The envelope came without a return address.
Hand-delivered. No note.
Lena stared at it on her desk for nearly five minutes before opening it.
Inside was a single manila folder. And inside that, a collection of documents.
Bank transfers. Confidential settlements. One photo.
Alexander.
Five years ago.
Walking out of a downtown hotel with a woman whose name Lena didn't recognize — but whose face was heartbreakingly familiar.
Claudia Reinhart's sister.
Her heart thudded.
The printout beneath the photo was worse.
CONFIDENTIAL AGREEMENT: A. Wolfe & D. Reinhart
Terms: Non-Disclosure. No public acknowledgement of relationship. $2.3M transferred over five years in structured payments.
Lena closed the folder slowly.
The message was clear.
You think you know him. You don't.
Alexander answered on the second ring.
"I need to ask you something," Lena said.
She didn't raise her voice. Didn't cry.
But something in her tone must've reached him.
"Where are you?" he asked.
"My office. Come alone."
Ten minutes later, he walked in, coat unbuttoned, hair damp from rain.
She didn't waste time.
She slid the folder across the table.
He didn't open it. He didn't need to.
"So it's started," he said quietly.
Lena's eyes didn't leave his. "What happened between you and Delilah Reinhart?"
He let out a long breath and finally sat.
"We were together," he said. "Years ago. Before Claudia and I ever became business partners. It wasn't serious. But Delilah thought it was. She was... struggling."
"Struggling how?"
"Addiction. Depression. Claudia blamed me for all of it when things ended. She said I abandoned her sister. That I used her."
"Did you?"
"No," he said firmly. "But I didn't love her either. And I walked away when I realized it."
"And the payments?"
"Delilah threatened to go to the press. Not because I'd done anything illegal—but because Claudia had trained her to think like a weapon. I paid her to protect her. To protect myself. I signed the NDA and walked away. Claudia never forgave me."
Lena sat in silence.
"You should've told me," she said finally.
"I know."
"I don't care that you had a past, Alexander. But I do care that Claudia keeps controlling the narrative. And that you keep letting her."
He leaned forward. "She won't anymore. I swear to you. But this... this is the last thing she has."
Lena met his eyes. "Then burn it."
He nodded.
And she believed him.
That night, Lena returned home to find a small package at her door.
Inside was a note, handwritten.
You're braver than I was.
Tell him the truth, even when it hurts.
He's worth it.
—D.
There was no return address. No signature but the initial.
But Lena understood.
Delilah had watched, silently, from the sidelines of the Reinhart empire.
Maybe she wasn't an enemy.
Maybe, like Lena, she'd just been one of Claudia's casualties.
Later, in bed with Alexander, Lena traced the scar on his shoulder — a story he'd once told her was the result of a college accident.
"I don't want a perfect love," she said softly. "I just want a true one."
His eyes met hers.
"Then stay. Even when it's messy."
She nodded.
"I'm not going anywhere."