Bryan's POV

I had only stopped at the court because my driver needed to pick up a file from one of the legal officers handling a case against my company. I did not plan to stay long. I just wanted the document and to head straight back to the office.

But then the car door suddenly opened, and a woman rushed in. She was looking tense, and her face was pale.

"Please, drive," she said quickly, with her voice shaking.

The driver turned back, confused. "Ma'am, this isn't..."

"Just go!" she shouted.

Her hands trembled as she pressed herself into the seat, not even looking at me. For a moment, I just stared at her. Something about her felt familiar, but I couldn't place it yet.

"Drive," I said quietly to the driver.

He hesitated for a second, then started the engine and pulled out of the court premises.

I turned my eyes back to her. Her head was bent low, her hair covering half her face. I could see her chest breathing heavily.

Then it hit me. Her face and her voice were very familiar. It was her.

The same woman who had hit my car in Paris months ago, and the one who fainted on the plane back to London.

What were the odds of meeting her three times in three different places?

But something else nagged at me. I had seen her name before. Recently. Where was it?

Then I remembered. The file was on my desk yesterday. The lawsuit from Sterling & Cross Holdings. The list of former employees they claimed had stolen confidential information.

Her name was there. Alice Morgan.

Sterling & Cross. The same company that had destroyed mine five years ago. The same company I had been hunting ever since.

And now she was sitting in my car.

I leaned back slowly, my mind going back to that day in Paris.

It was supposed to be a quiet weekend at my grandmother's mansion. She had called me again, complaining that I worked too much and never visited her. I went only to keep her from sending more messages.

She sat in her big chair with her walking stick beside her. "Bryan Hale," she said, calling my full name the way she always did. "You're thirty-two and still have no wife. Do you think money will keep you warm when you're old?"

I rubbed my temples. "Grandma, please don't start."

She kept talking anyway. "All the girls you bring are the same. Pretty but empty. No sense, no class, and no future. You need a woman who will keep you grounded."

I stood up. "I'm not interested in marriage."

She laughed bitterly. "That's why your life feels cold."

Her words got to me more than I wanted to admit. I left the house angry, got into my car, and drove off without direction.

I was still rushing to the airport when a car hit me from behind. I got down, frowning, ready to yell. But the woman who stepped out looked so scared and flustered that I froze.

She didn't even look at my face. She just bowed quickly. "I'm sorry, sir! I'm so sorry!"

Before I could even say a word, she jumped back into her small blue car and drove off.

I didn't chase her. I just stood there, confused and watching her car disappear.

Something about her lingered in my head for days, but I pushed it aside. I had no reason to remember a stranger. Or so I thought until the next time I saw her.

It was on my flight back to the UK. I had boarded late because of a delay, and to make it worse, my seat in first class had been taken by mistake. I had to settle for a seat in business class, and I was angry the whole time.

Mid-flight, I got up to use the restroom, and when I tried to open the door, it was locked. After knocking twice, I heard a faint sound, like someone falling. I forced the door open, and there she was again.

It was the same woman. But this time, she was on the floor, unconscious.

I called the hostess quickly, and we helped her back to her seat. I didn't say a word after that, but I kept watching her quietly.

I didn't even know her name, yet somehow, I couldn't forget her face.

Now here she was again, sitting beside me in my car. And I knew exactly who she was. Alice Morgan. Former financial analyst at Sterling & Cross Holdings.

The company that had sabotaged Hale Enterprises five years ago. The company that planted false reports, bribed officials, and manipulated contracts to destroy my $500 million development project. The company that nearly bankrupted me.

I had spent three years rebuilding. And the last two years investigating them quietly, gathering evidence and tracking their crimes.

But I was missing something. The smoking gun. Internal documents that proved deliberate fraud.

And Alice Morgan had worked in their finance department. She would have seen everything.

She still didn't look at me. Her eyes stayed glued to the window with her hand clutching her purse tightly.

This wasn't a coincidence. It couldn't be. Three times? Paris, the plane, and now here?

Was she following me? Was Sterling & Cross using her to get close to me?

Or was she running from them?

When we reached the main road, the driver slowed down and looked at me through the mirror.

"Sir, should I keep going?" he asked.

"Yes," I said without thinking.

I could feel her glance at me for the first time. It was quick and nervous. She probably thought I was going to throw her out, but I didn't.

For some reason, I wanted to know why she was running.

We drove in silence for almost fifteen minutes before she suddenly said, "You can stop here."

The driver slowed down near the next corner, and before the car had even fully stopped, she opened the door and got out quickly.

She didn't look back. She just ran across the road and disappeared into the crowd.

I stared through the window until she was gone. I had no idea why, but my chest felt tight watching her leave.

"Let's go," I said quietly.

The driver nodded and turned the car back toward the company.

My secretary rushed to me with files in her hand the moment I entered my office.

"Sir, the new documents from Sterling & Cross just came in," she said. "They're pushing harder on the lawsuit. They claim we breached contract terms on the Silverline project."

"Leave it," I said, taking the folder from her.

After she left, I sat down and opened the file. Sterling & Cross was suing us for allegedly stealing their client. It was nonsense. They were the ones who had stolen from us five years ago.

As I flipped through the pages, I stopped when I saw a printed document titled 'List of Former Employees—Confidential.'

There were dozens of names, each with a small picture beside it. I scrolled through, reading absently, until one name made my hand freeze.

Alice Morgan.

And beside the name was her picture. The same face I had just seen in my car.

For a few seconds, I didn't even breathe. I just stared at the name and the photo, feeling something heavy drop inside my chest.

But there was more. Next to her name was a note in red: "TERMINATED—Suspected of document theft and embezzlement. DO NOT REHIRE."

My jaw tightened.

So, they had fired her. And they had branded her a criminal.

Why?

What had she seen? What had she found?

I leaned back in my chair, my mind racing. This changed everything.

Alice Morgan wasn't working for Sterling & Cross. She was running from them.

And if they had gone so far as to destroy her reputation, it meant she knew something. Something big enough to threaten them.

My phone rang. It was Antonio.

"Bryan, we need to talk," he said. "I just found out something about the woman from the accident."

"I know who she is," I said quietly.

"You do?"

"Alice Morgan. Former financial analyst at Sterling & Cross. They fired her and framed her for embezzlement."

There was a pause. "How do you know all this?"

"She just got into my car outside the courthouse. And her name is on the Sterling & Cross lawsuit file."

Antonio was quiet for a moment. "This can't be a coincidence."

"It's not," I said. "She has something they want. And I need to find out what."

"What are you going to do?" He asked.

I looked at her picture again.

"I'm going to find her. And I'm going to make her an offer she can't refuse."

I closed the file and stood up, pacing to the window as my mind was already forming a plan.

Alice Morgan had evidence, and I was sure of it. And I needed that evidence to destroy Sterling & Cross once and for all.

But first, I needed to find her. And I needed to make sure she trusted me enough to work with me.

Because if Sterling & Cross realized she was still a threat, they would come for her. And next time, they wouldn't just fire her.

They would bury her.

Alice's POV

I didn't even look back at the car or at the man sitting inside. I just crossed the road quickly and kept walking. I didn't know where I was going. I only wanted to be far away from there.

I walked faster until I reached the next street, and then I stopped at a small corner, breathing hard.

My heart was still pounding. Who was that man? And why did he let me stay in his car for so long without saying anything?

I pulled out my phone and searched for the address of a real estate agent I knew. They had once helped my friend find a place when she moved out of town, and maybe they could help me, too.

I found their office not too far away, about a fifteen-minute walk, so I went there right away. The woman at the front desk smiled when I walked in.

"Good afternoon. How may I help you?"

I swallowed hard, trying to sound normal. "I need a new place. Somewhere quiet. In the UK, but not around here. I just… need to move fast."

She blinked at me. "Do you have a location in mind?"

"Anywhere far from the city," I said softly. "And I can pay in full."

That got her attention. She nodded and said she would send me a list of available homes by evening. I thanked her and left.

I took a cab to our house. It was part of what I had won in the case, and my husband would soon come for his stuff, but I really didn't want to be there when he did.

The moment I entered the house, I knew I couldn't stay there any longer. The walls felt heavy, and every corner reminded me of Daniel. The smell of his perfume was still there. The one that made me smile now made me sick.

I opened the closet and began folding my clothes, one after another. I just wanted to leave before I changed my mind.

But as I packed, my mind kept going back to work. To Sterling & Cross. To everything I had discovered.

I had been so stupid. I should have known something was wrong when they told me to drop my investigation. I should have known Daniel was involved when he started acting strange, coming home late, and being secretive with his phone.

And Clara. God, Clara had been in our house almost every day for the past year. She probably reported everything to them. Every conversation. Every suspicion I had.

I felt sick thinking about it.

I took my documents, some jewelry, and my laptop and zipped up the suitcase. But as I tried to close it, the zip caught my finger and tore the skin.

"Perfect," I muttered, looking at the small cut that was already bleeding. "Just what I needed."

I sucked in a shaky breath and grabbed a tissue, pressing it on my hand. Tears started to blur my eyes again, but I wiped them off quickly. I didn't want to cry anymore.

I had USB drives hidden in my laptop bag. Three years of evidence: emails, financial records, offshore account numbers, and shell company registrations.

Everything that proved Sterling & Cross was laundering money, and that proved Daniel and several other executives were involved.

I had kept it all before they fired me.

And now I realized why they had been so vicious in destroying my reputation, and that was because they were scared that I would expose them.

Maybe I should have sent everything to the authorities and gotten done with it, but I was scared, too, as these weren't just corrupt businessmen. Sterling & Cross worked with dangerous people and criminal organizations. People who wouldn't hesitate to make me disappear if they thought I was a threat.

I dragged the suitcase out and locked the door behind me. My heart felt heavy as I stood outside. I didn't know if I was sad, angry, or just tired, and maybe all of them.

I didn't want to go to a hotel yet. I didn't even have a home anymore, so I walked until my legs hurt. Then I saw a bar at the corner of the street. I decided to go and have a drink. Just one, maybe two. Just anything to make my mind quiet.

The bar was half full of people laughing and talking. I sat at the counter and asked the bartender for a glass of wine.

I drank the first one as soon as I got it. I asked for another, and then another.

After a while, I stopped counting. My head now felt light, and everything around me looked blurry. But for the first time in days, my chest didn't feel so heavy to think about what had been happening in the last few days.

I looked around and saw couples sitting close, whispering into each other's ears, while some were laughing, and some were kissing.

I looked away quickly. I didn't want to remember love; I didn't even know if I believed in it anymore.

I rested my head on the counter and closed my eyes for a few seconds. Then memories started to rush back. The ones of my father, always drunk and shouting when I was a child, throwing things at the wall, and beating up my mother. And my mother ran out one night and never came back. I was barely ten when she left.

After that, it was just him and me. His heavy drinking and his debts. I had to grow up fast. I started working at a small store at sixteen, saving every penny to survive. I thought when I married Daniel, life would finally feel safe, but I was wrong again.

A small laugh escaped me, and it really sounded dry and bitter.

"Life is funny," I whispered.

"You keep thinking it will get better, but it just finds another way to hurt you."

The bartender gave me a strange look, but I ignored him. I was too tired to explain anything.

After a few more drinks, I got up and staggered to my feet. My vision was spinning, and I just wanted to sleep somewhere and forget everything for a while.

I saw a sign that pointed to a "Club Lounge" in the same building. The music was louder there. I thought maybe I'd dance a little, laugh, or just lose myself for one night.

I walked in, trying not to stumble. The lights were colored and flashing. People were dancing, and the smell of alcohol filled the air. I found a small space at the back and started moving with the crowd. My body was swaying, and I just had to do all of this tonight.

At some point, I felt dizzy again, and I pushed through the crowd, looking for the restroom. But the hallway was dark, and all the doors looked the same. I opened one, thinking it was the ladies' room, but it wasn't.

It was a private lounge, and there were a few men inside, sitting around a low table with drinks. They all turned to look at me.

"Oh, sorry..." I started to say, but my words slurred.

One of them stood up and laughed.

"You lost, sweetheart?"

"Leave me alone," I said, trying to close the door, but he blocked it.

"She's drunk," another man said. "Just let her go."

But before anything could happen, someone at the corner spoke quietly. His voice was so deep that I could get lost in it. It also seemed pretty familiar, like I had heard it earlier.

"Out. Everyone. Leave the girl with me," he said.

The men exchanged looks and then walked out, leaving just the two of us in the room.

I blinked, trying to see clearly. He was sitting on a couch, wearing a dark suit. The lights behind him made it hard to see his face, but I could feel his eyes on me.

I took a step back, holding the door.

"I'm sorry," I muttered. "I thought this was the restroom."

He didn't say anything. He just stood up slowly and walked toward me, and my heartbeat picked up, but for some reason, I didn't move.

He stopped close, his height making me tilt my head up a little.

"So," he said quietly, his voice almost a whisper near my ear.

"This is what you want now?"

The question didn't make sense to me. My mind was too clouded.

"What are you saying?" I laughed weakly.

"I just came to drink, not to..."

He leaned closer that I could feel his breath on my skin.

"You don't even remember, do you?" he said.

I blinked, confused. "Remember what?" I asked, and he smirked.

"Nothing," he said softly.

"You'll find out soon enough."

I frowned, but before I could ask again, he stepped aside and opened the door for me.

"Go back to your room," he said calmly.

Without saying another word, I nodded slowly and walked out.

My steps were unsteady as I went down the hallway, and my head was spinning. I kept hearing his voice in my head.

I went straight to the hotel receptionist, asked for a room, and dragged myself upstairs.

I dropped my bag, lay on the bed, and stared at the ceiling. I noticed the room was luxurious, and I wondered if it was the same price I had paid, but who cared anyway?

After about a minute, I heard footsteps coming closer, and then the door creaked open.

Bryan's POV

I sat on the couch, one hand around a glass of whiskey, pretending to listen to whatever my colleagues were saying.

The club was new. It was built just beneath the hotel I owned. The idea came from a business partner who said people spent more money on alcohol and music than on a good night's sleep. He was right because every night, this place was full. And even tonight, when I wasn't in the mood for noise, I'd agreed to join them because it looked bad when the boss stayed hidden too long.

Across, James leaned forward, already tipsy. "You've been too quiet, boss," he teased. "Come on, drink up. This deal is worth celebrating."

I gave a faint smile, lifting the glass to my lips. The whiskey burned, but I didn't care. I only wanted the night to end.

While the others joked and talked about women, I stared at the door. I remembered the girl from earlier. She was the last person I expected to cross paths with again. And yet, when she stumbled into that private lounge earlier, I had frozen.

I didn't know what to think when she opened that door. She looked lost and drunk. Her eyes were glassy, her hair was messy, and her lips were trembling.

At first, my men thought she was one of the escorts who worked around the club.

James had leaned toward me, grinning.

"Well, look what the night brought in," he said. "Seems the boss's luck just changed."

The others laughed. I almost told them to shut up, but then she mumbled an apology, and I realized who she was.

She was Alice Morgan, the woman from the car accident, the one from the plane, and the one whose name was on the Sterling & Cross files.

The woman who might have the evidence I needed to destroy my enemies.

Before anyone could say another word, I spoke. "Out. Everyone. Leave the girl with me."

The room went silent. They thought I was joking until they saw my face. Then, one by one, they left.

James, the last to move, smirked as he stood. "Didn't know you had a type, Bryan. Thought you liked your women less… lost."

I gave him a cold stare. "Get out."

When the door shut, I turned back to her. She stood awkwardly near the door, her hand still on the knob like she wanted to run.

"I'm sorry," she muttered. "I thought it was the restroom."

I didn't move for a moment. I just watched her. The way she tried to steady herself. The faint blush on her cheeks. The small tremble in her fingers.

This was the woman Sterling & Cross had tried to destroy. This was the woman who had worked in their finance department for three years. This was the woman who might hold the key to everything I'd been searching for.

I took a step closer. "So," I said quietly, my voice low. "This is what you want now?"

She looked up, confused. "What are you saying? I just came to drink, not to…"

Her words trailed off.

I leaned in slightly, close enough to feel her unsteady breath. "You don't even remember, do you?"

"Remember what?" she asked.

I smirked. "Nothing. You'll find out soon enough."

She frowned, blinking as if trying to clear her thoughts.

"Go back to your room," I said finally, opening the door for her.

She hesitated, then nodded and walked out.

I stood there for a while, staring at the empty doorway. My chest felt strange again. That same pull I couldn't explain.

But this time, I knew it wasn't just attraction. It was an opportunity.

Alice Morgan had something Sterling & Cross wanted badly enough to destroy her life, and I needed to know what it was.

After a few minutes, I told myself to think clearly. She was probably in one of the hotel rooms now, drunk and vulnerable.

I could let her sleep it off and disappear in the morning. Or I could take this chance to get closer to her. To start building the connection I would need if I wanted her to trust me with whatever secrets she was hiding.

I finished the drink in one gulp and went upstairs.

My suite was on the top floor. It was also the best in the hotel, though I rarely stayed long enough to enjoy it.

I inserted the keycard and pushed the door open. The first thing I noticed was the sound of clinking, like a spoon against a plate.

When I looked at the bed, it was her again, Alice. Eating something on my bed.

For a moment, I froze. She was cross-legged, with her hair loose, her dress slightly wrinkled, and a small plate of food in front of her, and she looked completely at home.

She looked up at me mid-bite, her eyes wide, and then she swallowed quickly.

"Oh… I thought..." She blinked, confused.

"This is my room."

I closed the door behind me slowly.

"No," I said, my voice calm but deep.

"This is my room," I added.

She frowned and glanced around like she was just realizing it.

"Wait… what?"

I took a step closer.

"Seems you made a mistake again tonight," I said slowly.

Her cheeks flushed.

"Oh my God, I... I didn't mean to..."

I raised a hand slightly.

"Relax. You're drunk, and mistakes happen." I said, but she didn't relax. Her chest rose and fell fast. I could see the way her fingers gripped the edge of the blanket and the way her lips parted like she wanted to explain.

This was it. This was the moment. I could kick her out and lose this chance. Or use her vulnerability, loneliness, and her obvious need to forget whatever pain she was running from.

It wasn't honorable. But I stopped caring about honor five years ago when Sterling & Cross destroyed everything I had built.

I didn't know what came over me, but I stepped closer, and she didn't move away.

"So, this is what you want, huh?" I said softly, my voice barely above a whisper.

"You came to my hotel, walked into my private room, and now… you're in my bed."

Her lips trembled. "I swear I didn't..."

I stopped in front of her, and she looked up, her eyes glassy and uncertain.

"Please, let me go," she whispered.

I tilted my head. "Go?" I repeated quietly.

"You came here for something… so maybe you should get it before you leave."

Her breath hitched as I leaned closer, my face inches from hers. Her eyes darted to my lips, then back up, and for a long second, neither of us moved.

Then I reached out slowly, my fingers brushing against her arm. She shivered, and I could feel it.

She whispered, "Bryan…"

I didn't know how she knew my name. Maybe she'd heard it downstairs, or maybe she'd looked me up, but it didn't matter.

And before I could stop myself, I kissed her. She gasped, but she didn't pull away. Her hands found my chest, pushing once, then stopping. My hand moved to the back of her neck, holding her there.

Her lips parted again, and I deepened the kiss. The room went quiet, except for the sound of our breathing, and when I finally pulled back, both of us were breathing hard.

Her eyes were wide.

"I shouldn't..." she started.

"Then don't," I said, with my voice low, and I kissed her again, slower this time. She didn't resist; her fingers curled against my shirt, gripping it tightly.

Part of me knew this was wrong, but a louder part of me said this was necessary. It was the only way to get close to her and earn her trust.

And eventually, this was how I would get the evidence I needed to destroy Sterling & Cross.

Her body leaned into mine, and my hand slipped to her waist, drawing her closer until there was no space left between us.

Her dress had slipped slightly off her shoulder, revealing her smooth skin. I brushed my thumb over it, and she sucked in a breath. My hands roamed around her waist and traced up to her neckline.

The dress was falling off her shoulders slowly and giving way for her curves. My hands roamed around freely, and just when I was about to slide under her dress, she pushed me back.

"Stop," she said softly, her voice trembling.

I froze, staring at her.

"I can't," she whispered.

For a moment, I thought she was done and wanted to leave. “Fuck, I lost my chance.”

I stepped back slowly, with my heartbeat still heavy in my chest.

"It's okay," I said quietly.

And for a moment, we just looked at each other.