The city skyline shimmered under the weight of twilight, neon lights flickering like scattered jewels against the dark. From the rooftop lounge of Graze Tower, the entire city stretched out below them, as though it finally belonged to them.
Hazel raised her glass of whiskey, the amber liquid catching the light.
"To victories we weren't supposed to win," she toasted, her smile sharp and triumphant.
Michael clinked his glass against hers. "And to enemies who didn't see us coming."
The moment felt surreal. The past weeks had been a storm of betrayal, blood, and fire. And now — standing here beside the man she'd once vowed to despise — Hazel felt more alive than she ever had.
They weren't husband and wife by arrangement anymore.
They were an empire.
Michael slipped a hand around her waist, pulling her against him. His lips brushed her ear.
"You impressed me today."
Hazel grinned, tilting her head to meet his gaze. "Good. I plan to make a habit of it."
He smirked, that dangerous glint in his eyes. "You already have."
As the night deepened, the lounge emptied out, leaving only them and Connor in the shadows. A sense of calm, rare and fragile, settled over Hazel's chest.
Until her phone buzzed.
Unknown Number.
She frowned, lifting it. A single message.
"You think the game's over, Mrs. Graze? I'm just getting started."
Hazel's blood turned to ice.
Michael caught the shift in her expression immediately. "What is it?"
She handed him the phone. His jaw clenched, fury flashing across his face.
"Vanessa?" he asked.
Hazel shook her head. "She's done. This… this feels different."
As if on cue, Connor's phone went off too. He checked it, his face darkening.
"Boss, one of our offshore accounts was accessed ten minutes ago. Wiped clean."
Michael's grip tightened on his glass until it cracked.
"By who?" Hazel demanded.
Connor hesitated. "That's the thing… it wasn't Vanessa. It was a ghost account we traced back to someone we assumed dead years ago."
Hazel's heart skipped.
"Who?" she pressed.
Connor exchanged a glance with Michael.
"Liam Crowe."
Hazel's stomach dropped. She didn't know the name — but Michael's face said everything. His usual control slipped for a fraction of a second, revealing something Hazel had never seen before.
Fear.
"Liam Crowe was my father's right-hand man," Michael said quietly. "Until he betrayed him. Disappeared. No one's seen him in seven years."
"And now he's back," Hazel murmured.
Connor nodded grimly. "And he's coming for everything."
Michael downed the rest of his drink, his gaze never leaving Hazel's.
"This changes everything," he muttered. "If Crowe's alive, he's ten times the threat Vanessa ever was."
Hazel straightened, her pulse steady.
"Then let him come," she said. "We're not the same people we were before."
Michael's slow, dangerous smile returned. "No. We're worse."
And as the city's wind howled around them, another war began to rise on the horizon....