The glow of the laptop screen had become Sera's entire world. The clock in the corner of her screen read 2:47 AM, but time had lost its meaning hours ago. There was only the presentation, the endless stream of data that needed to be shaped into something compelling, irrefutable, devastating.She rubbed her eyes, as she was beginning to feel exhausted, before returning to the slide on her screen. The financial projections looked solid, but were they persuasive enough? Would the investors see what she saw—the pattern of sabotage hidden beneath what looked like legitimate business competition?Her fingers hovered over the keyboard, doubt creeping in like cold water. Shaw Realty was failing, and this presentation was her attempt to prove it wasn't Elias's fault. That every setback, every lost deal, every mysterious problem that had plagued them for the past eight months could be traced back to one man: Dorian Blackwell.The sound of footsteps in the hallway made her tense, then relaxed. O

Elias's phone rang at 11:47 PM, the shrill sound cutting through the quiet of their bedroom. Sera jerked awake beside him, her heart already racing as she watched him reach for the device. The number on the screen was unknown, but something in Elias's expression as he answered told her exactly who it was."Dorian," Elias said, his voice flat as he sat up.Sera threw back the covers and moved to his side, close enough to hear the voice on the other end—cold, controlled, and venomous."You think you're clever, don't you?" Dorian asked. "Sending your wife to poison my investors against me. Did you really believe I wouldn't find out?""I don't know what you're talking about." Elias's jaw was tight, his free hand clenching the sheets."Don't insult me. Sera Vance met with Richard Grandview this afternoon. Fed him some touching story about transition terms, then ambushed him with accusations and ancient history." Dorian's laugh was sharp and humorless. "I have to admit, it was bold. Stupid

Elias found her in the home office at seven in the evening, the room dark except for the pale glow of her laptop screen. She wasn't working on files or reviewing documents. Instead, she stared at a blank email draft, the cursor blinking in the subject line like an accusation.He stood in the doorway for a moment, taking in the slump of her shoulders, the untouched mug of tea on the desk that had probably gone cold hours ago. The meeting with Mark Reynolds had gone well—better than well. The journalist had listened, taken notes, and asked sharp questions. But something had shifted in Sera afterward, and now Elias understood what he was looking at."You're writing a resignation letter," he said quietly.Sera didn't turn around. "I'm considering it."He crossed the room and turned on the desk lamp, flooding the space with warm light. Sera blinked against it, and he saw the exhaustion in her face, the weight of the day carved into the lines around her eyes."Was the board meeting that bad