Chapter 3 Blood in the water

The first real fight started with a folder.

Not violence. Not shouting.

Just a manila folder left on the marble table between us like bait.

Unmarked. Heavy.

Lucian set it down without a word, then walked to the window, his back to me like I wasn't worth the delivery. The skyline glowed behind him - cold and endless, the same way he always looked.

I picked it up.

Inside were security stills. Time stamps. A printed chain of internal emails I'd never seen, but somehow - incredibly - my name was on.

"I didn't write these." My voice came out steady. Barely.

Lucian didn't move.

"They were sent from my old work account, but I didn't-" I looked up. "You know I didn't send these."

He didn't turn. "I know what I see."

The sentence was a blade. It didn't yell. It bled.

"You think I leaked company documents? After everything?"

"After everything?" He turned then, slowly, with that predator-calm he wore so well. "You mean after two days?"

I hated the way he said it. Like my time had already expired. Like whatever trust I thought we were building was just a mirage.

"I took this job because I thought you needed a fixer," I snapped, stepping forward. "Not a scapegoat."

"Maybe I needed both," he said.

Silence cracked the air between us.

I wanted to scream. I wanted to throw the folder at his too-perfect face and tell him to find someone else to play villain in his story. But I didn't. Because something in his expression stopped me.

It wasn't anger.

It was something colder.

Resignation. As if he'd expected this from the beginning.

As if betrayal was the only currency he understood.

My heart ached in a place I didn't want to name.

"You really think I'm like the rest of them," I said quietly.

Lucian's gaze flicked over me. "I think people lie to survive. I think you're smart enough to know when to pick the winning side."

"And you think that's you."

"I know it's me."

God. The arrogance.

I hated how right he looked saying it. Hated the way his voice filled the room like prophecy.

"Then why hire me if you don't trust me?"

His answer was immediate.

"Because I don't need to trust you. I just need to know your price."

Something in me snapped.

"My price?" I laughed - humorless, sharp. "Do you think I'm here for money? You think this penthouse, this contract, this cage you dressed in luxury-was what I wanted?"

Lucian's jaw flexed. "Everyone wants something."

"You think I'm like you," I whispered.

"I think you're pretending you're not."

That landed.

Because the truth is-part of me was like him.

Ambitious. Sharp. Always calculating the odds.

But where he wielded his heart like a locked vault, I kept mine beating out in the open. Flawed. Bruised. Loud.

And now it felt like a weakness.

---

"You want to see what betrayal looks like?" I snapped, walking to him. "Then look at your reflection. You've spent so long looking over your shoulder you don't even know how to face someone."

We were close now.

Too close.

Lucian's breath was steady, but his eyes were on fire.

"You think I'm paranoid?" he murmured. "You have no idea how deep the knives go in this world."

"Then teach me."

That stopped him.

Something flickered behind his eyes. Surprise? Admiration? I didn't know. But the moment stretched too long.

"I don't teach," he said.

"Then kill the part of you that still believes I'm the enemy," I said. "Or tell me I already am. But stop standing there like I haven't earned the truth."

His gaze dropped to my mouth. For one second. One devastating second.

And then-

He stepped back.

Just one step.

But it was enough.

Enough to remind me who he was.

Enough to remind me who I wasn't.

"You're not ready for the truth," Lucian said.

And just like that, the moment shattered.

---

That night, I sat on the edge of the bed in a stranger's penthouse, with headlines still spinning and Lucian's voice echoing in my bones.

You're not ready.

But the truth?

He wasn't ready either.

Not for me.

Not for this.

Not for a world where someone could look at him and not flinch - and still choose to stay.