Kyle stepped through the front door just as the last traces of daylight bled out of the sky. The house smelled of warm oil and something faintly sweet.He closed the door quietly behind him, the soft click echoing louder than it should have in the hush of the sitting room. His shoulders ached from the long hours in the office, coupled with his still healing body.Eleanor sat on the couch with a small plate of sliced fruit and groundnuts balanced on her lap. The television glowed before her, volume low, the same loop of news crawls and slowed-down punches cycling for what had to be the twentieth time that day.The moment the door shut, she set the plate aside and rose in a smooth motion. "And where are you coming from?"Kyle didn't meet her eyes. He already knew she had watched the morning broadcast until the image burned into her mind. He could feel the weight of her stare cataloguing the faint bruise along his jaw and the tightness around his mouth."Look at your face, Kyle!" Her voi

Kyle gave Dora a funny look, one eyebrow lifting."I'm sorry," she said, her smile thinning a bit. Then she set her fork down and leaned forward a fraction. "What happened?"Kyle sighed, turning his glass once between his fingers and watching the wine catch the light before he spoke. "I lied to her about the whole affair behind the fight. She didn't even know about the fight until the morning show carried it."Dora nodded slowly, her eyes steady on his. "Yeah. That's the kind of thing that would make Eleanor furious. She surely doesn't take being kept in the dark lightly.""Yeah, I guess so," Kyle replied in a dropped voice. "Now, I don't know how to get back into her good books."Dora stretched her hand across the table and placed it over his. "Give her some time to cool off. That's all you can do right now."Kyle looked up at her. The candlelight softened the edges of her face, turning the dark dress into something almost luminous against her skin.She nodded once. "Eleanor always

The cool night's air slapped James' face as he strode across the gravel driveway, keys already in hand. He yanked open the door of his black sedan, slid behind the wheel, and fired the engine in a fluid motion.Tired crunched as he accelerated out through the wrought-iron gates, leaving the glowing windows of the mansion and the lingering scent of expensive wine behind them.Only when the estate lights had dwindled in his rearview mirror did he lift the phone to his ear."And what about it?" A female voice said the moment he picked the call.James smiled into the darkness of the car. "Of course she fell for it. She did so completely. I told you she hadn't changed. Still the same ambitious little climber who immediately feels pompous the moment she gets an opportunity."A soft sigh drifted through the line. "Fine, then. We'd follow through with the plan."The call ended right then.James lowered the phone and laughed under his breath. What a smart ass he was.He had just finished speak

Kyle sighed, setting his fork down for a moment. He knew exactly what she meant by “returning home alive.” The bar fight still lingered between them like smoke that refused to clear, even after two days. Eleanor didn’t look at him right away. She simply lifted her coffee cup, took a measured sip, and let the silence stretch until it felt intentional.They continued eating without another word for several minutes. The frittata was perfect—fluffy yet substantial, the goat cheese tangy against the sweetness of the roasted peppers. Kyle appreciated the effort, but the weight of her quiet disapproval made each bite heavier than the last.Then Eleanor spoke again, her voice softer this time, almost reluctant. “And for helping me with the blanket.”Kyle chuckled despite himself, a short, warm sound that cut through the tension like a brief shaft of sunlight. “You know, for one of the richest women in the whole city, you’re incredibly secretive about it. The Shaws didn’t even know I was yo

Patrick Hale’s laugh came low and warm, the kind that settled into the corners of a room rather than filling it. Then he leaned back in his chair, the residual amusement still softening the lines around his eyes as he regarded Kyle.“Properly leading a board,” he said, “is rarely about the papers you bring. It’s about the way you speak. Eloquence is the first blade. You look every man and woman at that table in the face—not to challenge them, but to measure. And then you propose ideas bright enough that even the ones who dislike you are forced to lean forward. You show them a future for Transcorp that they had not yet imagined, or had imagined and discarded. That is how you forge the Group’s interests forward.”Eleanor nodded once, the motion small but decisive. The sapphire pendant still rested in its open box on the side table, catching the late light whenever either of them shifted.Kyle glanced at his mother. “Transcorp has a lot of interests. Shipping. Oil. Building and construct