James POV They called it a celebration, but it felt more like a coronation. The Brooks estate was dressed to impress—gold-rimmed champagne flutes, orchestral strings humming behind a veil of curated laughter, and a guest list full of people who could buy and sell the lives of ordinary men. People like me, I thought, shifting in the stiff-backed chair nobody had wanted but someone had offered to the “plus-one.” Rose stood near the grand staircase, radiant in a crimson gown that matched the hue of success. Her smile—brilliant, sharp—drew people in like light through a magnifying glass, and they basked in her glow, even if it burned a little. Tonight was her night. She deserved it. She’d closed the deal with Woodlord Global—something even her father had thought impossible. That alone was enough to make him throw a party in her honor. Not our anniversary, not our engagement—this. The music swelled around him, but James wasn’t hearing any of it. Not really. All he could hear wa

James POV The day was passing slowly. James lay in his hospital bed, waiting. Waiting for Rose. Waiting for her parents. But no one came. The room was quiet except for the steady beep of the machine beside him. Each sound felt louder in the silence. He thought about the past—their wedding, the promises, the smiles. Now, all that seemed far away, like a dream that had ended badly. Hours passed. Nurses came in and out, but no visitors. James felt the loneliness deep in his chest. The pain from his ribs was small compared to this. Even his phone didn’t ring. At last, just before evening, the door opened again. This time, it wasn’t Rose or her parents. It was his grandfather, Mr. Davison. He walked in with a slow, confident step, a small smile on his face. “So,” the old man said, looking at James with sharp eyes, “still waiting for your wife to show up?” James didn’t answer. Mr. Davison sat down beside the bed, folding his hands. “I told you she wasn’

The black SUV pulled into the underground parking of the Rivercrest Towers—one of the most exclusive addresses in the city. It had been nearly two years since James last stepped foot in this place. Back then, he had left willingly, trading solitude and power for the illusion of love and family. Now he was back. The elevator doors opened silently, revealing the top-floor penthouse he still owned—untouched, pristine, yet distant, like a locked memory. The door clicked open. The air inside was fresh. Clean. Someone had been maintaining it, just as instructed. Polished marble floors reflected the soft evening light. Art pieces still hung where he left them. The scent of sandalwood lingered faintly in the air—his scent. He stepped in slowly, the cane tapping softly against the tiles. No sound. No voices. No lies. Just peace. He moved to the glass wall overlooking the skyline. The city lights glittered like stars beneath his feet. For a long moment, he stood in silence, letting the

James PovJames Davidson stood in his office for the first time in Months.The soft hum of the city buzzed outside the glass panels that wrapped around the top floor of Davidson Corporation. Sunlight spilled across the polished surface of his desk, catching faint dust particles in the air—remnants of his absence. Everything was as he had left it, yet something in the air had shifted. Maybe it was him.He adjusted the cuff of his shirt and slowly took the seat behind his desk. The room was silent, save for the occasional flip of a page as he thumbed through documents piled neatly in a stack—updates, reports, and pending contracts. He'd left everything in the capable hands of Liam, his long-time PA, while he was recovering. But now, he needed to take control again.He was quiet, composed, but his left side still ached faintly—a reminder of the accident from two nights ago.The accident that happened after that night.A soft knock tapped at the door.“Come in,” James said.Liam stepped i

Rose Brooks – Two Weeks LaterIt had been two weeks since the divorce was finalized, and Rose had never looked better—or freer. She wore freedom like a designer perfume. Expensive, intoxicating, and impossible to ignore.Seated at a candlelit table in the exclusive Roseheart Lounge atop the Marquee Hotel, Rose clinked her wine glass against Charles’s and leaned back with a satisfied smirk. The view of the skyline glittered around them like they were gods looking down at peasants. Her dress was red, backless, and scandalous in the best way. Her makeup—flawless. Her laugh? Louder now. Bolder.“Honestly, Charles,” she said, lips curling into a smile as she twirled her fork around a bite of risotto, “this city finally feels like mine.”Charles smirked across the table. “It’s yours, baby. Everything here is below your level now. Especially certain people.”Rose’s eyes narrowed slightly but amusement glimmered in her gaze. She knew who he meant. James.James Davidson.The man who had once