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.

Grayson halted, his features hardening as he realized how profoundly Aurora recoiled from his touch. A shadow crossed his eyes, bitterness and frustration coiling tight in his chest. With a sudden surge of emotion, he caught her lips again, this time kissing her with rough, desperate intensity.

The force of it stunned Aurora. The familiar sensation only reopened an old wound buried deep within her heart. Her hand flew up on instinct—cracking sharply across his face.

Fingers trembling from the blow, she glared at him, fury flashing in her eyes, her voice cutting cold and clear. "You crashed into my life like it meant nothing, Grayson—and walked out like it meant even less. What the hell makes you think you get to do this now? I'm no longer the woman who would come and go at your beck and call."

The luxury car continued to glide down the road as she reached for the handle, ready to leap out.

Darkness flickered in Grayson's gaze. He caught her slender wrist, his grip firm but trembling. "Rora," he murmured, the low whisper threaded with longing that twisted painfully in her chest.

Aurora jerked her hand away, eyes flashing. "Don't call me that! Whatever we had is over—if you think we can just pick up where we left off, you're mistaken."

At Grayson's quiet command, the driver eased the car to the curb.

Without another word, Aurora pushed open the car door and stepped into the cool night.

Her figure slipped into the darkness, leaving Grayson staring after her until the last trace of her silhouette vanished. Her final words echoed like a curse in his ears. "I'd rather die than be tied to the Rockefeller family again."

He pursed his lips. It was the Rockefeller family that she'd said she wanted nothing to do with. As he reflected, he'd never once introduced her to his family.

...

At the Burton family gathering, laughter and chatter filled the elegant dining hall.

Had Aurora known earlier that the uncle her fiancé had spoken of was Grayson, she might've tempered her sharp words that night. Seated beside her fiancé, Ryan Burton, she stole a glance across the table. Grayson sat opposite, engaged in a light conversation with Ryan's mother, Veronica, his profile calm yet distant. The sight sent an unexpected jolt through her chest.

Catching Aurora's gaze, Veronica offered a warm, hostess-like smile. "Aurora, I just realized I haven't introduced you properly," she said, her tone affectionate as she reached over and patted Grayson's arm. "This is Ryan's uncle, Grayson Rockefeller—my little brother. He's twenty-four years younger than I am."

Aurora lifted her glass gracefully, her expression composed, her voice even. "Pleasure to meet you, Mr. Rockefeller."

Not a flicker of emotion touched her eyes; her greeting carried the cool civility of strangers.

Across the table, Grayson's jaw tensed. His gaze locked onto hers, intense and unwavering.

Sensing the subtle chill in the air, Ryan hurried to ease the tension. "Grayson," he called out lightly, though he couldn't ignore the sharp edge in Grayson's stare directed at Aurora.

Thinking Grayson's expression meant he didn't approve of Aurora, Ryan clasped her hand with a reassuring smile and lifted his glass toward Grayson. "I'm lucky to have Rora by my side," he said warmly. "Here's to you, Grayson."

Grayson's gaze sharpened. "What did you just call her?" His voice came out low and rough, carrying a note of barely restrained anger.

"Rora," Ryan repeated easily, glancing at Aurora with a tender grin. She answered with a soft smile of her own, their quiet intimacy glowing between them.

The sight struck Grayson like a thorn to the heart. His throat tightened as he turned away and drained his glass in one swallow, the burn doing little to dull the ache behind his eyes.

When the dishes arrived, Ryan leaned close, carefully placing food on Aurora's plate.

Aurora froze when she saw the crab legs before her, fork hovering midair. "Ryan, I can't..."

Before she could finish, he misunderstood and cheerfully added a slice of coral trout beside it. "Try this, Rora. These were flown in fresh—Grayson arranged everything himself."

Ryan's family had always lived modestly—his father a university professor, his mother the owner of a small flower shop. Luxuries like these were rare at their table.

Ryan had once told Aurora that Veronica had cut ties with her wealthy family to marry for love, and that choice had shaped the life they now led.

It hadn't occurred to Aurora that Veronica belonged to the formidable Rockefeller family.

Aurora hadn't even caught the faint resemblance between Veronica and Claude Rockefeller—Grayson's imposing father until now. Even after five long years, the memory of Claude standing in her parents' living room, his voice sharp and disdainful, remained vivid. His scornful words and arrogant bearing had cut deep, leaving behind a chill that lingered still.

Aurora's face tightened at the recollection, and her hand clenched around the fork until her knuckles whitened. A wave of nausea rose, twisting in her stomach. "Excuse me," she murmured, her voice roughened by emotion as she pushed back her chair. "I need a moment."

Once inside the restroom, she gripped the sink and turned on the tap, splashing cold water over her face until the sting steadied her breathing. Droplets slid down her cheeks as she stared into the mirror, forcing her expression back under control.

The soft creak of the door broke the silence.

She looked up, the sight locking her in place. Grayson's reflection stood behind her, tall and composed, his eyes unreadable.

The narrow space seemed to shrink around them, the air thick with tension.

Aurora dabbed her face with a tissue and then turned, intent on leaving. But before she could take a step, Grayson moved to block the doorway.

Meeting his gaze head-on, she kept her tone icy. "Mr. Rockefeller, please step aside."

A dangerous glint flashed in Grayson's eyes.

Aurora tried to slip past him, but his hand shot out, catching her wrist in a firm grip. He asked, his tone razor-sharp, "Do you really want to marry a man who doesn't even know you're allergic to seafood?"

She yanked free, her expression icy. "Ryan is your nephew."

The muscles along his jaw tightened, his face shadowed by a stormy darkness.

As Aurora reached for the bathroom door, his voice sliced through the air, cold as steel. "If the Burton family learns our past relationship, do you think they'll still approve you to marry Ryan?"

Without looking back, she answered evenly, "You're welcome to find out, Mr. Rockefeller."

The door swung open, and she stopped dead in her tracks. Ryan stood just outside, surprise flickering across his face as his gaze shifted between her and Grayson. "Rora," he blurted out, eyes wide in disbelief, "why are you and my uncle in there together?"