar. Smiling beside Ace like she belonged.
Eve’s jaw flexed.
“She’s nothing,” she whispered.
But the tightness in her chest said otherwise.
Because it wasn’t just the photos.
It was the way Ace looked at her.
Not like a man acting out a contract.
Like a man standing still for the first time in a very long time.
“Alara,” she said, tasting the name like poison.
She tossed the tablet onto the couch and turned toward the bar. Poured herself something strong, neat.
She could feel it—her throne, threatened.
Because this wasn’t just about Ace’s heir or his fortune.
It was about her legacy. The Wolfe name she almost claimed.
And now?
She was watching a stranger walk into her ending.
Not if I can help it.
Eve raised her glass and smiled, lips red as blood.
Let the world play dress-up.
She was still the queen.
And queens don’t go down without a war.
- Writer
