Eva

25

______

The hum of the car engine is a low, steady rhythm as we drive back toward Dominic’s penthouse. The city lights blur outside the window, their glow muted against the storm brewing inside me. My reflection stares back from the glass—pale, tense, and filled with dread.

Dominic sits beside me, his gaze fixed forward, his jaw clenched tight. He hasn’t said much since we left Kane Enterprises, but the energy radiating off him is enough to fill the silence. His control has always been absolute, but tonight, I can see the fractures beneath the surface.

The moment we pull into the private garage, his phone buzzes. Dominic glances at the screen, his brows furrowing into a deep V.

“What is it?” I ask, trying to steady my voice.

Wordlessly, he hands me the phone. My stomach twists as I read the message:

“Check the news. Your journalist isn’t who you think she is.”

The elevator ride to the penthouse feels excruciatingly slow. Dominic stands stiffly beside me, the phone still clutched in his hand. The tension between us is palpable, a living, breathing thing pressing down on us both.

As soon as we step inside, Dominic strides to his desk and powers up his computer. The screen flickers to life, and his fingers fly across the keyboard, pulling up a news site.

The headline hits me like a punch to the gut:

“Kane Enterprises Insider Linked to Journalist with Questionable Past.”

Below it, my photo stares back at me, flanked by cherry-picked details of my early career. The article dredges up old accusations—allegations of unethical practices and manipulation. My stomach churns as I skim through the exaggerated claims from a disgruntled editor who was looking for someone to blame.

“This is Conrad,” I whisper, my voice shaky. “He’s trying to destroy my credibility.”

Dominic’s silence is deafening. His eyes remain fixed on the screen, his expression unreadable as he scrolls through the article.

“Dominic,” I begin, panic rising in my chest. “None of this is true. Those accusations were baseless—my editor was looking for a scapegoat, and I was convenient.”

“I believe you,” he says finally, his voice low but steady. “But this isn’t just about the truth, . It’s about perception. And whoever leaked this knows how to weaponize it.”

The words sting, though I know he isn’t accusing me. Still, the reality of the situation feels like a weight pressing down on my chest. This attack isn’t just personal—it’s strategic.

Hours pass, but the tension doesn’t abate. I sit on the couch, scrolling through the flood of online comments. Strangers pick apart my life, calling me everything from an opportunist to a liability. My chest tightens with every word, the vitriol sinking deeper under my skin.

Across the room, Dominic paces near the window, his phone pressed to his ear. His voice is clipped, sharp, as he speaks with Adrian.

I close my laptop, burying my face in my hands. The guilt gnaws at me, whispering that the world might be right. That my presence here is doing more harm than good.

“.”

I look up to find Dominic standing in front of me. His expression is softer now, though the tension still lingers in his eyes.

“I don’t know if I can do this,” I admit, my voice barely above a whisper. “Every move I make seems to backfire. Maybe I should step back—let you handle this without me.”

Dominic crouches in front of me, his hands resting on my knees. “Don’t,” he says firmly. “That’s exactly what they want. They want you to doubt yourself, to back away.”

“But what if I’m making it harder for you?” I ask, the words tumbling out before I can stop them.

His grip tightens slightly. “, you’re not a liability. You’re the reason I haven’t burned this whole thing to the ground yet. Don’t ever doubt your place in this.”

His words cut through my doubt like a blade, grounding me. I nod, swallowing the lump in my throat.

Dominic’s phone buzzes again, breaking the fragile moment. He answers quickly, his expression sharpening as he listens.

“What do you have?” he asks, pacing back to his desk.

I watch as his eyes flick across the screen. “Send it to me,” he says before ending the call.

“What is it?” I ask, standing to join him.

“Adrian found something,” Dominic says, opening his email. He pulls up a series of intercepted messages from Conrad’s network. One email stands out—a message addressed to Dominic months before the first breach.

The subject line reads: “Critical System Vulnerabilities.”

The email outlines concerns about a potential backdoor in Kane Enterprises’ systems. My stomach tightens as I read the final line:

“We recommend immediate action to address these vulnerabilities before they can be exploited.”

“Dominic,” I say slowly. “This email—it suggests you were warned about the backdoor.”

He leans back in his chair, his face unreadable. “I don’t remember this,” he says finally. “It must’ve been buried in a flood of other reports.”

“But if you’d acted on it...” I trail off, not wanting to finish the thought.

The implications are clear. If Dominic had addressed the warning, Conrad might never have had the opportunity to infiltrate the company.

The weight of the revelation hangs heavy between us. Dominic stands, pacing to the window with his hands on his hips.

“I missed it,” he says quietly, his voice laced with bitterness. “I missed the warning, and now we’re here.”

“It’s not your fault,” I say, following him. “Conrad betrayed you—he exploited the trust you placed in him.”

“And that trust was a mistake,” Dominic mutters, his jaw tightening. “One I won’t make again.”

I place a hand on his arm, my touch firm but gentle. “Dominic, this isn’t just on you. Conrad is the one who chose to weaponize that trust. We’re going to stop him. Together.”

He turns to me, his blue eyes softer now, though the weight of his guilt remains. “You don’t give up, do you?”

“Never,” I reply, a faint smile tugging at my lips.

As dawn begins to break, Adrian sends another update, confirming the legitimacy of the email. But before we can dig deeper, Dominic’s phone buzzes with a new message.

He reads it silently, his expression darkening with every word.

“What is it?” I ask, my heart pounding.

He hands me the phone. The message is chilling in its simplicity:

“You’re not the only one with secrets, . Tell him, or I will.”

Before I can respond, another message arrives—this time with an attachment. Dominic opens it, and I see the color drain from his face.

The document contains my investigation notes, from before I knew Dominic. The truth is out.

“,” he says quietly, his voice razor-sharp. “What is this?”

The walls we’ve been breaking down between us feel higher than ever.

Dominic’s question lingers in the air, each word a loaded accusation. He holds my gaze, his piercing blue eyes demanding answers I’m not sure I can give.

“I can explain,” I say, my voice barely above a whisper.

“Then do it,” he replies, his tone cold and cutting.

The weight of his distrust hits harder than I expect. My heart pounds as I search for the right words, but everything I think of sounds like an excuse. I swallow hard, willing myself to face this head-on.

“When I first came to New York, I didn’t have a choice,” I begin. “The job at the paper—it wasn’t about ambition. It was survival. They gave me an assignment to investigate you, and I took it because I couldn’t afford to say no.”

His expression doesn’t shift, but the tension in his posture grows.

“So you decided to dig into my life,” he says, his voice dangerously calm. “To look for dirt, for leverage. And then what? Publish it for the world to see?”

“No,” I say quickly, shaking my head. “That’s not what happened. At first, I thought you were just another corrupt billionaire. But the deeper I looked, the more I realized that wasn’t true. Dominic, I wasn’t trying to hurt you—I was trying to understand you.”

“Understand me?” he repeats, his tone dripping with disbelief.

“Yes,” I insist, my voice breaking. “When I started uncovering what Conrad was doing—when I saw how he was sabotaging everything you’d built—I couldn’t just walk away. That’s why I stayed. That’s why I kept digging.”

His jaw tightens, and he takes a step back, putting distance between us. The movement feels like a physical blow.

“You should have told me,” he says, his voice lower now, but no less sharp. “From the beginning. The moment you knew what was happening, you should have come to me.”

“I know,” I whisper. “I wanted to. But I was scared, Dominic. I was scared you’d see me as the enemy. And by the time I realized how much you meant to me, I didn’t know how to fix it.”

For a moment, the only sound is the faint hum of the city outside the penthouse windows. Dominic runs a hand through his hair, his expression unreadable.

“I let you in,” he says quietly. “I trusted you.”

The weight of his words crushes me. “And I’m still here,” I say, stepping closer despite the distance he’s trying to create. “I’m still fighting for you, for us. That hasn’t changed.”

His gaze snaps back to mine, a flicker of something—pain, maybe—breaking through the anger.

“But how do I trust you now?” he asks, his voice raw. “How do I know this isn’t just another game?”

Before I can answer, Dominic’s phone buzzes again. He looks down at the screen, his expression hardening as he reads the latest message.

“They’re not done,” he mutters, his tone laced with frustration.

“What does it say?” I ask, my chest tightening.

He hands me the phone, and I read the message aloud:

“Secrets breed chaos, Dominic. She’s not the only one keeping them.”

Attached to the message is a file. Dominic opens it, and we both lean closer to the screen. The document is dense, filled with spreadsheets, emails, and contracts, all tied to Kane Enterprises. But one line catches my eye:

“Reyes Holdings LLC—Special Operations.”

My blood runs cold. “That’s one of Conrad’s shell companies,” I say, pointing to the name.

Dominic nods, his focus shifting. “This is leverage. They’re trying to make me question everything—my company, my people.”

“And me,” I add softly.

His gaze flicks to mine, and for a moment, I see a hint of the Dominic I’ve come to know. The man who refuses to back down, even when the odds are stacked against him.

“We can use this,” he says, his voice steady. “If this file is real, it proves Reyes and Conrad have been targeting Kane Enterprises from the start. But we need to verify it.”

“I’ll help,” I say without hesitation.

Dominic studies me for a moment before nodding. “Fine. But if this is another trap, we’ll know soon enough.”

The hours blur as we pour over the file, cross-referencing every detail against what we already know. Adrian joins us via video call, his calm voice guiding us through the technical side of the investigation.

“This file is authentic,” Adrian confirms after running a final scan. “The metadata matches what we’ve pulled from Reyes’s network. Whoever sent this wanted you to find it.”

“But why?” I ask, glancing between Adrian and Dominic. “What’s their endgame?”

“To sow distrust,” Dominic says, his tone clipped. “If I can’t trust the people around me, I can’t focus on taking them down. It’s a power play.”

Adrian nods. “And it’s working. Reyes thrives on chaos. He’s betting on you second-guessing yourself, Dominic.”

“I don’t have time for second-guessing,” Dominic replies, his voice hard. “We need to move.”

Adrian’s team traces the file’s origin to a private server located in the industrial district. The location is tied to one of Reyes’s known associates, a man named Vincent Marlowe.

“He’s their tech guy,” Adrian explains. “Handles the backend operations—encryptions, data wipes, that sort of thing.”

“If we take him out of the equation, we cripple their ability to cover their tracks,” Dominic says.

“But it’s a trap,” I interject, my stomach twisting. “You know it is.”

Dominic’s gaze hardens. “Of course it is. But we don’t have a choice.”

I reach for his hand, my grip firm. “Then we face it together.”

The warehouse is cold and uninviting, its metal walls gleaming under the harsh floodlights. Adrian’s team fans out, their movements swift and silent as they secure the perimeter.

Dominic and I move in tandem, our footsteps echoing on the concrete floor. My heart pounds with every step, the tension thick enough to choke on.

“Eyes open,” Dominic whispers as we approach the main office.

The door creaks open, revealing a sparse room filled with computer equipment. Vincent Marlowe sits at the center, his fingers flying across a keyboard.

“You’re late,” he says without looking up.

Dominic raises his weapon. “Hands where I can see them.”

Vincent smirks, his movements slowing. “You’re predictable, Kane. Always charging in, thinking you’re in control.”

“Don’t test me,” Dominic growls, his tone lethal.

Vincent finally looks up, his expression calm. “You think this is the endgame? You’re just scratching the surface.”

Before Dominic can respond, the sound of gunfire erupts from the far end of the warehouse.

Chaos ensues as bullets ricochet off the walls. Adrian’s voice crackles through the comms, shouting commands as his team engages Reyes’s men.

“Dominic!” I shout, my voice barely audible over the noise.

He grabs my arm, pulling me behind a stack of crates. “Stay down!”

“What about Marlowe?” I ask, panic rising.

Dominic’s jaw tightens. “He’s not going anywhere.”

But as the gunfire intensifies, I catch a glimpse of Marlowe slipping through a side door.

“Dominic!” I shout again, pointing toward the escape route.

His eyes narrow, and he curses under his breath. “Adrian, cover the front. We’re going after him.”

With a nod, Dominic pulls me to my feet, and we sprint toward the side door. The night air hits like a shock as we burst outside, the sounds of the firefight fading behind us.

Marlowe is ahead, his figure silhouetted against the dim streetlights. Dominic doesn’t hesitate, his focus unyielding as we close the distance.

But just as we reach him, Marlowe turns, a sly smile on his face.

“You’re too late,” he says, holding up a small device.

My blood runs cold as the device beeps once, then twice.

“Dominic,” I whisper, my voice trembling.

He doesn’t hesitate, pulling me back as the warehouse explodes in a blinding flash of light and heat.

The force of the blast knocks us to the ground, and the world tilts as smoke and debris fill the air. Dominic shields me with his body, his arms tight around me as the ground shakes beneath us.

When the chaos subsides, I lift my head, coughing as I try to catch my breath.

“Dominic,” I croak, my voice raw.

“I’m here,” he says, his voice steady despite the destruction around us.

But as we look back at the smoldering remains of the warehouse, one thing is clear: Marlowe is gone.

And with him, so is our lead.