Chapter Four: Paper Cuts
1476 Words
Maya never thought she’d miss Ethan Wolfe’s silence.
But after thirty-six hours back in her old apartment, with the city’s elite whispering behind her back and her phone buzzing with cryptic warnings, she found herself glancing at his number more than once.
And not dialing.
Because pride was louder than loneliness.
And besides, she wasn’t the one who started this war.
She poured herself a glass of water, ignoring the unopened trunk in the corner—the one with her wedding dress shoved in carelessly, like a broken promise. Her inbox was flooded with “neutral” notifications from Wolfe Legal: suspension of partnership contracts, NDA clause reviews, a request to return a luxury car “on loan” for branding purposes.
All legal. All clean. All humiliating.
You wanted independence. Here it is.
His words echoed like a slap.
Maya opened her laptop.
If Ethan wanted to play power games, fine. But she wasn’t the same girl who got blindsided at her father’s first hearing. She’d learned to cut deeper. Cleaner.
She searched her files.
Cassian Wolfe.
The last time she’d seen him in person, he’d been all charm and teeth, feeding her just enough truth to make her doubt everything Ethan had told her.
She needed more.
So she replied to his last message.
Tonight. One hour. Public. No games.
He replied within seconds.
Desert Bloom Lounge. Back table. Come alone.
Of course he picked a place with low lighting, expensive cocktails, and zero cameras.
She changed into black slacks, a silk blouse, and the same nude heels she wore the day she first met Ethan. It felt like wearing armor made of irony.
As she left her apartment, a black car idled at the curb.
No driver name. No note.
Of course.
She climbed in.
The Desert Bloom Lounge sat beneath one of Dubai’s quieter five-star hotels. Dark velvet booths. A scent of oud in the air. The kind of place where secrets were exchanged between courses.
Maya spotted Cassian immediately.
He was at the back, sipping something amber and expensive, his smirk already in place.
“Maya,” he said, standing. “You’re early. I like that in a future traitor.”
She didn’t smile. “Cut the bullshit. You said you had something.”
He motioned to the seat across from him. “I do. But first—tell me something.”
She sat, crossing her arms.
He leaned forward. “Do you actually care about Ethan?”
Her mouth twitched.
He laughed. “Don’t bother lying. I can smell it on you. You hate him, but not enough. That’s dangerous.”
Maya kept her voice flat. “What do you want?”
Cassian pulled out a slim folder from under the table. Slid it across to her. “Proof. That your father was never supposed to be investigated. That someone inside Wolfe Industries reactivated dormant files. Just in time for Ethan to swoop in and ‘rescue’ you.”
She opened the folder.
Her heart stalled.
It was a communication log. Wolfe internal servers. A legal analyst had flagged an old client file—her father’s—and rerouted it to Ethan’s private inbox two weeks before her family’s firm was targeted by regulators.
“You’re saying he knew,” she said, voice low. “Before the charges were even filed.”
“I’m saying,” Cassian said, leaning back, “that your husband orchestrated the entire thing to get you under contract.”
Maya stared at the papers.
She didn’t want to believe it.
But she did.
Because it made sense.
Too much sense.
Back at her apartment, Maya locked the door and threw the folder onto the kitchen counter.
She couldn’t breathe.
The marriage.
The contract.
The illusion of choice.
It had never been about partnership.
It had been about control.
Her phone buzzed.
Ethan.
She stared at the screen, heart beating hard.
She didn’t answer.
Let him sweat.
Because now she had something too.
And if Ethan thought she was done fighting, he’d forgotten who taught her to survive.
The Wolfe penthouse was colder than she remembered. Marble floors, glass walls, and that signature scent Ethan always wore—icy, clean, impossible to grasp.
Maya stepped inside, her heels clicking against polished stone.
Ethan was waiting by the floor-to-ceiling windows, hands folded behind his back, staring out over Dubai’s skyline.
He didn’t turn.
“You’re late,” he said without looking.
She didn’t answer.
Instead, she placed the folder on the glass table between them.
His eyes flicked to the documents, then back to the window.
“Cassian’s handiwork,” he said softly.
“No,” Maya snapped. “This wasn’t Cassian. Someone inside your company flagged my father’s file before the investigation even started.”
Ethan’s jaw tightened. “You think I didn’t know?”
Her voice dropped. “You didn’t stop it.”
He finally looked at her. Cold eyes, unreadable.
“I protected you,” he said.
Her laugh was bitter. “By letting my family get crushed?”
“No. By making sure the damage didn’t kill you.”
She took a step closer, heart pounding in her chest.
“You made me your pawn, Ethan. Your weapon.”
“No,” he said, voice low but firm. “I made you my partner.”
She wanted to believe him, but years of betrayal clawed at her.
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because some truths don’t protect you—they destroy you.”
Her eyes narrowed.
“What aren’t you telling me?”
He hesitated.
“Cassian has leverage on more than you think. He’s not just after the company—he’s after everything that connects us. Our pasts. Our secrets.”
Maya swallowed hard.
“How deep does this go?”
“Deeper than you know.”
Silence stretched between them.
For a moment, the tension shifted.
They were no longer enemies.
But not yet allies.
Just two people caught in the same storm.
Ethan reached out, brushing a strand of hair from her face.
“Trust me,” he whispered.
Maya’s breath hitched.
But trust was a currency she couldn’t afford.
Not yet.
Not until the next card was on the table.
Maya didn’t sleep that night.
She tried.
But every time she closed her eyes, Ethan’s words echoed.
"Some truths don’t protect you—they destroy you."
It wasn’t enough.
Not when the truth had already destroyed everything her family built.
By sunrise, she was at the office—alone.
She didn’t need Ethan’s protection.
She needed proof.
Sitting at the long boardroom table, Maya plugged in a flash drive and opened the confidential folder Ethan thought she didn’t know about.
She hadn’t told him about the access she still had—backdoor codes from her time vetting Wolfe Industries’ legal arm.
A favor from a former compliance officer. One Ethan had overlooked.
The folder loaded.
Her breath caught.
There it was.
A chain of emails dated nearly five years ago. Shell companies. Wire transfers. Signatures.
And one name that made her blood run cold.
Rafiq El-Sayeed.
Her father.
She didn’t blink.
Didn’t cry.
Just stared at the signature—his—and the memo attaching him to one of Wolfe Industries’ offshore holding groups.
Transactions labeled “consulting fees” that looked a lot like hush money.
And one encrypted file she couldn’t access.
Yet.
“Breaking and entering your own husband’s system?” a voice drawled behind her.
Maya spun.
Cassian Wolfe leaned against the doorframe, dressed in black, a half-smile playing on his face.
“I see you still have a taste for danger.”
She rose slowly. “You’re not supposed to be here.”
“Neither are you,” he said, walking in like he owned the place. “But I’m not here to fight, Maya. I’m here to offer you a choice.”
She didn’t answer.
He dropped a flash drive on the table.
“You want the truth? It’s on there. Everything Ethan won’t tell you.”
She eyed the drive.
“What’s the price?”
His smile widened.
“Simple. Walk away. From Ethan. From the marriage. From Wolfe Industries. I’ll give you everything you need to clear your name, and your father’s.”
Maya laughed, sharp and low.
“And in exchange?”
“You don’t look back.”
He stepped closer.
“Ethan will never give you what you’re looking for. He’ll protect the company over you. Every time.”
Her jaw tightened.
Cassian leaned in.
“But I? I don’t care about the company. Just the truth.”
He tapped the flash drive.
“And you deserve it.”
She didn’t move. Didn’t blink.
Cassian left without another word.
Leaving her alone.
With a choice she never wanted.
And a flash drive that could unravel everything.
- Writer
