The name would not leave her mind. Donald Smith. Mia stood frozen in the narrow corner passage, her back pressed lightly against the cool wall. The dim streetlight at the edge of the junction flickered faintly, casting long, uneven shadows that stretched across the pavement. A thin breeze moved through the alley, brushing against her bare arms, but she barely felt it. Every nerve in her body was focused on the words she had just heard. Donald Smith. It sounded exactly like him. The same calm man from DeGrand earlier that day. The same steady eyes. The same smooth nod after she had collided with him. But Smith was a common surname, she told herself. Maybe it was coincidence. Maybe it was another Donald. Her heart beat so loudly she could feel it in her throat. Stay. Listen. She told herself she would wait just a few more seconds. Just enough to confirm. Just enough to know whether she was overthinking or standing in the middle of something far more serious than she wanted t

The tall gates glistened under the streetlights, polished black with intricate golden accents that shimmered like tiny stars caught in metal. The driveway stretched before her like a private boulevard, lined with perfectly manicured shrubs, their leaves glistening faintly from a recent mist. Soft outdoor lights cast warm, golden glows along the smooth pavement, illuminating the path all the way to the mansion. The estate itself was a masterclass in architectural elegance, a fusion of modern design and timeless sophistication. Towering glass panels reflected the city lights, monumental pillars rose with silent authority, and expertly carved stonework hinted at wealth and refinement that went far beyond mere opulence. Mia’s eyes widened, her pulse momentarily forgetting the urgency of her mission as she absorbed the spectacle. She had expected a stately home, perhaps a high-end residence, but this… this was something else entirely. The sheer scale of it, the way every detail seemed deli

Mia’s hands trembled slightly as she spoke, the tension of the night pressing down on her like a weight she could hardly bear. Every muscle in her body felt taut, coiled with nervous energy, and the adrenaline coursing through her veins made her pulse thrum in her ears. “Yes, Mr. Smith,” she said, her voice quick, urgent, and almost breathless. “I work with DeGrand Corporation, and I saw you yesterday at the office. I… I was coming home late that evening after attending a small gathering with colleagues. It wasn’t a party in the wild sense, just music, laughter, soft lights, and people taking too many pictures under string bulbs, but by the time I left, it was already late. I noticed some men in black parked at a corner near my street. At first, I thought they were just ordinary people, maybe some residents or drivers waiting, but something felt off. Their movements were too coordinated, too cautious. And then, I overheard them mention your name. They were planning… an attack. They eve

Donald’s expression remained calm, yet resolute, his eyes sharp and piercing, carrying that same weight of authority that Mia had felt from the moment she first saw him at DeGrand. The quiet of the room seemed to stretch, filled with an unspoken tension as he studied her, gauging her words, her body language, the very intention behind her presence. Finally, his voice broke the silence, low and deliberate, yet cutting through the room with unmistakable clarity. “Miss,” he said slowly, each syllable measured, “let me ask you—was the real reason you came to my house tonight to… ask me out?” Mia blinked, her chest tightening instantly at the bluntness of the question. Her brow furrowed, and heat crept up her neck, flushing her cheeks. Her heart skipped a beat as if her body were rebelling against the audacity of his words. “What?” she asked sharply, her voice edged with incredulity. “No! Of course not!” Donald tilted his head slightly, maintaining that unwavering gaze that made it imposs

Donald furrowed his brow, a mixture of surprise and irritation flickering across his face. Why was she still here? Didn’t he tell her to leave last night? He had been clear—she had done enough to warn him, and he didn’t need her hovering around his house, following him, or putting herself at risk. He didn’t need distractions, not now, not ever. The memory of her sudden arrival at his mansion, the urgency in her voice, the risk she had taken—it all played through his mind again. Normally, he would have brushed it off, thanked her internally, and let her go, but there was something about Mia that was different. Her presence carried weight. Not because of her status, or her looks, or even her age. No, it was the way she carried herself, the way her determination and courage shone through even when fear threatened to consume her. That combination of vulnerability and audacity was rare, almost instinctively compelling. He sighed softly, telling himself he would at least hear her out before