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KingTech Tower was quiet that morning — too quiet.
The kind of silence that came before a storm.
Christopher sat in his office, tie loosened, eyes fixed on the skyline. The sunlight slanted through the glass, carving gold lines across his desk. He'd been there since dawn, restless, flipping through files he wasn't even reading.
His mind wasn't in the room.
It was still back in yesterday — in that moment when Amelia's hand met his.
A pact, he'd called it.
But it had felt like something dangerously close to forgiveness.
He exhaled sharply, pushing the thought away. Feelings were a distraction — the same kind that got people destroyed. And yet, when he closed his eyes, he could still see her standing there — chin high, fire in her eyes, strength laced with grace.
"Sir?"
Mark's voice snapped him back.
Christopher glanced up. "What is it?"
"Miss Moretti is here to see you," Mark said carefully, tone cautious.
Christopher's jaw tightened. "Elena?"
"Yes, sir. She didn't have an appointment but insisted."
Of course she did. Elena Moretti never asked — she arrived.
"Send her in."
The door opened moments later, and there she was — all elegance and ice, wrapped in scarlet silk. The click of her heels echoed through the office like a warning.
"Christopher," she purred, stopping just before his desk. "It's been too long."
He leaned back in his chair, expression unreadable. "Elena."
"I saw your little press conference." Her tone was smooth, but her eyes glinted with venom. "Touching. Public apologies, moral rebirth — very noble of you."
He folded his arms. "I'm not in the mood for your sarcasm."
"Oh, I'm not being sarcastic," she said, circling his desk like a cat. "I just find it fascinating that she — the woman who embarrassed you — gets redemption, while those who've stood by you for years are left in the shadows."
Christopher's gaze hardened. "Be careful, Elena."
She smiled thinly. "Careful? Christopher, I'm your oldest ally. Your first fiancée, remember? My father practically built the foundation your company stands on. You owe the Moretti name far more than you owe… what's-her-name again? Jones?"
He rose slowly, stepping toward her. "I don't owe anyone anything. But I won't stand by while people are ruined under my command — not anymore."
Her smile faltered for a moment. "So, this is what guilt looks like on you?"
"This is what change looks like."
"Change?" she scoffed softly. "Don't fool yourself. You can't rewrite who you are, Christopher. You're a King — cold, calculated, and born to win."
He turned away, hands in his pockets. "Maybe I'm tired of winning alone."
The room fell silent. For the first time, Elena didn't have a comeback ready. She simply stared at him — studying the man she thought she knew, now seeing a stranger.
"You're making a mistake," she whispered.
"Maybe," he said quietly. "But it's my mistake to make."
---
Across town, Amelia was trying to shake the feeling that someone had just walked across her grave.
She sat in Lydia's living room, sorting through job listings. The kids were at the park with Maya, Aunt Chloe was dozing on the sofa, and for once, there was peace — fragile but real.
Still, her thoughts kept wandering.
To him.
To that strange moment when he'd said please.
He'd cleared her name, reinstated her, even restored her pay. But the Christopher she'd met before — the cold, arrogant CEO — wasn't supposed to feel.
So why had he sounded… almost sincere?
Lydia emerged from the kitchen, sipping coffee. "You've been staring at that screen for twenty minutes, babe. You good?"
Amelia blinked, snapping back. "Yeah, I'm fine. Just… thinking."
"About your boss, I assume?" Lydia teased.
Amelia rolled her eyes. "He's not my boss anymore."
"Mm-hmm," Lydia smirked. "And I don't binge romantic dramas. Girl, the way that man looked at you on TV? If that's not tension, I don't know what is."
Amelia sighed, setting the tablet aside. "Whatever it is, it's complicated. He's… different. And I don't know if that's good or bad."
"Maybe both," Lydia said softly. "But you don't have to figure it out yet. Just breathe. Heal. The rest will sort itself."
Amelia smiled faintly. "Thanks, Lyd."
---
Back at KingTech, Elena was still in the office, now leaning against the desk — arms folded, eyes sharp.
"You're protecting her," she said finally. "Why?"
Christopher didn't answer.
"She's not your equal, Christopher. She's… ordinary. A single mother with baggage. You think the board will respect you once they see how far you've fallen?"
He turned his gaze to her — calm, but deadly. "Leave her out of this, Elena."
"Or what?" she challenged.
He stepped closer, voice dropping like thunder. "Or I'll make sure even Rome forgets your name."
For a moment, her mask cracked. Then she laughed — low and dangerous. "Oh, Christopher… you've changed indeed. But if you think I'll let a woman like her replace me, you're wrong."
She brushed past him, her perfume lingering in the air like poison.
As the door shut, Christopher's composure finally cracked. He sank into his chair, running a hand over his face.
He didn't know what scared him more — Elena's threat… or the truth in her words.
Because she was right about one thing.
Amelia Jones wasn't supposed to matter.
And yet — she did.
He opened the drawer and pulled out the leather folder that still held her old project notes. The ones she'd worked on before the scandal.
Her ideas were sharp. Bold. Brilliant.
He traced her handwriting absently, then whispered to no one in particular, "What are you doing to me, Amelia Jones?"
Outside, thunder rolled faintly across the horizon — a storm gathering over Nova Heights.
And somewhere miles away, Amelia stood at her window, staring at the same sky.
Two souls, divided by pride and distance — but bound by something neither dared to name.
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