"Come in," MK said, stepping aside.
She hadn't hesitated. That surprised her. Jesse still mattered—despite everything, despite the sharp words and uglier assumptions. Friendship, MK had learned, didn't dissolve just because someone behaved like an idiot. Sometimes it cracked. Sometimes it bruised. But it didn't vanish.
Jesse stepped in, eyes already scanning the apartment like it might accuse her of something.
"Can I at least get a hug?" Jesse asked, arms opening exaggeratedly, like humor could soften the moment.
"No," MK replied flatly. "I'm still mad at you."
Jesse winced but smiled anyway. "Fair. Completely fair. Still—worth a try."
They stood there for a second too long, the air thick with things neither of them knew how to phrase properly. Finally, Jesse dropped her arms and sighed.
"Hey, MK… I'm sorry. I really am. But if I'm being honest—it's also half your fault."
MK raised a brow. "Oh?"
"You don't exactly make it easy to ask questions," Jesse said carefully. "You keep things close. Too close."
MK didn't argue. She turned and walked toward the living room instead, a silent invitation. Jesse followed.
They sat.
Time passed—not much, but enough to settle the tension into something manageable.
Jesse leaned forward, elbows on her knees. "Why didn't you tell me about the company?"
MK laughed, but it wasn't amused. "Why didn't you tell me your family had shares in it?"
Jesse opened her mouth, then closed it again.
Touché.
They stared at each other, then both looked away at the same time.
"Seems like keeping secrets is ruining my life," MK thought, the realization landing heavy in her chest.
"I was under a lot of pressure," Jesse said quietly. "My family kept pushing, and I panicked. I thought… if I asked you, maybe it would be easier. When it wasn't, I blamed you instead."
MK nodded slowly. "I get that."
And she did. Too well.
She was grateful—unexpectedly so—that they could still talk like this. That the conversation didn't feel like walking on glass. But even as Jesse spoke, MK's heart drifted elsewhere.
To someone who wasn't sitting across from her.
To someone who had walked out that morning without a note.
MK told Jesse about the misunderstanding. About the argument. About the ring. About the words she wished she could pull back and swallow whole.
Jesse's eyes widened. "Wow, MK. You must have really hurt her."
MK flinched.
"And here I was," Jesse added softly, "worried she'd be the one who hurt you."
"You're not making this easy," MK muttered. "I already feel like a fraud."
"Then why don't you go find her?"
MK laughed bitterly. "And say what? Sorry I lost the ring and my temper at the same time?"
"That does sound bad," Jesse admitted. "So… are you just going to ignore her?"
"No," MK said quickly. Too quickly. "I want to be with her. I do. But she left early. Didn't leave a note. I called her friends—no one's seen her. I even called M Kent Paradise. She's not there."
Jesse leaned back. "Looks like she's deliberately avoiding you."
The words landed like a verdict.
---
Meanwhile, across the city, Shriya sat in Helen's office, fingers laced tightly in her lap.
She had told Helen everything.
Not the polished version. Not the controlled version. The raw one.
She had been coming here often lately. Too often for someone who claimed she didn't need help. Peach and Leah knew her sharp edges—her temper, her dominance, her ruthlessness. Helen knew the softer parts. The insecure ones. The pieces that bruised easily.
"How much does it hurt?" Helen asked.
She wasn't asking as a therapist.
She was asking as a friend.
Shriya thought about it.
"Not much," she said after a pause. Then corrected herself. "Not in a way that screams. It's just… an ache. Deep. Here."
She pressed two fingers against her chest.
"I can't understand how she could be so dismissive of me," Shriya continued. "I mean, I get that she might love the company more than me, but still…"
Helen watched her closely. "So you're not mad that she kept owning the company from you?"
"No," Shriya replied immediately. "Not really. We all have secrets." A pause. "I have secrets too."
Secrets that, if spoken aloud, might end everything.
Helen nodded slowly, studying her. Not judging. Just observing—trying to decide which part of Shriya needed protecting more: the woman in love, or the woman in danger of losing herself.
Shriya left the office feeling lighter. Not healed. But steadier.
She made a call.
"Set a meeting," she instructed.
---
"Gavin Hermon, right?" Shriya said calmly as she took the seat across from him. "I'm Shriya ."
"I already know who you are," Gavin replied, forcing a smile.
"That's good," she said. "Saves me the trouble. It seems our paths crossed… wrongly."
"Oh?" Gavin leaned back. "What do you want?"
"I love MK," Shriya said simply. "So much I would give my life for her."
She sighed afterward—not because she regretted saying it, but because the truth felt exposed.
"Well," she continued, "MK is the woman you got fired from Starlight Company. Though… it's not Starlight anymore."
That caught his attention.
Gavin smirked.
"Gavin," Shriya said softly, dangerously calm, "I'm not a good person. You know that. But is it really so wrong to want to be good—for one person?"
Something shifted in the room. Gavin felt it before he understood it. The air tightened. The realization struck him—not intellectually, but viscerally.
MK was the reason he was still alive.
"So," Shriya continued, "is getting back into the club all you want?"
Gavin swallowed. He had bodyguards in every corner—but he knew, without doubt, they wouldn't matter if she decided otherwise.
"Yes," he said.
"Your ban will be lifted immediately."
She stood.
"And Gavin—" her gaze pinned him in place, "not even in your dreams are you to think of her."
She walked away.
Gavin remained seated long after she left, heart racing. He had stepped into a lioness's den and survived. Barely.
---
Shriya drove toward MK's apartment, determination building with every mile.
She was going to fix this.
Then her phone rang.
"Miss shriya," a voice said. "Your father requests your presence at the mansion. Immediately."
"Is there a problem?" Shriya asked, tension flooding her tone.
"I recommend you drop any business," the voice replied. "And Miss shriya … you have two hours."
The call ended.
Shriya stared at the road ahead.
The trip took four.
For the first time in a long while, she felt small.scared.
Not the terrifying woman the city feared.
Not the gentle one MK loved.
Just a daughter.
Just someone being summoned.