Liana's POV

The kitchen light buzzed overhead like a dying insect.

I stood frozen, phone in one hand, the black box of lilies still open on the counter. Their scent had turned revolting, the sweetness gone rotten in the small space.

The photo stared up from the screen: me at dawn, rain in my hair, coat clutched like a shield, walking away from the hotel.

Someone had followed me.

Someone had waited across the street with a camera.

It was too grainy but that was me.

My thumb trembled over the reply button.

The second message from the same unknown number sat right above the photo.

My heart slammed so hard I felt it in my throat. I glanced at the window, curtains drawn, but the gap between them showed only wet streetlight and rain-streaked glass. No silhouette. No movement.

Still, the back of my neck crawled.

I set the phone down like it might bite. Breathed. Once. Twice.

Think.

The flowers had arrived after the texts. Same number. Same person.

The only person I could possibly think of is Brian. No, it can't be him or it's it- wait!

Could it be..... Raphael

No, I doubt it.

But even if it was, why the photo? Why not just say "It's me?" Why make it look like surveillance?

Unless he wanted me scared.

Unless he knewI was already scared.

The lilies mocked me from the counter-white petals perfect, stems clipped at sharp angles. Purity. Renewal. Second chances.

I wanted to laugh. Or scream.

Instead I grabbed the box, carried it to the sink, and dumped the flowers in. Water hissed as I turned the tap full blast. Petals swirled down the drain like drowned secrets.

The card fluttered to the floor.

*Hello! Hope you're good?*

I crushed it under my heel.

My phone buzzed again.

I flinched so hard the edge of the counter bit into my hip.

New message. Same number.

"I didn't mean to scare you. Just wanted you to know I was thinking about you."

A pause. Three dots dancing.

Then:

"Can we talk? In person. Just us."

I stared at the words until they blurred.

Just us?

I thought of his mouth on my neck, his hands careful even when they weren't gentle, the way he'd listened-like every word I said mattered. No pressure. No rush.

I believed it then.

Now I didn't know what to believe.

Another buzz.

Tomorrow. The coffee shop on the corner of your street. 8 a.m. I'll wait. If you don't show, I won't contact you again.*

My breath caught.

He knew where I lived.

Of course he did. He'd found my name somehow. LinkedIn. It could be LinkedIn. A quick search. The internet is really helpful.

Right?

The lilies' scent still lingered, faint and accusing.

I picked up the phone. Fingers numb.

I typed one word.

"Why?"

Sent.

The three dots appeared instantly.

"Because one night wasn't enough."

I closed my eyes.

My pulse thundered in my ears.

He didn't know about the rebirth. Didn't know about the poison, the prison, the framed files, the people who'd already tried to erase me once.

He just wanted coffee.

And maybe more.

I opened my eyes.

The kitchen clock ticked past 10:00 p.m.

I had hours to decide.

Go and risk him being part of whatever was closing in.

Or stay away and risk never knowing if the one person who'd made me feel alive again was actually the safest thing in this second chance or the most dangerous.

I looked at the drain. A single white petal clung to the metal, refusing to go down.

My thumb hovered over the keyboard.

Another message came through before I could type.

A single photo.

Not me.

Of a coffee cup. Steam rising. It was black.

His caption:

Table by the window. I'll be waiting.

I laughed short, shocked.

Then the final buzz.

"Please, Liana."

My name in his text felt like a hand on my cheek.

Soft. Dangerous.

I stared at the screen until it dimmed.

One choice.

If I went, I might get answers.

If I didn't...

My phone vibrated once more-not a text this time.

An email notification.

From an internal Blaise Corps address I didn't recognize.

Subject: Access Violation Alert – Immediate Review Required

My stomach plummeted.

I opened it.

The body was short.

Your workstation has triggered an automated security flag. All elevated permissions suspended pending audit. Report to Graham McFadden's office at 09:00 tomorrow. Failure to attend will result in immediate disciplinary action.

Attached: a screenshot of my login activity.

Timestamps matching the ones I'd flagged yesterday.

And one new entry.

Logged in at 02:47 a.m.

From my home IP.

I hadn't touched my work laptop since 7 p.m.

Someone was inside my system.

Right now.

The lilies' last petal finally slipped down the drain.

I looked at Raphael's last message. Then at the email.

Two invitations.

Two traps.

One night to choose which one would kill me first.

I picked up the phone.

Fingers steady now.

I typed three words.

"I'll be there."

Sent.

Then I turned off the kitchen light.Darkness swallowed the room.

But not the sound of my heartbeat.

Or the quiet certainty that tomorrow morning, everything would change.

Again.

Liana's POV

The alarm screamed at 6:45 a.m.

I slapped it silent before it could finish the first note.

My flat smelled like lilies and cold coffee. The black box sat empty on the counter-petals long gone down the drain, but the scent clung anyway, stubborn and sweet. I stood under the shower until the water ran cold, trying to wash away the night's decisions.

I was going.

Not because I trusted him.

Because I needed to see his face when he lied.

Or when he didn't.

Black jeans. Soft grey sweater that hugged in all the right places. Hair down, wild curls still damp from the shower. Lipstick the color of blood. If I was walking into a trap, I'd look like the one setting it.

The coffee shop was fifteen minutes from my door. Small, tucked between a newsagent and a dry cleaner. Floor-to-ceiling windows. Wooden tables. The kind of place that smelled like cinnamon and fresh grounds even when it was empty.

I arrived at 7:58.

He was already there.

Table by the window, just like he'd said.

Black coat draped over the chair back. Dark sweater. Hair is slightly messy, maybe from running his hands through it.

Two cups in front of him, one black, one caramel latte with a swirl of foam on top. He looked up the second my shadow crossed the glass.

His face changed.

Not the cool, controlled CEO from the search results.

Something softer. Almost shy.

He stood too fast, knocking the edge of the table. The spoon clinked against porcelain.

"Liana."

My name in his mouth still sounded like a question he was afraid to ask out loud.

I slid into the seat opposite him without smiling.

"You're early," I said.

"So are you."

His voice was quieter than I remembered. No low rumble, no teasing edge. Just... careful.

I wrapped my fingers around the warm mug. Caramel latte. Exactly how I liked it.

"You remembered."

"I pay attention."

He sat again, hands folding on the table like he didn't know what to do with them. A faint flush crept up his neck.

"I didn't mean to freak you out with the photo," he said before I could speak. "I just... I saw you leaving the hotel from the window. I was still in bed. I took it because-" He stopped, rubbed the back of his neck. "Because I didn't want the night to end. It was sStupid. I'm sorry."

I studied him.

No smirk. No arrogance.

Just a man who looked like he'd spent the night replaying every second the same way I had.

"You know where I live," I said flatly.

He winced. "LinkedIn. Your profile lists the general area. I guessed the coffee shop on the corner. I didn't follow you. I swear."

I sipped the latte. Perfect temperature. Perfect sweetness.

Damn him.

"Why the flowers?" I asked.

He exhaled. "I wanted you to smile. Even for a second. Lilies... they mean new beginnings. I thought-" He laughed under his breath, self-conscious. "I thought maybe you needed one. Maybe with me."

My chest tightened.

He had no idea how right he was.

Or how wrong.

I leaned forward, elbows on the table, voice dropping low and teasing-the way I used to before the world tried to kill me.

"You're sweet, Raphael Blackthorne."

His eyes flicked to my mouth. Then back up. The flush deepened.

"I'm trying."

I let my foot brush his under the table. Just once. Slow.

He froze.

Then his knee pressed back-tentative, like he was asking permission.

I smiled. Slow. Wicked.

"You're also CEO of Oraion. My company's biggest rival. Did you think I wouldn't look you up?"

His expression shifted, ksurprise, then something like relief.

"I hoped you would," he admitted. "I didn't want to hide it. I just... didn't want that to be the first thing you knew about me."

I tilted my head. "What did you want me to know first?"

He looked at me like I was the only thing in the room.

"That I haven't stopped thinking about you since you walked out that door."

Heat curled low in my belly.

Dangerous heat.

I leaned closer, voice a whisper. "Careful, big guy. I bite when I'm cornered."

His laugh was soft. Shy. "I think I'd like that."

I let my fingers trail across the back of his hand, just a graze.

He sucked in a breath.

Then his fingers turned, caught mine. Gentle. Warm. Thumb brushing my knuckles like I was something precious.

"I want to take you to dinner," he said quietly. "Proper dinner. Not a hotel bar. Not a rushed night. Just... you and me. With dood food and wine.

"No pressure."

I arched my brow. "You think you can handle me over three courses?"

"I think I'd like to try."

His eyes were earnest. Almost boyish.

My sarcastic armor cracked-just a fraction.

I pulled my hand back slowly, letting my nails drag along his palm.

"Maybe," I murmured. "If you're good."

He smiled-small, hopeful, devastating.

Then his phone buzzed on the table.

He glanced at it. Frowned.

"Work," he said apologetically. "I have to-"

"Go," I finished. "CEO things."

He stood, hesitated. Leaned down.

"Can I kiss you goodbye?"

I tilted my face up.

I had expected him to kiss my lips, but instead he pressed his lips softly against my cheeks.

Then he pulled back.

"Tonight?" he asked. "Dinner?"

I clear my throat, steadying my racing heart.

"Text me the details."

He grinned.

Then he was gone, with his coat on and long strides toward the door.

I watched him disappear into the rain.

My phone buzzed.

Not from him.

From Blaise Corps internal.

Graham McFadden: My office. Now. We need to talk about the overnight login from your home IP. Security is already on site.

My blood went cold.

I looked at the empty chair across from me.

Raphael's coffee cup still steamed.

Graham's email burned in my inbox.

Two worlds colliding.

One hour until the audit.

And the sweet man who just kissed me goodbye had no idea the noose around my neck had just tightened another inch.

I stood.

Grabbed my coat.

And walked straight into the storm.

Raphael's POV

The boardroom doors closed with a quiet click. The noise from the main office disappeared. It was just me, the long table, and the big screen on the wall.

I walked to the front. Jacket off. Sleeves rolled up. No time to sit and act fancy.

The screen lit up. Red lines everywhere on the graphs. Timelines squeezed tight. My team was already waiting: Jackson on my right with his tablet, Elena tapping her pen fast, Marcus from legal looking serious with his tight tie.

"Tell me," I said.

Elena spoke first. "The launch date is getting shorter. Blaise Corps just added more time to their patent for data protection. It looks almost the same as our main code. If they win, we lose months in court. Maybe lose customers too."

I leaned on the table. My hands pressed hard on the glass. "How similar?"

"Very close," Marcus said. "We can fight it, but it will take time and money we need for the launch."

Everyone went quiet. Oraion was not just a company to me. It was everything. I grew up with nothing. Foster homes. No parents. No one to trust. I learned to build my own safety. Code was my way out. I made Oraion big because I never wanted anyone to take it from me again.

"What can we do?" I asked.

Jackson answered. "We speed up our test version. Show investors we are ahead. And we watch their public news and filings. If they are rushing something, we can be ready."

I nodded. "Good. Elena, make the code stronger. Marcus, prepare our side of the story. Jackson, keep an eye on their announcements. No tricks. Just stay ahead."

They agreed. The meeting ended. People left.

Jackson stayed behind. "You okay, Rafe? You look like you didn't sleep."

I gave a small smile. "Late night."

He raised one eyebrow. "The good kind?"

"Maybe."

He laughed quietly. "Just don't let it mess up the launch. We need you here."

"I'm here."

He left. The door closed.

I sat alone. My head hurt a little.

My mind kept going back to her.

Liana.

This morning at the coffee shop was different from what I expected. I got there early. Hands sweaty. I ordered her caramel latte because I remembered she said she liked sweet things. When she walked in, grey sweater, hair loose and curly, red lipstick, I forgot how to talk for a second.

She teased me. Her foot touched mine under the table. I felt hot in my face. I'm not usually shy. I talk to big investors and fix hard problems every day. But with her? Yeah. Shy.

She said, "You think you can handle me over three courses?"

I wanted to pull her close over that table right there. Show her how much I could handle. But I didn't. I stayed gentle. I wanted her to feel safe with me.

I took out my phone. Sent the dinner message: "8 p.m. Le Gavroche. Wear whatever makes you feel strong."

Then another: "Can't wait."

I put the phone away. I tried to focus on work again.

The patent file from Blaise was still open. I read it quickly. Something felt strange. The words were rushed. Like someone wrote it fast.

My desk phone rang. "Mr. Blackthorne? Your 10 a.m. with investors is ready."

"Coming."

The meeting went long. Numbers. Plans. Questions. I answered everything calmly and clearly. That's what people expect from me.

But my phone kept buzzing in my pocket.

I ignored it.

It buzzed again.

And again.

When the meeting ended at 11:15, I checked.

Three missed calls. Unknown number.

One voicemail.

I played it in my office with the door closed.

A man's voice. Calm but serious. "Mr. Blackthorne, this is Marcus from legal. We just got a strange email from an outside source. It claims someone inside Oraion is leaking small pieces of our code to a competitor. No proof yet, just a tip. They want us to check our own team. Call me back."

My stomach dropped.

Leaking code?

We had strong security. No one inside would do that.

I called Marcus back.

He answered quickly.

"Rafe. The email came from a fake address. But it had one detail that worried me-a timestamp from last night, 2:47 a.m. Said someone accessed our test server at that time."

I frowned. "We have logs. Did we see anything?"

"Nothing unusual. But the tip said to look closer at external connections. It feels like someone is trying to start trouble for us."

I rubbed my face. "Send me the email. I'll look at it myself."

"Already in your inbox."

I hung up. I opened my laptop.

The email was short. No sender name. Just words:

Someone in Blaise Corps is trying to ruin you. Look at the 2:47 a.m. access. You'll see.*

Attached: a fake-looking screenshot of our server logs.

I stared at it.

The time was real, 2:47 a.m, but the access was from an old test account we shut down months ago. Harmless. Probably someone playing games.

But why send it now?

Why today?

My phone buzzed again.

Text from Liana.

"Can't make dinner. Something came up. Sorry."

No more words.

No explanation.

Just sorry.

I stared at the message.

My chest felt tight.

She sounded different. She sounded distant.

Was she okay?

Was this connected?

I looked at the clock.

11:30.

I had a full day ahead, more meetings, codes to reviews, investor calls.

But all I could think about was her face this morning. The way she smiled when I got shy. The way her fingers brushed mine.

I typed back quickly.

"Is everything okay? If you need anything, I'm here."

Sent.

No answer.

I put the phone down.

I tried to focus.

But the strange email sat open on my screen.

And Liana's text sat unanswered.

Something felt wrong.

Very wrong.

I stood up.

Grabbed my coat.

I needed air.

Or answers.

As I walked to the elevator, my assistant called out.

"Mr. Blackthorne! You have an urgent call on line one. It's from an outside security firm. They say they found unusual activity in our test server last night. They want to speak to you right away."