Five years is enough time for a man like Adrian Vale to become untouchable.
The skyline had changed, but Vale Tower remained exactly the same—dark glass, sharp edges, dominating everything around it. It didn't try to blend into the city. It imposed itself on it. Just like him. I stood across the street for a long moment, staring up at the building that used to feel familiar. Once, I had walked through those doors as his fiancée.
Today, I walked in as someone who no longer belonged anywhere near his world.
Inside, the lobby was all marble and quiet authority. Receptionists spoke in low, efficient tones. Assistants moved quickly but never ran. No one laughed. No one lingered.
Vale Group was not a place for comfort; it was a place for power. My heels echoed against the polished floor as I approached the front desk. The receptionist looked up, professional and composed, until I gave my name.
"Elena Marlowe. I have an appointment with Mr. Vale."
There it was—that flicker of recognition. Quickly hidden. Five years had passed, but the scandal had not faded as easily as people pretended. After a brief call, she nodded. "Thirty-eighth floor."
The elevator ride felt suffocating. Each floor number lighting up was a reminder of how far he had climbed while I had been forced to survive quietly in the shadows. The city whispered about Adrian Vale differently now. He wasn't just powerful—he was ruthless. Competitors had vanished from the market. Companies that challenged him mysteriously collapsed. The man who once loved me had turned into something sharper, colder, almost surgical in his precision.
When the elevator doors opened, the atmosphere changed. The executive floor was quieter, thicker with tension.
His assistant stood when she saw me, her expression carefully neutral. "He'll see you now." Of course he would. Adrian never avoided confrontation. He controlled it.
The office doors were tall, matte black, intimidating in their simplicity. When they opened, I stepped into a space lined with glass and steel, the entire city stretched beneath the windows behind his desk. And there he was.
Adrian Vale didn't look up immediately. He finished signing a document, placed his pen down with deliberate calm, and only then lifted his gaze to me. The impact of it was physical. He looked older, but not in a way that softened him. His features were sharper, his posture even more assured. The warmth that once lived in his eyes was gone, replaced by something unreadable and controlled.
"Elena," he said evenly.
No anger. No surprise.
Just acknowledgment.
"Adrian," I replied, hoping my voice didn't betray how tightly my chest had tightened.
He leaned back slightly in his chair, studying me like I was a business proposal he wasn't sure was worth considering. "I was informed that someone using your name requested this meeting. I assumed it was a mistake."
"It wasn't."
Silence stretched between us. The city hummed far below, distant and irrelevant.
"You have five minutes," he said finally.
Five minutes. That was all I was worth now.
I clasped my hands together to stop them from trembling. "My father's company is being audited again. Aggressively. Investors are pulling out. Contracts are being terminated without explanation." He didn't react.
"I know you have influence in those sectors," I continued carefully. "I'm asking you to intervene."
One dark eyebrow lifted slightly. "Intervene."
"It's not illegal. It's just… pressure."
"Pressure," he repeated softly, as if tasting the word.
"Yes."
He stood then, slow and deliberate, walking toward the windows behind his desk. With the city behind him, he looked even more untouchable. "You disappeared five years ago without attempting to explain yourself," he said. "And now you walk into my office asking for help."
"I tried to explain—"
"You said it wasn't what I thought." His tone remained calm, but there was steel beneath it. "It was exactly what it looked like."
My throat tightened. "It wasn't."
He turned to face me fully now. "You were in his suite the night before our wedding."
"Yes."
"Alone."
"Yes."
"And you expect me to believe that was innocent?" I stepped forward despite myself. "I went there because—"
"Because?" he prompted when I hesitated.
Because I was threatened. Because someone orchestrated everything. Because I was trying to protect you. But the truth sounded weak after five years of silence.
"Because I made a mistake," I finished quietly. His jaw tightened, but not with emotion—with restraint. "You're right," he said. "You did." The words landed heavily.
"I'm not here to reopen the past," I said, forcing steadiness into my voice. "I'm here because innocent employees will lose their jobs. My father's health can't handle this again. If you apply pressure, the audit will ease."
"And what do I gain?" he asked. The question shouldn't have surprised me. Adrian never moved without benefit. "Nothing," I admitted. "I'm asking for mercy."
A faint, humorless smile touched his lips. "You're in no position to request mercy from me." I swallowed. "Then tell me what position I am in." He studied me for a long moment, something calculating shifting behind his eyes. Then he walked back to his desk and picked up a thin file. He opened it briefly before closing it again.
"You want my help?" he asked.
"Yes."
"Fine."
Hope flickered dangerously in my chest.
"Marry me."
The word hit the air like a gunshot.
I stared at him. "What?" "A legal contract," he clarified smoothly. "Two years. You will live under my name, under my roof, under my terms. In return, I ensure your father's company survives." My heart pounded so loudly I was certain he could hear it. "You can't be serious." "I don't joke about business." "This isn't business."
"For me," he said coldly, "it is." I stepped back slightly. "Why would you want that?"
His gaze locked onto mine, steady and unyielding. "Because this time, Elena, I decide the terms of our relationship."
The room felt smaller. Thicker. More dangerous. "And if I refuse?" I asked quietly.
He didn't hesitate. "Then your father's company won't survive the month."
Silence fell between us again, heavier than before. Five minutes had ended. And somehow, I had walked into something far worse than humiliation. This wasn't forgiveness. It was revenge.
And the terrifying part was—
I wasn't sure I could afford to say no.