Killian's POV The moment I saw the New York Chronicle headline, I knew Naomi was screwed. "The Kensington Wedding Disaster: A Night of Fire, Fights, and Failure!" It was plastered across the front page in bold, damning letters. Below it, an unflattering photograph of Naomi standing in the middle of the ruined ballroom, her face pale, her eyes wide with horror. I clicked on the article and skimmed through it, already knowing what I'd find. "Naomi Lancaster, owner of Lancaster Luxe Events, was responsible for what was supposed to be the wedding of the decade. Instead, it became one of the most humiliating disasters in high society history." "Guests were met with chaos-champagne shortages, misplaced seating arrangements, and an undercooked main course that had several attendees complaining of food poisoning by midnight. But the crowning moment of catastrophe? A fire breaks out near the floral arrangement, forcing the bride and groom to evacuate before even cutting their cake." The comments were even worse. "She should be blacklisted from the industry." "Who the hell let her plan a wedding at this level?" "Kensington money wasted. Naomi Lancaster should never work in this city again." I sat back, exhaling as I scrolled through the relentless criticism. I knew Naomi had built Lancaster Luxe Events from the ground up. She'd clawed her way to the top of New York's event-planning industry, earning herself a reputation as one of the most sought-after names in high-society weddings. And now, it was all unraveling. I should've felt indifferent. This was none of my concern. We hadn't spoken in five years-five years since our divorce, three years since she walked away and never looked back. If she was failing, it was her own damn problem. So why the hell was I still reading? Why had I already placed a call to my lawyers, just to confirm whether or not the lawsuits were real? I closed the article and leaned back in my chair, tapping my fingers under my chin while gazing out the window. The city lay before me, lit by the golden light of the setting sun. My penthouse office was on the top floor of the Blackwood Tower, a reminder of all I had created, all I managed. And yet, control was exactly what I was losing. My own problems were stacking up like a house of cards, and if I didn't act soon, the entire empire I had spent years building would crumble beneath me. The irony wasn't lost on me. Naomi's business was failing. Mine was under siege. And the one solution I had-one that could solve both our problems-depended entirely on whether or not she was desperate enough to take my offer. I tapped a finger against my jaw, considering my options. Naomi was proud. Too proud. She wouldn't come to me willingly. If I showed up now, she'd slam the door in my face. But give her a little time-let the lawsuits pile up, let the Kensingtons drag her name through the mud-then she'd have no choice but to listen. I wasn't a man who left things to chance. I played to win. And this time? I wasn't just playing for myself. I was playing for her, too. Even if she didn't know it yet. **** (Later That Night) "Hey, bro, tell me you've seen the papers today..." Julian's voice came through from the other end of my phone. I sighed, leaning back in my car seat. "I have," I answered, my tone curt as I pressed a finger to the bridge of my nose. "And you have seen it." It wasn't a question but I knew what he was subtly asking me. I exhaled sharply. "Yes, I have seen the Lancaster scandal and no, I am not interested." Julian scoffed. "You've always been such a shitty liar, you know." "Fuck off," I muttered to which he laughed. "You should go visit her, see how she's doing," he added. This time I was the one who laughed out loud. "You did not just tell me to visit my ex-wife like we have been on speaking terms since our divorce?" "Well..." Julian drawled and I could imagine him shrugging. "You can never be sure until you see her." I contemplated his words long after our call ended, if what Julian said was the truth... I shook my head, trying to get rid of all the nonsense thoughts in them. I didn't plan to see her. Not yet. But when my driver arrived at the intersection of Fifth Avenue and I spotted her-sitting alone at an outdoor café, her phone in hand, her gaze far away-I told him to stop. The city was buzzing around her. Taxis honked. Pedestrians hurried by, absorbed in their own lives. But Naomi sat still, hardly touching the untouched coffee before her. She looked different. Not in the obvious ways-she was still stunning, still carried herself with the same effortless grace that used to drive me insane. But there was something else. Something in her posture. Something in how she stared blankly at her phone, as if preparing for the next disaster. I knew that look. It was the look of someone barely keeping their head above water. I could've walked away. Could've ignored the way my chest tightened at the sight of her. But I didn't. Instead, I got out of the car, adjusted my jacket, and crossed the street. Her fingers clutched her phone so tightly that I wondered if she even noticed. I stopped beside her table but she didn't look up as she was self-absorbed into staring at her phone "Still prefer your coffee black, or have your tastes changed?" I called out, my time light and vague. Her head jerked up so fast I almost smirked. Almost. Her gaze met mine, and for a moment, I saw it-the flicker of recognition, the memories of what we had been and what we weren't anymore. Then, just as quickly, her face turned cold. "What the hell are you doing here?" she muttered. "Resorting to stalking now?" I raised an eyebrow and put my hands in my pockets. "I was in the neighborhood." "Bullshit." I let out a quiet laugh. Some things never changed. Naomi has never believed in coincidences. She leaned back in her chair, sitting rigidly. Her defenses were up, the same ones I had tried-and failed-to break through for years. "I honestly don't have time for whatever shit you're trying to pull right now, Killian." She waved vaguely at the space between us, as if the invisible connection between us was more than just a hassle. I ignored her dismissal and took the chair across from her. She exhaled sharply. "Seriously?" I shrugged. "I thought you might like some company." Her jaw tightened, but she didn't ask me to go. That was progress. I leaned back, studying her as my gut clenched. Fuck, she still looked so beautiful. "You look like hell," I said, clearing my throat. "Wow," she muttered, rolling her eyes dramatically. "What a compliment." "You're welcome." I nodded. Her lips twitched, but she quickly masked it with a scowl, shaking her head slightly. For a moment, we both stayed silent. The city continued around us, cars and voices merging into a distant noise. Finally, she sighed. "You read the article." It wasn't a question. I nodded. "It's brutal." She scoffed. "That's one way to say it." The bitterness in her voice made something in my chest tighten. I hated that she was going through this. Hated that I didn't hate it enough to walk away. I could've told her the truth right then. That I had an offer-one that could solve everything, keep her business running, and shield her from the fallout. But I didn't think Naomi was ready to hear it. Not yet. So instead, I just said, "It'll pass." She let out a humorless laugh. "No, Killian. It won't. My company is done. The lawsuits, the bad press-there's no recovering from this." I tilted my head to the side. "Since when do you give up so fast?" A flicker crossed her eyes-anger, perhaps. Or something deeper. Something raw. "I don't," she said quietly. I held her gaze. "Then prove it." She looked at me for a while, as if trying to understand what I wasn't saying. Then, she exhaled and shook her head. "What are you doing here, Killian?" I should've told her. Should've laid out my plan, explained exactly why I needed her, why she needed me. Instead, I just said, "I'll see you soon, Naomi." And before she could argue, before she could put up another wall, I stood and walked away. Because this wasn't the time. But soon? Soon, she'd have no choice but to listen.

Naomi's POV The problem with falling apart is that the world doesn't stop for you. Bills still arrive in the mail. The sun still rises. People still expect you to function, to smile, to be normal. I was anything but. I didn't know how long I sat in my car outside my apartment building, my fingers clutching the steering wheel as if it was the only thing keeping me grounded. My phone vibrated in the cupholder. Another call. Another responsibility. Another thing I couldn't deal with right now. It had been a week since I last saw him. Killian Royce. Just thinking about his name made my stomach tighten. He was the man who once stood beside me at the altar, vowing forever, only to break those words like they were nothing. And now, he was back in my life in a way I never saw coming. I remembered the moment I laid eyes on him again. He was just as handsome as ever-his sharp jaw, his piercing eyes, the way he carried himself with that effortless confidence. It made my heart race, just like it used to. No matter how much time had passed, he still had the power to affect me. And that terrified me. I forced my hands off the steering wheel and rubbed my temples. I was exhausted. Beyond exhausted. Between fixing last-minute problems and watching my business slowly fall apart, I had no space left to think about anything else. The wedding I had planned for months-the one that had to be perfect-had fallen apart right in front of me, like a house of cards. A scandal that left my company, Lancaster Luxe Events, on the brink of collapse. Clients kept backing out. Vendors were reluctant to partner with me. My reputation, which I had built, was shattered. And now, there was Killian. I exhaled sharply and finally grabbed my phone, checking my notifications. Tara: Pick up your damn phone, Naomi. Tara: I mean it. Tara: I'm coming over to your house if you don't reply in five minutes. I sighed, unlocked my car door, and got out. My best friend could be unstoppable when she wanted to, and ignoring her was about as effective as trying to stop a hurricane with an umbrella. I hardly reached the stairs before I heard hurried footsteps behind me. "You look like hell," Tara tsked, standing in my doorway with takeout and a six-pack of wine coolers. "Thanks," I said as I walked past her and tossed my keys on the counter. "Just what I needed to hear." She followed me in, dropping the food onto my small dining table. "I say this with love, but seriously, when did you last sleep?" I opened the fridge, pretending to search for something, even though all I had was old milk and half a bottle of orange juice. "I don't know. Maybe yesterday?" "Liar." Tara shut the fridge door and turned me to face her. "Talk to me." I closed my eyes for a brief moment feeling tears brim behind them. "It's bad, T. Really bad." She sighed, pulling me toward the table and making me sit down. "Okay, start from the beginning." So I did. I told her everything. How the wedding disaster had sent my business into a downward spiral. How clients were running. How I was barely keeping things together. Tara listened, nodding, occasionally throwing in a few choice curse words directed at the stupid groomsmen that fought and the bride's mother. But when I was done, she just leaned back and studied me. "And Killian?" she asked quietly. I stiffened. "What about him?" I asked with a frown. "Oh, I don't know," she said with a shrug. "Maybe the fact that you saw your ex-husband after all these years, and you're acting like it didn't affect you deeply." I let out a dry laugh. "It didn't." Tara rolled her eyes. "Naomi." I shoved a hand through my hair. "Fine. Yes, I almost had a panic attack when I saw him again. Yes, it felt like someone reopened a wound I spent years trying to heal. But it doesn't matter now, since he means nothing to me anymore." Tara tapped her nails on the table. "Are you sure about that?" I looked away. Because deep down, I wasn't sure at all. Killian had been the one thing I had never fully recovered from. The one regret I still carried, no matter how much I told myself I was over it. But he had betrayed me, had lied to me about some many things that I didn't even know the truth anymore. And no matter how much time passed, I would never forget that. I grabbed a wine cooler and opened it. "I don't want to talk about him." Tara looked at me for a moment before nodding. "Fine. Then let's talk about Lancaster Luxe Events." I tensed. "Naomi, you need a plan. Fast." I took a slow sip. "I have a plan. I just need to-" "-Pull off a miracle?" she finished. "Because that's what it will take to recover from this mess. You're losing money. Your client list is shrinking. You need something big to turn things around." I sighed and rubbed my forehead. She was right. I needed a high-profile event, something so perfectly executed that it would wipe away the stain of the wedding disaster. But with my resources running low, it felt impossible. Tara drummed her fingers against the table. "Have you considered finding an investor?" I let out a short laugh. "Do you know how hard it is to find someone willing to invest in a failing company? Especially in this industry?" "I know. But you built this from nothing once. You can do it again." I looked down at my drink. The thought of giving up made my stomach twist. I had poured my entire soul into this business. Letting it fail was not an option. "There's one more thing," Tara said. I looked up. "What?" She hesitated. "You might not like it." "Just say it." "There's been... talk." I narrowed my eyes. "Talk?" She bit her lip. "Word around the industry is that Killian is expanding his business ventures. And that he's been looking at potential event planning partnerships." The air in my lungs suddenly felt sharp. No. Absolutely not. Killian was the last person I'd ever ask for help. But as I began to speak, another thought came to mind. What if I have no choice? Sterling Affairs was sinking, and I was running out of lifelines. If Killian was investing in event planning... No. I pushed the thought away, burying it deep. I refused to owe him anything. Tara studied me carefully. "You don't need to do anything drastic, Naomi. But maybe... just think about it." I forced a tight smile. "I don't need his help." She didn't look convinced. Neither was I. But that didn't matter. Because no matter how desperate I was, I would rather lose everything than go crawling back to Killian Payne. Even if, deep down, I had the sinking feeling that fate had other plans.

Killian's Pov

 The numbers weren't in my favor. For the first time in years, I was looking at a scenario where control was slipping through my fingers. Royce Industries had always been a powerhouse, untouchable in the corporate world, but the recent shift in boardroom politics was threatening my hold over everything I had built. I sat at the head of the boardroom table, listening with controlled indifference as one of the senior board members droned on about public perception. "Your divorce had affected your standing more than you realize, Killian," Richard Graves, the longest-serving member of the Royce Industries board, said, his tone heavy with disapproval. "The numbers speak for themselves. Investors prefer stability, and a bachelor at the helm-especially one with a failed marriage in the public eye-raises concerns." I sighed slowly, tapping my fingers on the polished table. "I don't see how my personal life affects the company's performance." "Because perception is reality," Richard shot back. "And right now, the perception is that you're reckless. That you lack the steady foundation required to lead Royce Industries into the next decade." Steady foundation. What he really meant was that my father had managed to maintain the illusion of a perfect family, and in comparison, I was faltering. "You need a solution," another board member chimed in. "A way to present stability. A united front." The unspoken words hung in the air. I already knew where this was going... I actually have for the past few years. They wanted me married again. Or at least, to appear as if I was in a solid, committed relationship. I clenched my jaw. "I'll handle it." Before anyone else could add their unsolicited advice, I pushed back my chair and stood. "This meeting is over," I announced. As I walked out of the boardroom, a thought settled in my mind, one that I had been planning since the scandal, one I hadn't even realized it until my feet led me out of the building, down the street, and into the sleek black car waiting for me. By the time I realized where I was subconsciously heading to, it was too late to turn back. ***** Naomi's office building seemed smaller than I remembered. Not in terms of size-Lancaster Luxe Events had always been housed in a sleek, modern space in the heart of the city-but in presence. The sleek, modern building was a big change from the small, shared office she had started with years ago. It had Naomi's style: sleek, sophisticated, and attention-grabbing without trying hard. Inside, the lobby was spotless, filled with the light scent of fresh flowers and vanilla. Employees moved around, their heels clicking on the marble floors, their conversations quiet but efficient. They all had twin looks of exasperation and doom on their faces, like they were all just waiting for the final word from their boss to confirm that their job offers were revoked. I had to give them props for staying this long tho, many other people would have bolted for the hills by now. As I walked past them, they all stopped whatever they were doing to openly gawk at me. Some gazed were filled with curiosity as to why I was here but a few of them were rounded in shock... They probably recognized me as Naomi's ex-husband. I walked toward the front desk, where a young woman-Naomi's assistant, I presumed-froze as soon as she looked up. Her eyes widened. "M-Mr. Royce?" I arched a brow. "I'd like to see Naomi." She hesitated. "She's-" "Tell her I'm here." My voice left no room for argument. She swallowed hard before nodding rapidly, picking up the phone with trembling fingers. After a hushed exchange, she looked up, still visibly startled. "Ms. Lancaster said to send you in." I nodded and walked past her toward Naomi's office. I reached the door with her name on it, grabbed the handle, and pushed it open. The moment I stepped inside, my eyes found her. Naomi. She stood by her desk, arms crossed, eyes sharp as they locked onto me. And just like before, she was the most beautiful woman I had ever seen. It wasn't just her looks-though those were impossible to ignore. It was the way she carried herself, with quiet strength and effortless grace. Her dark hair was pulled into a neat bun, showing off the soft angles of her face. High cheekbones, full lips, and those piercing eyes that missed nothing. The emerald-green dress she wore fit her perfectly, making it hard to look away. For a moment, I just stared. The way she stood, the slight lift of her chin, the way her fingers tapped against her arm-she was already annoyed with me. "Are you here to just stare, or do you actually have a reason for darkening my doorstep?" Her voice was cool, unimpressed. I smirked, a slight tug at the corner of my lips. "I promised I'd see you soon, didn't I?" She gave a dry laugh and shook her head. "Right. Because that was exactly what I needed to complete my day-my ex-husband showing up unannounced." I stepped further into the room, my hands going into my pockets. "You look well." She arched a brow. "And you look just the same-infuriating." I laughed, noting the sharpness in her tone. Her passion had always been strong, even when aimed at me. Especially then. Naomi sighed and crossed the room to sit at her desk. "What do you want, Killian?" "Can't I stop by to see how my ex-wife is doing in her business?" She scoffed and scoffed back in her chair. "Cut the act. Are you here to gloat?" I arched a brow. "Gloat?" She crossed her arms. "Don't play dumb. My business is falling apart, and you know it. You always did like watching people squirm." I tilted my head to the side. "You seem to be on...edge. Are you somehow bothered by my presence?" She copied my movement, looking bored. "Don't get too full of yourself, Royce," she said, rolling her eyes. Lies. Naomi was always good at hiding her feelings. But I knew better. The slight tension in her jaw and her fingers tightening on the armrest-I was under her skin. I stepped closer, noticing her expression shift. "I have a proposal." She exhaled sharply. "If this is about buying me out, you can forget it. I'm not selling." Another smile tugged at my lips. "I don't want your business, Naomi." Her brows met together in a tight frown. "Then what?" I merely lifted my shoulders in a small shrug, and made my way to the chair in front of her table. "It's just a proposal, one that could benefit and save your company." A humorless laugh escaped her lips. "Right. Because trusting you has always gone well for me." Her words were sharp and bitter, an emotion I knew all too well. "You don't have to trust me, Naomi. You just have to listen," I told her. She sighed and ran a finger through her hair. "Fine. I'm listening." I leaned in slightly, my voice lowering. "A partnership." Her brows pulled together. "What?" I tapped my fingers against the table. "You need damage control. You need to show people that Luxe Events is still the best in the business. That the scandal from that wedding isn't a reflection of you." She crossed her arms. "And what? You're just offering to be my charity case?" I chuckled. "Not quite. I have an event coming up that needs discretion and attention to detail-your specialty." A look of suspicion crossed her face. "What kind of event is this?" I hesitated for a beat. "A wedding." Her body tensed. "You want me to plan a wedding?" I gave a slow nod. She gasped and shook her head. "You must be out of your damn mind." "Am I?" I asked, tilting my head slightly. "Think about it. If you pull this off-if you execute a flawless, high-profile event-it'll rebuild your reputation. People will forget about the last wedding disaster." She looked at me, disbelief in her eyes. "And let me guess... there's a catch." I smirked. "There's always a catch." Silence hung between us, heavy with unspoken thoughts. Finally, she sighed yet again-she seemed to be doing that a lot lately. "I don't trust you." "You already said that." "And yet, here I am, thinking about whatever crazy plan you have." I just pinned her with a look. "Because you know I'm right." Her eyes narrowed for the slightest second before she nodded. "I need details." "You'll have them. But first..." I took out my phone, quickly typing a message before putting it back in my pocket. "You'll get a contract by tomorrow," I said. "Look it over. Then we'll talk." Naomi studied me for a long moment, as if searching for the catch, for the angle. Finally, she sighed. "Fine. Send it over." A slow smile pulled at my lips. Checkmate.