At five in the next morning, Aurora silenced her alarm and slipped out of bed, the faint predawn glow just beginning to brush the horizon. She laced up her running shoes and jogged along the quiet riverside.

By the time she returned home, the city was waking. After a quick shower, she dressed neatly and headed to the TV station, ready to anchor the eight o'clock financial segment.

When the broadcast wrapped, she made her way back to her desk—only to nearly collide with Lana.

Lana stood there holding a lavish bouquet of crimson roses, their fragrance filling the corridor.

"Morning, Aurora," Lana said brightly.

Aurora offered a polite nod, her eyes flicking to the flowers. "They're lovely."

Unbothered by the curious glances around them, Lana tilted her chin and smiled with smugness. "Leland sent them."

A ripple of scorn swept through their colleagues—meaningful smirks, exchanged looks. After meeting just last night, Lana and Leland were already making quite the statement this morning. Her eagerness to flaunt her new backer drew only cool, dismissive glances from the colleagues. To them, her public bragging looked foolish—almost reckless. Didn't she worry about tripping over her own smugness later?

Aurora merely offered a polite smile, uninterested in joining the spectacle. "That's nice," she responded lightly.

Lana tilted her chin, her voice crisp and edged with provocation. "Oh, come on, Aurora. My little bouquet can't compare to your reward." Her tone dripped with mock admiration as she raised her voice for everyone to hear. "You charmed Mr. Rockefeller last night, and he immediately sealed a two-year sponsorship contract for you."

She leaned in close, covering her mouth with one hand while deliberately speaking loud enough for the office to catch every word. "Mr. Rockefeller must be quite pleased with your performance last night, right?"

A faint crease deepened between Aurora's brows. "That's nonsense."

Lana's eyes glinted with amusement. "Oh, drop the act. Mr. Saunders confirmed the contract first thing this morning—the sponsor's none other than Mr. Rockefeller."

Aurora froze, the news sinking in before she could form a response. Then, Marc's voice rang out across the office. "Aurora, get ready—we're meeting Mr. Rockefeller in ten minutes."

Aurora paused, her expression darkening.

Lana crossed her arms with a smug little smirk. "Well?"

...

Aurora's head still felt clouded as she slid into Marc's car, the cityscape blurring past on their way to the tallest tower downtown.

Marc, cheerful as ever, strode up to the reception desk and announced with practiced ease, "We have an appointment with Mr. Rockefeller."

Aurora furrowed her brows slightly. Why would she and Marc be meeting Grayson here? Wasn't Grayson supposed to be in the Prosecutor's Office?

While he handled the formalities, Aurora drifted a few steps back, her gaze lifting to the gleaming AF Global Tech logo mounted high on the wall. The bold letters—AF—struck her like a spark from the past.

Those same initials had once been scribbled in pencil across a library notebook during her junior year, when she and Grayson used to whisper plans between stacks of textbooks—dreaming of launching a tech start-up together the moment they scraped together enough capital.

But three months later, Grayson had accepted a coveted position at the Odonrith Prosecutor's Office—and ended their relationship without hesitation.

She hadn't begged him to stay. She hadn't even let herself cry. Faced with the collapse of her dreams and the sting of betrayal, she had chosen quiet acceptance over despair.

Just then, the receptionist smiled at Marc and Aurora and said, "Our CEO is ready to meet you. His assistant will lead you to his office."

Walking into Grayson's office behind his assistant, Aurora carried that same composed calm with her.

By the window, Grayson stood mid-conversation on the phone, his voice low and fluent in a foreign tongue—the very language of the country where Aurora had once studied abroad.

Settling onto a sleek black leather sofa, Aurora took in her surroundings. The décor was understated yet refined—clean lines, cool hues, every detail reflecting Grayson's restrained sophistication.

Grayson wore a tailored dark gray suit, the fine wool catching the light as he moved, exuding effortless authority. When his gaze finally found Aurora, he paused for a heartbeat before ending the call.

"Sorry to keep you waiting," he remarked smoothly, crossing the room to take a seat opposite Marc and Aurora, his composure as impeccable as ever.

Marc's grin stretched wide. "No worries, Mr. Rockefeller—we're more than happy to wait." A sponsorship worth fifty million was enough to justify waiting all day if needed.

Grayson casually rolled up his sleeves, his movements unhurried as he reached for the coffee pot. "Still taking it with milk, no sugar?" he inquired, his voice carrying a quiet, unforced ease.

Aurora didn't answer. Her gaze lingered on the carton of milk he had already picked up, the small, familiar gesture stirring something deep inside her. Hadn't he already decided for her?

Marc, oblivious to the charged silence, jumped in eagerly. "Anything's fine, really. We're not picky."

The rich aroma of freshly brewed coffee mingled with the faint grassy scent of Grayson's cologne, a fragrance uniquely his.

The moment wrapped around Aurora like a memory—familiar, intoxicating. That subtle scent had once been her weakness, the quiet addiction she could never quite escape.

Grayson's long fingers offered Aurora the coffee with deliberate calm. Aurora accepted it with a polite nod, murmured a soft "thank you," and set the cup down untouched.

The small courtesy faded as they turned to business.

Before any contract could be signed, Grayson presented his stipulation. "My request is simple. I want your station to air reports during prime time for the next three nights, covering the recent Topspeed Lightning electric vehicle fire cases. Emphasize that the cause lies in underdeveloped technology—preferably with a compiled segment highlighting multiple incidents."

His voice was even, though his tone carried a glacial firmness.

Aurora, who had been closely following the latest in artificial intelligence and clean-tech, recognized Topspeed Lightning as one of the industry's frontrunners. Meeting his gaze through the faint gleam of his gold-rimmed glasses, she replied carefully, "Mr. Rockefeller, there's still no official verdict on whether those fires stem from immature technology. If our station airs such a claim now, it might be seen as manipulating public perception."

Grayson's left hand draped lazily over the armrest as his gaze locked on hers. "A two-year sponsorship in exchange for highlighting a few incidents—you can weigh which holds more weight."

Aurora's breath caught. She'd known AF Global Tech's launch was just three days away, but discovering Grayson was the CEO left her stunned. He hadn't changed—still the master strategist, calculating every move.

Her eyes chilled as she straightened in her seat. "Mr. Rockefeller, the financial channel isn't a pawn for you to build your empire on."

A faint smile tugged at the corners of Grayson's mouth. "So, Miss Flynn, is that a refusal?"

In the stillness that followed, the office felt almost frozen.

Grayson sat rigidly on the sofa, his gaze locked on the seat where Aurora had just been, a shadow darkening his expression. The cup of coffee he'd carefully brewed for her sat untouched, the steam long gone. Her distant demeanor toward him had cut sharper than frost, leaving a chill clinging to the air.

Just then, Grayson's assistant returned to the office, lowering his voice. "Mr. Rockefeller, I have just seen Miss Flynn and Mr. Saunders off. Do we still need to follow up on the contract?"

Grayson's eyes lingered on the abandoned cup, a fleeting emotion flickering beneath his calm exterior. The moment passed, leaving only the glacial mask he wore so well. After a beat, his voice came low and restrained. "Leave it for now."

...

As the car eased into motion, Marc drummed his index finger against the console in front of Aurora, irritation sharpening his tone. "Aurora, what the hell is wrong with you? It's only some car fire reports—nothing worth stressing over. Why did you have to pick a fight with Mr. Rockefeller?"

Aurora's gaze fell to her shoes, voice quiet but firm. "When we report, we owe the truth to the public. We must stay fair and objective. What you consider trivial might be the downfall of a company, or even a family."

A flicker of irritation crossed Marc's face. His brows knit as he snapped, "If you care that much about being fair, you should've gone to law school! Be a judge, a prosecutor—anything but a news anchor!"

Aurora said nothing, shoulders drooping as she dropped her gaze.

Marc, frustrated by her silence, flung his hand in the air with a sharp gesture. "Aurora, you're being utterly foolish! We're talking about a two-year sponsorship contract worth fifty million! That's no small matter! You either go make things right with Mr. Rockefeller yourself, or you find another sponsor fast. Otherwise, the hosting spot for this year's gala of the Financial Beacon will go to Lana! She's new, but she knows how to play the game—and the station favors people who deliver."

The Financial Beacon was the crown jewel of the financial channel, a program every anchor dreamed of hosting. Aurora had held that honor three years in a row, but with Lana's arrival, her grip on the spot had loosened.

Online discussions buzzed with speculation, many insisting that Lana would inevitably claim the role and outshine Aurora as the new rising star.

Six months earlier, shortly after her arrival, Lana had cornered Aurora in the restroom, smugly declaring that the station manager planned to mold her into "the next Aurora." Her hunger for fame had never been subtle.

Aurora responded with a faint, composed smile, her voice steady, "Alright, I understand."

When they returned to the station, Marc stormed back into his office, the door banging shut behind him with a sharp thud that made heads turn across the space.

Murmurs rippled through the open floor, but no one dared ask.

Five minutes later, the door cracked open. Marc's voice came out low but curt. "Lana, get in."

Lana rose at once, smoothing her skirt and gliding toward his office with a practiced smile.

Across the room, the director of her program, Sylvie Lawson, rolled her chair over to Aurora's desk, curiosity lighting her eyes. "Aurora, what on earth happened? Marc looked perfectly cheerful when you two left this morning. What was it that set him off?"

Aurora didn't glance up from the financial brief she was preparing, her tone even. "It's off."

Confusion flickered briefly in Sylvie's gaze. "What do you mean, off?"

"The two-year sponsorship deal," Aurora replied simply, flipping a page.

Shock rippled through Sylvie's gaze, her eyes stretching wide. "You've got to be kidding me, Aurora! You actually turned down a deal that massive?"

A wry smile touched Aurora's lips.

Lana strutted out of Marc's office, her grin wide and brimming with triumph. She headed straight for Aurora, waving her interview notebook like a trophy. "Aurora, you won't believe it. Thanks to you, Mr. Saunders just handed me the script for the exclusive interview with that economics guru."

Aurora's face remained composed, her tone cool as she offered a polite word of congratulations.

With a toss of her hair, Lana sauntered back to her desk. A moment later, her voice rang out across the office. "Aurora!"

Aurora turned from her computer, meeting Lana's gleaming eyes across the partition.

After a heartbeat of scrutiny, Lana couldn't hold back a sharp, delighted laugh. "Mr. Saunders said if nothing goes wrong when I host this year's Financial Beacon gala, I'll be the next you." She gave a dramatic shrug, eyes alight with smugness. "And honestly? Doesn't sound that difficult."

Her words sliced through the office like a bell. Heads lifted, brows furrowed. The senior staff exchanged looks of quiet contempt—none of them had ever seen a newcomer so brazenly announce her intent to steal a colleague's place.

Aurora merely regarded Lana with steady composure, a faint, courteous smile softening her expression. "Well, good luck with the hosting."

Lana, of course, doubted the sincerity behind those words. Before parting, she couldn't resist tossing out one last jab—remarking how foolish it had been for Aurora to reject Grayson's generous offer just to cling to her so-called ethics.

Aurora's face remained unreadable; she refused to dignify the comment with a response.

When the workday finally ended, Aurora's friend, Chloe Morgan—fresh off an exhausting outdoor assignment—invited Aurora to unwind at a quiet lounge bar.

The moment their cocktails arrived, Chloe launched into a lively tirade about Lana's shameless antics, her exaggerated indignation making Aurora burst into laughter.

"Alright, alright. Have a drink before you lose your voice." Aurora slid the cocktail toward Chloe, who tipped back the glass and drained the sapphire-blue drink in a single gulp.

Chloe's gaze sharpened as it landed on Aurora's calm expression. "Let me guess—Grayson's giving you a hard time again, isn't he?

"Not exactly," Aurora replied in a flat tone.

Chloe's indignation flared, her voice rising with every word. "He's the absolute worst! Cold-hearted as ever! Back then, he dumped you without an explanation—and now he just shows up, disrupting your peace. Who the hell does he think he is?"

She thrust a dart into Aurora's hand and nodded toward the bullseye pinned to the wall. "Go on, aim for the center. Pretend it's Grayson's smug face and let it fly. That scumbag deserves every hit."

Aurora narrowed her eyes and raised her arm, focusing on the target. But just as she released the dart, someone brushed past, jarring her elbow. The dart veered off course—straight into the sleeve of a sharply tailored suit.

The owner turned, and the air thickened. Grayson stood there, expression dark as storm clouds, clearly having caught every scathing word.

Chloe froze mid-breath and then stepped forward, shielding Aurora instinctively. "Grayson, don't you dare take this out on Aurora," she warned, voice fierce despite her nerves. "Aim whatever you want to do at me. Just leave her alone."

As Aurora looked at Grayson, a subtle tic betrayed the calm on her face.

Aurora gently brushed Chloe's hand aside and stepped forward, facing Grayson with quiet poise. Her gaze flicked to the thin scratch marring his tailored suit before she spoke in a polite, measured tone. "Mr. Rockefeller, I apologize for damaging your suit. Please let me know how much it costs to replace it, and I'll make sure you're fully compensated."

Her words, though courteous, carried a chill that drew a line between them as strangers.

Grayson caught every distant syllable like a blade pressed to his chest. Looking down at the damaged fabric, he answered evenly, "It's a custom piece. One hundred sixty thousand. But there's no need to compensate..."

"One hundred sixty thousand? Is that thing stitched with gold thread?" Chloe snapped, glaring at him with open irritation.

Before Chloe could say more, Aurora swiftly pulled out her phone. Her fingers moved without hesitation as she transferred the money to his bank account.

Chloe's eyes widened in disbelief. She seized Aurora's wrist, her voice rising. "Aurora, have you lost your mind? He tossed out some ridiculous number, and you just transferred it?"

Aurora's voice remained composed as she addressed him, "Mr. Rockefeller, the transfer's already been made."

Glancing at his phone, Grayson caught the bank notification flash across the screen. For a fleeting second, emotion stirred behind his calm exterior before he masked it completely. His gaze lifted to her, tone low and steady. "It's still early. How about a drink? Some of our old classmates are here."

"I'll pass," Aurora replied, her voice polite yet distant. "We're heading back now."

"I'll give you a ride," he offered quietly.

"Thank you, but we've called a designated driver." Aurora refused decisively, walking out with Chloe.

The singer's melancholic tune filled the bar, each note trailing after them like a soft echo.

Grayson stayed where he was, surrounded by the hum of conversation and the chill of solitude settling over his shoulders.

...

Outside, headlights swept across the curb as cars pulled in and out.

A gleam of pride lit Chloe's face as she gave Aurora a thumbs-up for finally pushing back at Grayson. "Did you see Grayson's face just now, Aurora? He looked ready to explode."

Looping her arm through Aurora's, Chloe burst into laughter so hard that she nearly lost her balance. "But seriously, why on earth did you send him a hundred and sixty grand that fast?"

"I just don't want to owe him anything," Aurora said quietly.

"You don't owe that bastard a single cent," Chloe said firmly. "It's a suit jacket, not a crown jewel. He's clearly trying to tangle you up again."

"Maybe so." Aurora's voice held no emotion; she had no intention of deciphering Grayson's motives of appearing in her life repeatedly. Whatever he wanted, she no longer cared. She only wanted peace.

As the two approached the curb, a sleek black Maybach eased to a stop before them.

The tinted window slid down with practiced smoothness. Chloe's curiosity vanished the instant she saw the familiar face inside. Her tone sharpened. "Grayson—seriously? You've got some nerve showing up again."

Behind his gold-rimmed glasses, his gaze locked onto Aurora. She turned her face deliberately toward the street, refusing even a glance in his direction.

For a few seconds, silence hung heavy between them. Then, Grayson's low voice cut through the evening air. "Get in the car. I'll take you home."

A trace of simmering rage glinted in Chloe's eyes, darkening her face. "Don't bother—your car's too precious. If it gets a scratch, Aurora might end up broken." She waved him off impatiently. "Just get out of the way. Our car just pulled up."

Grayson's gaze flicked to the rear-view mirror, where a pink car rolled up, its driver leaning out and waving enthusiastically.

Chloe hooked her arm through Aurora's and tugged her toward the car.

The narrow one-way street quickly turned into a bottleneck—Grayson's Maybach idled in the middle, forcing a line of cars to a halt behind it.

Horns blared in growing frustration, yet none of the drivers dared to confront the imposing S-Class with its unmistakable air of privilege.

A weary sigh escaped Aurora's lips. For everyone's sake, she chose to give in. Stepping out of the pink car and sliding into the Maybach, she angled herself toward the window, leaving a deliberate stretch of empty seat between her and Grayson—enough space for two more people.

Silence pressed down until Grayson turned, eyes catching on her folded arms, her posture a quiet barricade. A dull ache pinched at his chest, his gaze flickering with something unspoken. "About what happened back then…" he began, his voice dipped in hesitation.

Aurora met his look head-on, her tone as cool as glass. "Mr. Rockefeller, if you made me get into this car just to revisit what happened five years ago," she cut in aloofly, "then save your breath. There's nothing left to say."

"Rora." Her nickname left his lips in a low murmur, softer than the hum of her phone ringing between them.

Dropping her gaze, Aurora saw the caller ID: Fiancé. She answered naturally.

"Rora, are you on your way home?" The warm voice came through the line.

"Not yet," Aurora replied.

"You with Chloe?" he asked, voice low and probing.

Her fingers tightened faintly around the phone as she cast a glance at Grayson. "With a business associate," she said evenly.

The phrase landed like a blow. Grayson's expression darkened, a shadow sweeping over his features as his eyes turned to frost. Her expression softened with a smile as she spoke on the phone with her fiancé, her voice laced with warmth. While it had been five years since they ended things, it never crossed his mind that she'd one day belong to someone else.

"Tomorrow evening, my uncle will come back home, and my parents want us all to have dinner together. Do you have time?" her fiancé asked gently.

"Sure. Pick me up at the station after work," Aurora answered, her tone light.

"Alright, we'll do it like always—you just need to look beautiful, and I'll take care of everything else."

A quiet laugh escaped Aurora. "Okay."

Her tender voice and the warmth in her smile contrasted sharply with the frosty indifference she'd shown Grayson moments ago.

Watching her softness directed at another man made something twist painfully in Grayson's chest. A flush of anger crept across his handsome face as his long fingers closed around her wrist, pulling her abruptly into his arms. One broad hand slid to the back of her neck, forcing her gaze to meet his.

Startled, Aurora met his eyes—so close, too close—and shoved at his chest. "Grayson, let go of me!" she snapped, her tone cutting and cold.

For an instant, he froze, searching her eyes and finding only distance and chill. Something in him hardened. His jaw tightened as he bent his head and captured her lips in a fierce, desperate kiss.

Aurora jerked against him, every muscle straining as she pushed back with all her strength, refusing to yield.