Chapter 23
651 Words
Rhea's point of view
The screen dimmed before her eyes, but Rhea didn’t move. The glow of the laptop faded, and she sat in the silence of her office space, feeling the pressure of the moment settle like dust on her skin.
She should’ve felt victorious.
The document was everything she had been searching for. Proof. A trail that could lead her straight to the heart of the empire that had devoured her father’s legacy. With that single file, the years of planning, reinventing, infiltrating—everything—had just shifted from theory to action.
And yet… her fingers refused to move.
That voice.
That voice wouldn’t stop echoing.
I trust your judgment.
It was so unlike Damian to say something that human, that vulnerable. For weeks, he had been cold, calculated, pushing her, testing her, challenging her with a look that gave away nothing.
Until now.
Rhea shut her eyes. Just for a second.
But in that second, she saw him in her apartment doorway. Soaked from the rain. Silent. Tired. Like something inside him had been breaking for a long time and no one had noticed.
Or maybe no one had cared.
Her phone buzzed against the desk, jolting her. A text. One word.
Dinner?
It was from Olivia. Her old roommate. Her only real friend in the city. Someone who didn’t know the full story but always knew when Rhea needed a pause.
She replied quickly.
Can’t. Sorry.
Then she pushed back from the desk, stood, and grabbed her coat. She needed air.
Downstairs, the sky had cleared slightly. The rain was gone, but the streets still shimmered with puddles. She walked without direction, letting her heels click against the sidewalk, letting the city blur around her.
She didn’t notice where her feet were taking her until she was standing in front of the café across from Cole Enterprises. The one she never went into. The one she had avoided deliberately because it felt too… casual. Too close. But right now, it was quiet, nearly empty.
She stepped inside.
Ordered something she didn’t taste.
Sat by the window and watched the reflection of the tower she was helping build—or destroy.
She thought about her father. How he used to carry files home, working late into the night, scribbling notes in the margins. She used to sit on the floor and draw while he worked, humming softly under his breath. She remembered the way his face had crumpled when the news came in. The shutdown. The collapse. The silence that followed.
And Richard Cole’s name at the center of it all.
A name Damian now carried.
She opened her purse, fingers finding the flash drive she had copied the document to. The weight of it felt heavier than it should have. She could send it to the press. Leak it anonymously. Watch it burn everything down.
But she hesitated.
Was Damian guilty?
Or just born into the guilt of another man?
You can’t let that matter, she reminded herself. You can’t let him matter.
But as she looked down at the flash drive in her hand, all she could see was the way he had said her name. The way his eyes had softened, just for a moment, in her apartment. The man who hadn’t left a glass out of place. Who had folded the blanket before he left without a word.
Who had not touched her, or questioned her, or even asked for comfort. He had just needed somewhere quiet. Somewhere safe.
Somewhere human.
Her fingers curled tight around the flash drive.
She wasn’t ready.
Not yet.
Not until she was sure he wasn’t just another Cole, hiding behind a sharper suit and a prettier lie.
Rhea stood and left without finishing her drink.
The flash drive stayed in her pocket.
But her plan?
Her plan was still very much alive.
And now, it was personal.
- Writer
