"Ma'am, may I come in?" came a voice after a polite knock on the office door.
Avery, seated behind her elegant glass desk still surrounded by the lingering scent of red roses, lifted her gaze from the bouquet with a sigh. "Come in."
The door opened, and in walked Naya, her loyal assistant. As always, she looked composed—hair pinned neatly, a tablet in one hand and files in the other. Just seeing her familiar face brought a small comfort to Avery.
Naya had always been the backbone of Avery's professional life. Efficient, loyal, discreet. In her previous life, when the world had turned against her, Naya was one of the very few who had never betrayed her trust. She hadn't forgotten that.
"Ma'am, congratulations on your wedding!" Naya beamed, her eyes practically sparkling.
Avery's smile faltered slightly.
Here we go again, she thought bitterly. Silas Blackwood—the shameless nuisance—had clearly brainwashed the entire company. Everyone probably thought they had married eachother out of love.
She forced a pleasant expression. Control, Avery. Breathe. Smile. Nod.
"Thank you, Naya," she said smoothly, then held out her hand. "My schedule?"
"Yes, of course," Naya said, stepping forward and handing over a neatly organized folder. Avery opened it immediately, her expression turning serious. She was eager to bury herself in work and forget—for a moment—that she was now Mrs. Blackwood.
"As per today's schedule," Naya began professionally, "you have the following:
A 10:00 AM meeting with the design department heads for the new fall line preview.
At 11:30, a video call with the international logistics team regarding production delays in city M.
Lunch break is at 1:00 PM—though I've slotted in a tentative client visit with our influencer brand ambassador, in case she confirms.
At 2:30, the legal team wants to review the upcoming joint venture contracts with V&L textiles.
At 4:00, your presence is requested at the executive board meeting for quarterly reviews.
And finally, at 6:00, the finance team will brief you on the proposed investment in the city P showcase event."
Avery flipped through the pages while Naya spoke, nodding with each point. It felt grounding—a familiar rhythm in the chaos of her new reality.
"Perfect," she said, finally closing the folder. "Please confirm the brand ambassador by noon. If she's not available, cancel."
"Yes, ma'am," Naya replied. She was about to excuse herself when Avery spoke again.
"Oh, and Naya—one more thing."
Naya turned back, attentive.
"I want a full report compiled on the funding we provide to Laila Arts & Fashions. I want everything—from the start . Source, transfers, breakdowns, usage. All of it. You have two days."
Naya blinked, caught off guard. "Ma'am? I—I'm sorry, I thought we weren't to interfere in miss Laila's operations.you had told us to leave all that for Miss Layla to handle ?" Wasn't that the protocol you gave when we started funding the company?"
Naya was confused everyone knew after Mr Declan made miss Avery his heir and she joined the office to work under him for the time being he also set up an entirely new company for his adopted daughter miss Layla.
He made sure to make her company be among the top ones in her field before giving it to her as his gift . Everyone knew it was because Mr Vale couldn't add miss Layla into the inheritance of his properties due to them being his grandfathers legacy which could only be passed down to direct decendents.
Even after that miss Avery made sure they provide funds to Layla arts and fashions' without any interference from anyone else other than miss Layla herself, coz she believed that she should keep supporting her sister and now she wants the details? It wasn't adding up .
Avery's eyes narrowed just slightly, but her voice remained steady. "That was then. This is now. Get me the report, Naya."
There was a beat of silence. Naya straightened her spine and gave a respectful nod. "Yes, ma'am. I'll begin right away."
As Naya left the office, she couldn't help the confusion that clouded her mind. Something had shifted. Something big.
Miss Avery Vale was not the kind of woman to make decisions lightly—and for her to go back on a promise she herself had once made so adamantly…
Something must've happened.
But Naya knew better than to pry. Whatever storm was brewing beneath Avery's polished exterior, she would only act when she was ready.
Avery made sure Naya was gone and then took her phone out to make a short phone call .
"Hello this is goodwill pet shelter" came a voice from the other end making Avery smile in satisfaction.
__________________
After Avery had cut the call, Silas stared at his phone, brow furrowed. What the hell was she planning?
He replayed her sugary-sweet tone in his head.
"So thoughtful of you, Mr. Blackwood. You know what? I'll make sure to prepare something you've always loved for you tonight!"
He squinted suspiciously at the screen.
"That sounded... ominous."
Years of knowing Avery Vale had taught him one unshakable truth—when she got quiet and sweet, something catastrophic was brewing. And nine times out of ten, he was the target.
God help me, he thought with a dramatic sigh and dragged a hand through his hair. "She's plotting murder. Or something even worse— thank God this time her witch bestfriend isn't here."
Just then, his phone rang again. The name on the screen made his playful smile fade instantly. He picked up, his voice slipping into its usual cold and commanding tone.
"Hello."
"Sir," came a crisp male voice from the other end. "We've been monitoring the subject as per your orders."
"How's the situation now?" Silas asked, voice firm and emotionless—the tone of a man who had built an empire with ruthless precision.
"Cassian West hasn't left his apartment. He's still... heavily drinking. It seems he hasn't fully processed the fallout from all the things."
Silas smirked, leaning back in his chair.
"Continue."
"In the meantime, we've made sure he was terminated from his position. He was removed this morning. We ensured the employer had reason enough not to risk hiring him again."
"Good job," Silas said, his voice laced with satisfaction. A cold glint danced in his eyes.
Then, more darkly, he added, "Now make sure he's evicted from that apartment. I want him so far gone he won't even be able to find his own shadow. And if our investigation confirms what I suspect about his dealings with Laila…" Silas paused, eyes narrowing. "Then we deal with him differently."
There was a brief silence on the line before the agent responded with resolve.
"I understand, sir. I'll make sure it's handled... thoroughly."
"Make it clean. Make it final," Silas said and ended the call.
Silence settled in the room.
The devilish grin returned to his lips. This was the face he showed the world—the real Silas Blackwood. Sharp. Strategic. Unforgiving.
But that smile faltered slightly as his gaze drifted to his desktop monitor.
There, glowing softly on his screen, was his wallpaper: a candid photo of Avery and him —one he had taken , during a gala years ago. She had been laughing, holding a glass of champagne, her eyes sparkling under the fairy lights. Carefree. Beautiful.
He sighed, leaning forward, resting his elbows on his desk.
"She's going to kill me tonight," he muttered under his breath, but despite the words, a small smile crept back onto his face.
"God, I love that woman."
______________________
Adrian stepped into the grand Blackwood mansion—a place filled with opulence, prestige, and power. A place that was supposed to be his home… but never quite felt like it.
His polished shoes echoed against the cold marble floors as he crossed the vast entryway, his posture straight but his heart weighed down with a complicated mix of resignation and a flicker of foolish hope.
Behind him, Vivienne followed at a measured pace, her heels clicking softly, her expression unreadable.
As Adrian entered the living room, his eyes landed on the man seated on the leather armchair near the fireplace. Nolan Blackwood. The ever-imposing businessman - his father. Stern. Cold. And always impossible to please.
Adrian smiled despite himself. It was small. Hesitant. Hopeful.
"Hi, Dad," he said, voice soft but warm. "Did you miss me?"
For a second—just a second—he allowed himself to believe things could be different. That maybe, just maybe, his absence might have made his father realize something.
But instead, what he received was fire.
"Is this how my son should behave!?" Nolan's voice boomed like a war drum. "Disappear for months? Abandon your responsibilities? Leave all the work you were entrusted with in shambles!?"
Before Adrian could process the eruption, crack.
A sharp sting exploded across his left cheek as Nolan's hand connected with his face. The force sent him stumbling back a step.
The room fell into heavy silence.
Adrian didn't say anything right away. He merely stood there, head bowed slightly, one hand coming up to touch the fresh burn on his cheek. And then... he smiled.
Not out of amusement. Not out of joy.
But the bitter kind of smile that mocked his own pathetic hope—the silent, foolish belief that this time might be different. That his father might actually care. Everytime he hoped , everytime it shattered.
He looked up, eyes suddenly clear of illusions. The sting on his cheek was nothing compared to the quiet ache that settled deep in his chest.
"I should've known better," he said softly, the corner of his lip twitching as if to hold back a bitter laugh.