Chapter 16 —
POV: Lyra
Three hours in the air. Three hours of silence, turbulence, and the kind of tension that could crack bones.
When the plane finally landed at 11:00 AM, the pressure didn't ease—it detonated.
The terminal doors opened, and chaos swallowed us whole.
Flashes. Screams. Paparazzi clawing like vultures.
A pristine white Rolls-Royce Phantom sat in wait—shining, smug, guarded like a throne on wheels. Security formed a wall, pressing the sea of media back. The air tasted like scandal.
And there he was—Kieller Voss. Stepping out like he owned time itself and his behavior was changed .
The reporters erupted.
"Are you two together?""Miss Vale, are you in a secret relationship with Mr. Voss?""Kieller, is she your fiancée?"
I clenched my jaw. This wasn't supposed to happen. This was a business trip—not a bloody media circus.
Then suddenly, without warning, his hand took mine.
My head whipped to him. "What the hell—?"
His face turned to the cameras, voice low and arrogantly smooth.
"She's the woman I love. That's all you need to know."
Time stopped.
What. The. Hell.
I yanked my hand away like it burned. "Are you out of your mind?!" I hissed. "What are you doing?!"
But he didn't answer. Just pulled me toward the car, brushing off the press like they were ants. Security closed around us, but the damage was already done.
The headlines were writing themselves.
Inside the car, silence reigned.
Until it didn't.
"You arrogant, manipulative, god-complex bastard," I spat. "Who told you to lie like that?!"
Kieller adjusted his cuffs like I wasn't even talking. "Relax. I said it to shut them up. Unless you want NexaTech to pull out after your little disappearance stunt."
"Don't you dare twist this on me."
He turned, eyes cold steel. "You don't get to lecture me about control when you can't even control your trauma."
That one hit. I stiffened.
"You said it yourself," he added. "You can't afford scandal. Neither can I. So play along, Lyra."
"Don't. Tell. Me. What. To. Do." My voice was a low growl.
"Oh?" he smirked. "Then don't act like a ticking bomb in heels."
I almost slapped him. Instead, I said, "After this deal, you'll be dead to me."
He smirked cruelly. "Already practicing."
The silence afterward was deafening. he was so kind before but now demon has comeback in him.
We pulled up to NexaTech —glassed towers touching the clouds. Cameras followed every step.
He leaned over. "Smile. Pretend you don't hate me."
"Too late."
He opened the door like a gentleman carved in rage. Held out his hand.
I stared at it.
Then I took it.
Because the game wasn't over yet—and I never lose.
Inside, at the towering entrance, stood Dorian Gray—CEO of NexaTech. Tall. Mid-twenties. An aura that screamed silk-wrapped danger. Copper curls, obsidian eyes, black suit with the arrogance to wear no tie.
He didn't extend his hand to Kieller.
Burn.
Kieller's smirk faltered, hand falling back like it had been slapped.
I stepped forward. "A man who doesn't offer his hand must be used to others begging for it."
I 'accidentally' dropped my purse, knelt, and smiled as I picked it up. "Excuse the clumsy queen in me."
Dorian laughed, finally offering his hand. "Welcome, Miss Vale. I've been… very curious about you."
"Flattery is a weak weapon," I said, shaking it. "Try interest instead."
We walked in. Kieller shadowed us, jaw locked.
In the conference room, I owned the table.
"Our tech will turn fashion into warfare," I said. "Smart fabric, biometric sensors, temperature-shifting design. Couture that adapts. Dresses that fight back."
Everyone leaned in.
Kieller stood. "Voss International will power the global rollout—"
Dorian raised a brow, interrupting. "Actually, we already have logistics covered. Mr. Voss, your role will be… media compliance."
Boom.
The fall in Kieller's face was delicious.
"I trust that's… acceptable?" Dorian asked with a grin.
Kieller smiled through gritted teeth. "Of course."
As they left, Kieller muttered under his breath, "Media compliance? What am I, a damn intern?"
I smirked. "You mean how you treat everyone else?"
He stopped. "Don't test me, Lyra."
I turned slowly. "Oh, sweetheart. You were the test—and you failed."
And then—he snapped.
"You couldn't even stop yourself from getting r**ed. Remember ?"
Time stopped.
My lungs collapsed. The floor tilted.
"You were always weak," he whispered. "Always a victim."
I didn't speak.
Couldn't.
Tears burned down my face before I could stop them.
I turned.
And ran.
Out. Away. Far.
I didn't care who saw me. I had to get out.
The heavy doors banged shut behind me, and I ran—blind, breathless, tears stinging the corners of my eyes. My Dior heels screamed against the marble, and the hallway spun as if mocking my unraveling grip on control. he was to nice to me ,but now he did this.
One wrong step.
My heel slipped.
A sharp gasp tore from my throat—then hands, strong and cold, caught my wrist before the ground could claim me.
"Careful," a voice said, cool as steel, smooth as silk. "You're too powerful to break this easily."
My eyes shot up.
Dorian Gray .
His fingers curled around my wrist, firm and intentional. He wasn't just catching me. He was holding me—like I belonged in his grasp.
And for a second, I forgot how to breathe.
Then came the voice I hoped I'd escaped.
"What the hell—" Kieller's tone thundered from behind. "Are you seriously falling into his arms now?"
I yanked my hand away like I'd touched fire. But Dorian didn't even flinch. He stood there, calmly adjusting the cuff of his suit as if Kieller Voss hadn't just stormed into the hallway, eyes blazing with betrayal.
"I tripped," I snapped, spinning toward Kieller. "Not that it's your business anymore."
His jaw clenched. "Everything about you is my business."
"Correction," Dorian cut in smoothly, stepping between us, "it used to be your business. Now, it's just your obsession."
Kieller turned to him with a snarl. "You don't know anything about her."
"I know what I saw," Dorian replied, voice low and lethal. "You cornered her. Broke her down . And now you're chasing her like a dog afraid someone else might treat her better."
"Watch your words, Gray."
"I never repeat myself."
They were inches from each other, the air vibrating with masculine rage. I could feel it choking me—power, ego, pride—thick and burning.
"Enough," I said sharply.
They both looked at me.
I drew in a breath and raised my chin. "I'm done with this… territorial circus."
Dorian's eyes didn't leave mine. "Then let me take you to dinner."
Kieller's head snapped to me. "You're not going anywhere with him."
I turned to Kieller, voice like a blade. "You don't get to command me."
"Lyra—"
"I said no," I hissed, before turning back to Dorian. "Yes. I'll go."
Dorian smirked slightly, offering his hand.
I didn't take it.
But I walked beside him anyway.
Behind me, I didn't need to look to know—Kieller Voss was burning.
Burning with a rage he couldn't bury anymore.
✦ Scene: The Car — Dorian's Maybach ✦
(still Lyra's POV)
The valet opened the door to the midnight black Maybach parked like royalty at the curb. Glossy, sleek, with tinted windows and chrome wheels that didn't whisper—they roared class.
Dorian gestured wordlessly, and I slid in.
Luxury swallowed me whole—white leather seats, champagne interior glow, and silence so profound it muffled even my heartbeat.
He entered beside me.
No driver. Of course not. This man didn't need anyone steering for him.
The car moved with a gentle purr, gliding into traffic like a predator that didn't need to announce itself.
I glanced at him.
He was watching me already.
"What?"
His eyes didn't flinch. "I don't like seeing brilliance wasted. Especially when it comes in heels and war paint."
I looked away, toward the window.
"Then don't look at me."
He leaned back.
The city blurred into streaks of gold and gray as I leaned my head against the window.
Everything felt too fast, too loud—and yet, somehow, I felt numb. Like I was watching someone else live my life from behind glass.
I didn't mean to end up here. In this car. With him. After everything.
But maybe... I needed a moment to breathe. Away from the chaos. Away from Kieller's voice and the pressure and the memories I keep trying to outrun.
I used to believe strength was silence. That if I just kept walking, nothing could touch me.
But today broke something. Or maybe it revealed something I've been hiding.
Not weakness.Not fear.
Just... the part of me that still feels. That still remembers what it's like to be small. To be shattered. To want to scream but not know how.
The lights outside flickered like ghosts.I didn't know where this night would lead.
But for the first time in a long time, I wasn't pretending.
And that was enough.