WHERE THE RIVALRY ENDS

The Glass Fortress

Colt International’s lobby nearly knocked the wind out of me. Steel and glass everywhere, the kind of place that dares you to touch anything. The air felt heavy, sharp with some weird mix of power and money. Even the air tasted rich, like someone had filtered it through a pile of hundred-dollar bills first. My boots sank into the carpet so thick, it muffled every step. I bet that rug cost more than anything my dad managed to hang onto after our lives got trashed.

I glanced down at the napkin crumpled in my hand. Ink smudged, paper all wrinkled from my sweaty grip. That’s what I got after pleading with the Grand Meridian’s front desk for half an hour, just a scribble: “Jayce C.” Not even a full name, just an initial, like it was supposed to mean something. I’d imagined some middle manager, maybe stuck in a back office, someone who’d actually listen, point me somewhere useful. I hadn’t pictured this. This glass giant swallowing the sky, this name that made my stomach twist itself into knots.

Colt.

“Can I help you, Miss?” The receptionist sounded smooth, almost pleasant, but her eyes flicked over me like I was something she couldn’t wait to wipe up. Her hair was pulled so tight it looked painful. That smile, barely there, just a line, no trace of kindness.

“I’m looking for Jayce,” I managed. My words came out small, thinner than I wanted.

“Mr. Colt is in a meeting. Do you have an appointment?” She made “appointment” sound like a locked door I’d never get past.

That name, Colt, hit me hard. Mr. Colt. I felt sick. Not just any Colt. The Colt. Levi Colt’s son. I remember that man laughing in our kitchen, back when I was a kid, right before he tore my family apart. That same smile. His hand on my dad’s shoulder, pretending to be a friend, right before he took everything from us.

“I… no. But it’s personal. Tell him it’s Veda. Veda Rossman.” My voice shook, but I stood my ground. Saying my name felt like a challenge. Rossman. I watched her face, there it was. Just a flicker, but I saw it. Her eyebrows jumped, a tiny c***k in her perfect mask. She grabbed the phone, whispered something quick and sharp, eyes never leaving me, like I was something dangerous.

“Level forty-two. Executive suite. He’ll see you for five minutes,” she said. Her voice had changed now, curious, maybe a little nervous.

The elevator doors closed, and my heart thudded in my chest. I watched the numbers climb, the city dropping away. When the doors slid open, I stepped out into sunlight and dark wood so polished it felt like it drank in the light.

And there he was.

Jayce didn’t look anything like the man I’d met at the club. That night, he was all shadows and secrets, a black shirt, crooked smile. Now, he looked every bit the golden boy: navy suit, crisp white shirt, not a single hair out of place. He stood by the window, talking to a woman who looked like she belonged on a billboard, flawless, every angle perfect, her dress sharp enough to cut glass. A diamond the size of a marble glinted on her finger, scattering light everywhere.

Thalassa Combs. I’d seen her on magazine covers, always called a “shipping heiress” or a “socialite,” always photographed in places I’d never even set foot. She was everything I wasn’t: graceful, calm, impossible to touch. She stood close to Jayce, her hand curled around his sleeve, her voice low and even as she said, “Jayce, darling, we really need to finalize the seating chart for the engagement gala.” She sounded like silk, but with just enough steel underneath.

Jayce turned, looking bored, until he saw me. His face changed in an instant. His eyes went wide, shocked, like he’d seen a ghost. For a second, he looked like someone had slapped him, all the color draining from his cheeks. He actually took a step toward me, stopped himself, fists clenched at his sides.

“Veda?” he said, so quietly I barely caught it.

Thalassa turned too, her eyes sweeping over me, catching every rip in my jacket, every tangle in my hair, every sign that I didn’t belong. I felt myself shrink under her stare.

“And who’s this?” she asked, her voice cool, precise, like she already knew she wouldn’t like the answer.

“An… old acquaintance,” Jayce got out, his voice rough, almost breaking. “Thalassa, can you give us a minute?”

“A minute?” Her voice turned sharp, no more velvet, just steel. “Jayce, your father’s waiting for us at lunch.”

“Now, Thalassa.” He didn’t bother hiding the edge.

She shot me a glare that could’ve cut glass, then stormed out, heels pounding, each step thumping in my chest. The door shut, and the room went still, thick with silence.

Jayce kept his hands shoved deep in his pockets. His shoulders were all tension. “Veda, why are you here? How did you even find me?”

My throat closed up. I swallowed, tried to hold myself together. “I went back to the hotel,” I said, voice unsteady. “I didn’t even know your last name. You never told me you were a Colt.”

He winced, guilt flashing across his face. For a second, he looked so much younger, like all his defenses fell away. “That night, I wasn’t a Colt. I was just…me. I never thought I’d see you again.”

I almost laughed, sharp and bitter, but choked it down. “Me neither,” I said, my hand drifting to my stomach before I could stop it. “But things changed. My father found out.”

Jayce’s eyes landed on my hand. He went still, breath catching. I watched as the truth hit him, slowly and mercilessly, tearing down whatever walls he had left.

“Veda…” He stepped closer, his voice thin. “Are you saying…?”

“Two blue lines, Jayce. I’m pregnant.” The words dropped, heavy as stone.

He didn’t bolt. Didn’t call for help. He just stared, caught between the guy I’d met and the mask he wore now. The silence between us thickened, full of everything we’d never said, past and future swirling together, all at once.

Then the double doors burst open. I flinched.

A man strode in like he owned the place, silver hair, eyes hard as flint, a suit so sharp it made Jayce look rumpled. Levi Colt. I knew him right away, the way you remember a nightmare that never really leaves. He glanced at Jayce first, impatience etched deep on his face.

“Jayce, the car’s waiting…” He stopped when he saw me. Just stared. Then a slow, cutting grin slid across his mouth. He knew me. Or at least, he saw the Rossman in my face. I felt exposed, like I’d been caught somewhere I didn’t belong.