Elara's POV,

The lobby is massive.

Glass walls stretch endlessly upward, marble floors polished, chandeliers hanging and blinding every eye. Everything about the building screams excess.

Noemi gasps beside me.

"Oh my God," she says, spinning in a slow circle. "Elara, this place is insane. INSANE. This is the kind of company people sell their souls to work in."

I glance around once, unimpressed.

"Really?" I murmur. "How nice."

She doesn't hear the sarcasm. Noemi rarely does.

I know exactly why this place exists. This building wasn't constructed for business. It was built for ego.

Anya's ego.

My sister always loved excess. Loved being seen and loved proving she belonged in rooms she had no business standing in. Of course the Kòrvacs would build something like this for her. A monument to power and possession.

But I applied anyway because it was perfect.

Before I left that life, and disappeared into another country, I knew one thing: the Kòrvacs wanted a marriage contract with the Virellis. And Anya - sweet, cruel Anya - had married the Don himself.

Lucien Kòrvac.

While Noemi gushes about floor-to-ceiling windows and executive elevators, I smile to myself.

"Indeed," I say. "It's perfect."

~ ~

The interview room is even colder than the lobby.

Four people sit across from me. Two women and two men.

One of them doesn't need an introduction.

Lucien Kòrvac.

Worldwide CEO. Billionaire. Visionary. Public icon. Privately, Don of a Mafia dynasty.

I recognize him instantly. I mean, he has the kind of presence that doesn't need to announce itself to dominate a room. And fucking hell, he is handsome.

He doesn't look at me, not really. His gaze skims me for barely three seconds before shifting away, as though I'm as interesting as a sock.

That infuriates me more than it should.

I straighten my spine.

I'm here for the Sales Manager position, and my résumé is flawless. The years of experience, metrics that speak louder than charm and results that can't be argued with.

All they needed now was my oral professionalism.

The questions come quickly.

Market expansion strategies. Client retention. Risk mitigation. Leadership philosophy.

I answer calmly, precisely and wisely. I watch the panel exchange glances and know they are impressed. Engaged, even.

Lucien just remains silent, detached and uninterested. Until the last question.

"All right," one of the women says, smiling politely. "One final question."

"Our European expansion is underperforming. Revenue is stable, but client retention dropped 17% in six months. Marketing says pricing and finance says logistics. But I don't care who's right. If I gave you ninety days, what would you fix first?"

All of them look at me, expectant. I know they're testing my strategic thinking and forcing me to pick a side. I calmly inhale and answer,

"None of those."

Lucien looks up, they exchange looks. So I explain.

"You don't have a pricing problem. You have a trust gap. Your sales cycle is too short for your product value, and your representatives are closing deals before relationships form. Clients don't leave because it's expensive, they leave because they feel sold to, not partnered with."

A pause.

"I'd slow the process down."

They start murmuring. That's an insane answer but I and they knew it works.

"Slower means less revenue." I look Lucien who replied. His voice.

"Only short-term. In six months, your referrals double and your churn halves.

Right now, you're winning contracts but you're losing loyalty."

"If you're wrong, it's on you, Solis." Lucien leans forward, his eyes cold and indifferent.

I answer, "I wouldn't have answered if I wasn't so sure"

"Where did you learn that?" he asks and I roll my eyes inwardly.

"I study a lot," I say smoothly. "And I'm good at what I do. Not to brag."

"And yet," he replies flatly, "here you are, doing just that."

I bite my tongue, hard. How childish.

Instead of snapping, I laugh lightly, like he's made the funniest joke in the room. He narrows his eyes, studying me. Finally he says, dismissively.

"You'll do."

You'll do?!

Like I'm a chair or...or something he picked off a shelf to fill space in his palace.

Anya truly was his perfect match.

~ ~

I resume work the following week.

And immediately, I begin.

I move through the company like a quiet storm. Redirecting resources, reassigning budgets, and dissolving contracts under the guise of restructuring.

Their money disappears and information leaks. Partnerships crumble and no one suspects a thing.

Because I'm excellent at my job.

I lead flawlessly. My team respects me. And I deliver results just enough to keep the company standing while bleeding it.

I don't waste words and don't soften reprimands. I don't pretend to care because I didn't.

I was aware people called me stoic, controlled and upright. But I was efficient.

I let the company rot while ensuring it never fully collapses.

During one meeting, I pass by a group of coworkers whispering near the glass corridor.

"They say the CEO's furious," one of them murmurs.

"Someone's been leaking information," another adds. "Stealing. Big amounts."

I smile inwardly, but then stop and turn to them.

"How about instead of worrying about useless gossip, you work hard enough that the money being stolen is nothing but a speck of dust."

They scurry away without a word and I scoff.

If the CEO's running mad, he'd soon hold an investigation.

Except they can never catch me. I'm good at what I do, after all.

~ ~

Rain crashes against the glass and I frown. My car chose today of all days to betray me, sputtering once before dying completely in the parking lot. Camilla is out of town, unreachable, and so I stand by the window, phone pressed to my ear, watching the city blur under sheets of rain.

"Please," I tell Noemi, keeping my voice even. "Just pick Asher up from school. I'll owe you."

There's a dramatic sigh on the other end. "Elara, you'll owe me big time. BIG. It's raining like the heavens are angry."

"I'll buy you dinner for a month."

She replies almost immediately. "Say less. I'm on my way."

I end the call, exhaling softly.

The office is almost empty now so I'm surprised when I hear a voice too close.

"You don't look like someone who's married."

I turn slowly, forcing my expression into something neutral and polite. Lucien Kòrvac stands beside me, hands in his pockets and suit immaculate.

"You don't even act like a mother," he adds coolly.

I force a smile so tight it almost hurts.

"Season's greetings, boss."

He arches a brow. "It's the middle of May."

I lift two fingers in a lazy salute. "I am joyous and filled with festivities all year round."

For a second, I think I see something flicker across his face-amusement, maybe irritation. But then it's gone.

"I didn't see 'married' in your status," he says, eyes dropping briefly to my hand to see it bare. "Or 'widowed.'"

I follow his gaze before looking back up.

"My husband's dead," I lie easily. "Been dead for five years."

I don't know what to expect. Sympathy, discomfort, even an awkward apology.

But Lucien gives me none of that. He just grunts, unimpressed, and turns to leave.

Something in me snaps.

"How's your wife?" I ask instinctively.

He pauses and slowly turns back.

"What do you mean?"

I shrug, light and careless. "As handsome as you are, boss, you don't expect me to believe you aren't married."

I grin so wide and outrageous. He visibly recoils, making me want to laugh at the ridiculousness.

"I'm not," he says flatly. "Solis."

Then he walks away.

I stare after him, my jaw tightening. Liar.

That night, his words won't leave me alone.

I tuck Asher into bed, kiss his forehead, wait until his breathing evens out and open my laptop.

Lucien Kòrvac might've lied. Hell, everyone lies.

But the computer never lies.

And when the truth finally loads onto my screen, my breath catches.

"What the actual fuck...?"?

Elara's POV,

"...the boss is agitated. I heard he's wondering about the hacker's next plan." One of my co-workers says. I think he's the logistics manager, I can't remember his name.

"Yeah. I heard he went on a rampage in his office yesterday because the person he'd hired to find the hacker didn't do the job." Another chimes in and I inwardly roll my eyes. These people never come to work to...well, work.

"Shh, he's passing." One of them says in hushed tones and we all stand up as Lucien Kòrvac passes without a glance at us. From my seat, I can see the frustration and anger on his face. Pfft, he should be happy I've stopped.

It's been a week since that night I found out the truth. Lucien never married Anya. So I'd been just tormenting an innocent company. I stopped only to find out that it made Lucien angrier. Apparently, he'd been so close to finding the person and when the person suddenly stopped, leaving no traces, he'd gone on a rampage.

He finally passes into the elevator and everyone heaves a huge sigh. They start whispering, "I heard he fired Monica yesterday because she looked at him."

"What do you mean 'looked at him'? You mean wrongly?"

"No, he just looked at him."

I guess I've tickled the tail of the Dragon. How sweet.

~ ~

I work harder than usual after that day to replace every stolen dollar and every rerouted transaction.

One afternoon, I'm in my study, fingers flying over my keyboard, when the door burst open.

"Mama!"

Asher crashes into me with the force of pure joy, small arms wrapping around my waist. I laugh despite myself, instinctively closing my laptop halfway and Camilla leans against the doorframe, arms crossed.

"You're welcome," she says dryly.

"For what?" I ask, kissing the top of Asher's head.

"For keeping your son alive. My credit card declined and some kind sir bought him a cake."

I blink. "A what?"

"A man," she says, rolling her eyes. "Tall, expensive shoes, perfume and ridiculously handsome."

I raise a brow. "Camilla."

She scoffs. "Relax. If I liked men, I'd let him ruin my life. I almost asked for his number."

I laugh it off, shaking my head and Asher pulls back, grinning.

"He was nice, Mama. He bought me chocolate cake."

"That's good," I say softly. "As a good boy, I hope you said thank you."

Two weeks later, Asher comes home with a flier clutched proudly in his hands.

"My new principal gave me this!" he announces.

I frown, taking it. Inter-school spelling competition.

"He's five," I mutter.

Camilla shrugs as she sets her bag down. "Apparently he's a genius."

When she leaves, Asher crawls onto the couch beside me.

"Mama," he says. "The principal did something weird."

I freeze for a moment. "What kind of weird?"

"She made us all spit in cups."

I blink. "...What?"

"All of us," he insists. "She said it was for something important."

I force a laugh. "Schools do strange things these days, baby."

But something cold slides down my spine.

The next day, Lucien Kòrvac calls me into his office.

Now here's the thing: the boss never called me.

My hands shake on their own as I walk down the hallway. They know, my mind screams. They've finally caught you.

When I enter, he is on a call, looking angry, sharp, and dangerous. He doesn't even look at me. He just slams a document onto his desk and gestures for me to open it.

I do.

And my heart stops.

My vision is blurred. My lungs forget how to work.

The world tilts.

Lucien Kòrvac is the masked man from six years ago.

I look up slowly to see he is already staring at me, eyes burning.

"So," he says coldly, ending the call, "why did you hide him from me?"

I can't speak.

He slams the desk hard, and I can't even flinch.

"Speak now, Solis," he says, voice low and lethal, "and I'll consider letting you remain his parent."

"What...?" My lips tremble.

"I don't know how it happened," he continues, pacing. "I remember every woman I've slept with. Maybe I was drunk. Maybe you drugged me. But hiding my child under my nose?"

He walks closer, backing me into the wall. "That's arrogance."

He doesn't recognize me.

The realization steadies me.

Good.

I lift my chin. "So now you want to claim him? You can't just waltz in and-"

"Unfortunately," he interrupts, "I can do whatever the fuck I want. You have twenty-four hours. Bring my child to me."

Something in me snaps,, and my eyes flare.

"And who the fuck do you think you are?"

As soon as the word leaves my lips, his hand comes up and wraps around my neck.

Fear claws up my throat. I know exactly who Lucien Kòrvac is, but he doesn't know I do.

His hand tightens around my neck.

"If I don't see my boy tomorrow," he whispers, "you won't have this pretty mouth anymore."

I see that he isn't bluffing, so I do the unthinkable.

I spit in his face and slap him.

The sound echoes.

Shock flickers across his features as I bolt from the office. Everyone sees me running, but I don't care.

I go straight home and throw essentials into a bag, hands shaking. I drive to Noemi's place and lie without blinking about my mother in Canada falling sick, about urgency, and about leaving tonight.

They believe me, of course, and Carla gives me snacks for the trip.

I don't even have time to feel guilty.

I call Camilla and tell her not to pick Asher up. That I'll do it myself.

Just close to the school gate, I don't see the bike.

Just metal, impact, and finally... Darkness.

~ ~

I wake up upside down.

I'm tied and gagged. My breathing becomes shallow in the dark, suffocating room.

My mind spirals. Asher.

The metal door creaks open, and the light stabs my eyes.

"I can't believe you tried to escape," a familiar voice says coldly. "Just who do you take me for?"

Lucien emerges from the shadows looking furious as hell and somehow completely calm.

That's what terrifies me most.

I buck violently, throwing my body around in the air, screaming through the gag until my throat burns. I don't care how unhinged I look. His face twists in disgust.

He gestures once.

In seconds, hands are on me. The ropes fall away, and the gag is yanked out of my mouth.

I don't hesitate.

I launch myself at him, nails raking blindly.

"You monster!"

His men catch me before I can reach his throat, but I kick, thrash, and scream like a wounded animal.

"Where is my child?" I shriek. "Give me back my child!"

Lucien steps forward and grips my jaw so tightly my teeth ache. He forces my face up until our lips are a breath apart.

"You don't scare me," I spit. "So go on, kill me."

It's a bluff, and we both know it.

He studies my face for a long moment, then smirks.

"At least smile, Solis," he murmurs. "It's the longest moment you have."

My heart slams against my ribs. Oh God. He really might.

I refuse to flinch and instead scoff in his face.

His lips twitch, and he nods to his men. I'm tied upside down again.

"You won't get away with this," I snarl, and they put on the gag.

"I already have."

They leave, and silence swallows the room.

Hours pass. Or minutes. I don't really know.

Then I hear laughter.

My son.

My breath catches painfully as I hear his tiny footsteps.

He's close.

"Asher!" I scream through the gag, my whole body shaking, and Lucien chooses to return, unhurried.

"Relax," he says calmly. "He's having fun."

Fun?!!

My entire body shakes violently.

"How ironic," he continues. "You ran. You hid him from me. And still, you end up right here."

His fingers slide through my hanging hair like he owns it, and a chair is brought in.

He sits and opens a document.

"I don't need a wife, but I won't leave my son unprotected." A pause. "I'll give you that. You're strong."

I say nothing.

He signals, and the gag is removed again.

"You think I'd sign myself into a cage?" I hiss, and he nods once, clearly rage-baiting me.

"No. You'll sign because you have no choice. You're going to die, Solis."

Elara's POV,

"No." His voice is cold. "You'll sign because you have no choice. You're going to die, Solis." 

I laugh, and it's loud, cracked, and ugly. "How cute."

His voice drops. "You will die, once my enemies find out... and our son becomes a bargaining chip."

My blood turns cold. "They won't'..." I whisper because I know they won't. I've been hiding longer than he'd ever imagined. 

"My mother will raise him. My enemies will want him. My world-" He stops short.

He doesn't want me to know,,except I already do. His world will devour Asher alive. 

"You're the only reason he's still just a child," he finishes quietly.

Silence crashes down as the truth hits me like a blade between the ribs.

I've been cornered again, just like the Virelli mansion.

I scream. I curse. I kick until my head spins and my vision blurs from being upside down too long. He watches without stopping me.

When I finally go still, trembling and breathless, I twist upward with the last of my strength and grab his collar.

"Add a clause," I snarl. "I'm his legal guardian. I continue school. And no bodyguard bullshit."

His hand closes around mine, and he smiles, cruelly. 

"A done deal, Solis."

And just like that, I sign my soul to the devil.

~ ~

The first person I meet in the Kòrvac household is Isolde.

She looks at me like I'm something she stepped on by accident. Her eyes rake over me, slow, dismissive, and cruel, and she doesn't even bother hiding it. 

No greeting. No courtesy. Just open contempt.

But I don't even care.

For the past three long weeks since I signed that contract and agreed to co-parent with Lucien, I've stopped caring about a lot of things.

I waited a week before telling my friends. I tell them my boss took an interest in me, and that it turned into an engagement. I smile and pretend I'm happy. Carla even blesses us with tears in her eyes, and guilt pricks at me, but I bury it. 

Lies are easier than truth. Lies keep people alive.

I move with Asher into the Kòrvac mansion. It's massive and beautiful.

And I'm a ghost in it.

Asher, of course, is thrilled. He clings to Lucien like he's a god. He laughs more, smiles wider, and spends every waking moment with his father.

I tell myself I'm happy for him, but the bitterness still settles in my chest like rot.

I hate Lucien with a passion I don't bother hiding. And Lucien barely acknowledges my existence. We share a house, a child, a contract... and nothing else.

One afternoon, I sit alone in my room, staring at my open laptop.

I can't even remember the last time I did something reckless. Something me. I feel boxed in, watched and trapped.

That's when my screen flickers.

A breach attempt.

Someone is trying to break into my firewall.

I blink once, then scoff.

Amateur.

Probably someone Lucien hired to keep tabs on me. I shut it down in seconds, sealing every door. But when I scan deeper, my smile fades.

Too late.

The virus already chewed off a sliver of information.

Annoyed now, I trace the signal. It doesn't lead outside the mansion. It leads inside.

I follow the trail down the hall, past rooms I've learned to avoid, until I stop at an open door.

Isolde.

She's hunched over a computer, fingers flying, jaw clenched. She slams her palm against the desk in frustration.

"After hours," she mutters, "she still manages to block me out?"

I lean against the doorframe, arms crossed.

Ah, so it's you, you little bitch.

And just like that, something sharp and alive curls inside my chest.

Finally. I grin. A little fun.

I step into the room just as Isolde slams her hand on the desk, frustration radiating off her in waves. The screen in front of her is frozen. How sweet, it's my work. 

I smile.

"Careful," I say lightly. "If you hit it any harder, it might actually cooperate out of pity."

She whirls around and our eyes lock.

Something shifts in her expression. It's not fear, but recognition. The kind people get when they realize they've underestimated the wrong person.

"You're good," she says slowly.

"I know."

I push myself off the doorframe and walk in like I own the room. 

"So you tried to crawl into my system," I continue. "You're clever, but sloppy. You left fingerprints everywhere."

Her jaw tightens. "At least, I broke into your firewall."

"No," I correct. "I let you hit it."

Silence.

That's when I turn to leave. I've made my point and said enough.

"Elara."

I pause.

"I know who you are," Isolde says. "You're a Virelli."

The word lands like a slap. Slowly, I turn back.

I step toward her in one smooth movement. "Say that again."

"I won't," she says lightly. "But I could say it to Lucien."

The thought flashes through me. Quick, violent, terrifyingly easy.

Snap her neck. Push her down the stairs. Make it look like an accident.

My fingers twitch, but then... I stop.

I've been running my whole life. Hiding. Surviving.

I'm tired of being scared.

I cross the room and sit down heavily on the chair opposite her.

"You want the truth?" I ask flatly. "Then listen."

"I was born a mistake," I say flatly. "A maid's child. Illegitimate. Untouchable, but never protected."

I swallow. "They beat me. Starved me. Used me."

She doesn't interrupt but sits. 

"I slept with your brother without knowing who he was. I ran. I survived. I built a life from scraps. Everything I have... I earned it."

When I'm done, my throat burns and I stand.

"Believe me," I say. "Or don't. That's your choice."

I turn to leave, and her hand grabs my wrist.

"I was wrong," Isolde says quietly. "I thought you were a gold digger. Someone trying to trap my brother for his money."

I let out a humorless laugh. "If I wanted his money, I'd have emptied his accounts and disappeared."

"I won't tell anyone," she says. "I swear."

I study her face. 

"Promise," I say. "And in return, I'll teach you things your brother's security team would cry over."

Her eyes light up.

"Deal."

I walk out without looking back. In the hallway, I stop and lift my gaze to the high ceiling.

I have leverage, an ally.

A stronghold inside the Kòrvac household.

I smile to myself.

"I won't back down easily," I whisper. "Lucien Kòrvac."

~ ~

Even with Isolde on my side, I still want to leave, because the mansion suffocates me.

I try everything.

Wigs, glasses, borrowed clothes from the maids. Fake grocery runs. Doctor appointments that don't exist. Even charity visits Lucien's name sponsors...ironic, really. I always lied to Asher that we were going out to have fun or a short trip. But every time, they find us.

I know they do because I always see them. It's a car appearing at the end of the street or a familiar face in a crowd. A quiet reminder that I am never alone.

Lucien's men are good.

Too good. 

It makes my skin crawl.

I hate the way my world has shrunk to corridors and cameras. I hate the way my phone always has a signal, the way my car always starts, the way the gates open only when I'm allowed.

Isolde helps where she can. She reroutes cameras for minutes at a time. Delays reports and deletes small flags. But even she can't blind the whole house.

"It's like you're fighting a hydra," she told me once. "Cut one head, three more watch you."

That doesn't stop me from trying.

Because staying feels like surrender and because every time I see Asher laughing in Lucien's arms, a part of me aches with guilt and another part burns with fear.

What if he grows up thinking cages like this are normal?

What if he learns that love looks like control?

I won't let that happen.

So I plan again.

A smaller bag this time, just essentials, passports, and cash,, and I have a route I've tested twice. An exit window measured down to the second.

This time, I almost made it.

Almost.

It's the middle of the night, and that's when Lucien catches me leaving the front door. I'm dragging Asher's suitcase with him strolling sleepily behind me (I'd told him I was taking him to a surprise party), which I was...all the way in Canada,, and I'm certain they wouldn't catch me because I'd blocked the CCTV cameras from recording. Until...

"Where the fuck do you think you're going?"