Zara stared at the photo long after the envelope slipped from her hand.
A family picnic. Her father's old leather jacket. Her mother's soft smile.
And behind them... him.
Damian Wolfe.
Watching from the tree line like a shadow waiting to pounce.
It was dated July 21st, 2005.
She'd been ten.
And Damian would've been... twenty.
Her breath turned to ice.
---
6:00 A.M. Wolfe Penthouse
She stormed in.
Damian was shirtless, coffee in hand, caught completely off guard.
She threw the photo on the counter.
He didn't pick it up.
Just stared.
"I need you to say it," Zara said, voice shaking. "You were watching us. Watching me. Long before any of this."
He didn't answer.
Which was an answer.
"You knew who I was the day we met. Didn't you?"
He finally looked up. "Yes."
Zara stumbled back a step, a chill ran down her spine. "Oh my God."
---
Flashback – Damian, 2005
He had just left Oxford. His father's business was dying. Wolfe International was barely a name.
Then came Richard Lancaster, arrogant, untouchable, the man who stole the Valencia contract that would've saved Damian's empire.
He followed him. Watched him. Studied his weaknesses.
Until one day in Central Park… he saw her.
A girl in red sneakers. Laughing on her father's shoulders.
And something in Damian shifted.
Not desire. Not yet.
But obsession.
Because he knew, even then, Lancaster's real vulnerability wasn't money.
It was her.
---
Back to Present
Zara's voice cracked. "So this was always a game to you?"
"No," Damian said. "It started that way. It's not ending that way."
She laughed Harsh. "You stalked my family. Watched me grow up. Waited for me to be useful to you and then you seduced me."
"I never meant for it to go that far."
"But it did, Damian. And now I don't know if any of this was real."
He moved toward her, Slowly and Controlled.
"I didn't plan on falling in love with you."
"You don't get to use that word like a shield."
Zara's eyes welled.
"You were in my life before I had a choice. You designed this."
Damian's voice cracked. "I didn't design you. You are the one thing I never controlled, Zara. That's what ruined me."
3:44 P.M. Unknown Location
The call came from a private line. Voice distorted.
Harrison Vance.
"Miss Lancaster. I believe it's time we talked."
Zara narrowed her eyes. "You lost the right to request anything the second you set my life on fire."
"I'm not offering, I'm warning. You want to protect what's left of your father's name? Come alone. No security. No Wolfe."
"Where?"
He chuckled. "Someplace poetic." The rooftop of Lancaster Tower, Where her father had died.
---
9:00 P.M. Lancaster Tower Rooftop
Zara stepped into the night air.
The wind was brutal. The skyline glowed behind her.
Harrison stood near the ledge, smoking.
He looked older than she remembered. Slimmer. And infinitely more dangerous.
He smiled. "You're even more beautiful up close."
Zara didn't move. "What do you want?" irritated by his comment.
"Closure."
"I don't believe in that word anymore."
He walked toward her slowly, flicking ash into the wind.
"Your father didn't fall because he was weak. He fell because he realized what we were about to take from him."
"Which was what? Pride?"
"No. You."
Zara flinched.
"You were always the leverage," Harrison said. "But we didn't expect you to fight back so hard. Or for Wolfe to catch feelings. That ruined everything."
She stepped closer, voice cold. "So now what? Threaten me again? You've tried. I'm still here."
He grinned.
"I'm not threatening you, Zara. I'm offering you a way out."
He pulled out a small black folder. Inside: documents, Old ones.
A ledger, A testimony and an arrest warrant. Unfiled.
All naming Damian Wolfe.
"Take this to the press," Harrison said. "Burn him to the ground, Walk away clean and I disappear. You win."
Zara's voice shook. "Why would you give me this?"
"Because vengeance is better when it's done this way."
She stared at the papers, Every instinct screamed to take them, Every scar begged her to destroy the man that shattered her faith.
But her heart...
Her heart still belonged to him.
---
Wolfe Penthouse, Midnight.
Zara returned with the folder.
Damian sat on the floor, back against the window, a glass of scotch in hand.
He looked up.
"You met him."
She nodded. "He offered me your execution."
He stood.
"And what did you choose?"
Zara stepped closer, folder in hand. Her fingers shook as she opened it.
Then…
She dropped it into the fire.
Damian stared.
"You're not him," she said quietly. "And I'm not my father. We don't fix pain by burning each other."
Damian walked to her slowly. "Why?"
"Because I'm done being someone's weapon."
Then she looked him in the eye.
"But I swear to God, Damian… if you ever lie to me again, I will destroy you."
He started at her, still shocked from what she said ... then he kissed her.
And for a moment, just a moment, it felt like peace.
Until Zara's phone buzzed again.
It was a photo, A dead body. Taped to the wall was her name.
And one line:
~"You chose wrong."