Tristan sat alone in his study, the ticking of the antique clock on the wall the only sound breaking the silence. The glow from his phone screen lit up his face as he stared blankly at a name that hadn't left his mind since the night of the gala.
*Saphina.*
Her name sat there, untouched, unmoved. Just like their last moment together—frozen in time, filled with tension and pain.
He remembered everything far too clearly. The way her eyes shimmered with tears. The way his voice rose without control. The way she shrank back, not because she was wrong, but because he was too angry to see clearly.
He sighed and muttered, "Damn it, Tristan…"
The guilt weighed heavier with each passing second. She didn't deserve what he'd said to her. Not after all she had done.
He tapped her contact and called.
It rang. Once. Twice. No answer.
He tried again.
Nothing.
A third time.
Still nothing.
His jaw clenched. He dropped the phone on his desk and leaned back in his chair, running both hands through his hair in frustration.
Finally, he picked the phone up again and typed a message, each word slow and deliberate:
*"Saphina, I'm sorry. I know I hurt you. I lashed out in anger, and that's not fair to you. You didn't deserve that. I was wrong. Please… talk to me."*
He read it twice, then hit send.
**
At the other end of the city, Saphina sat on her bed, curled up with her blanket drawn up to her chest. Her phone buzzed for the third time.
She saw the name.
*Tristan.*
Her heart clenched painfully. Her thumb hovered over the screen.
But she didn't answer.
Not the first call. Not the second. Not even the third.
When the message arrived, she opened it slowly, and read every word.
Her eyes blurred with tears, but she didn't reply. Couldn't reply.
"He always lashes out when he's angry," she whispered to herself. "But this time… it felt different. Like I was just a mistake in his perfect plan."
She stared at the message again.
*"Please… talk to me."*
She let the phone fall to the bed and turned her face away.
"If I mean that little to him in a moment of anger… then maybe I never really meant anything at all."
Still, her thoughts wandered.
*Liana.*
Now it made sense. Why Tristan was so protective. Why he was furious. Why everything blew up.
"They're siblings," she murmured. "That means… she's the one. The one that the arranged marriage was meant for."
"Does she even know that I work for her brother?"
Saphina saw Liana's name on the guest list and thought it was another Liana ,she didn't even see her enter the party,until the chaos unfold
A strange feeling settled in her chest—confusion, sadness, guilt.
And something else she didn't want to name.
She looked at the message on her phone one last time before turning off the screen.
"He apologized," she whispered, "but I don't think I'm ready to forgive him."
She laid back in bed, the silence in the room louder than ever.
---
Jack sat alone in his dimly lit room, his back against the wall, eyes fixed on the ceiling but seeing nothing.
Silence.
Except for the storm inside his head.
Liana's face flashed through his memory—her smile, her laugh, and then… her collapsing in his arms, gasping for air, her body trembling, her skin turning pale.
His fists clenched.
He had held her as she choked, completely helpless, while the crowd watched in confusion and horror. And he—*the one who was supposed to protect her*—could do nothing but shout for help.
"I failed her," he whispered.
This wasn't how it was supposed to go. None of it. He was there with a mission, a purpose. He had rules—*keep it clean, don't get attached, finish the job.*
Then she happened.
Now here he was, tangled in feelings that should never exist.
Worse? She got hurt because of it.
Jack stood and began pacing. His thoughts were a mess, his guilt wrapping around his chest like a chain.
His phone vibrated. A message from one of his men.
*"No luck. Velvet's servers are locked tighter than a bank vault. We couldn't get in."*
Jack scoffed. "Of course not. Tristan Moretti doesn't leave cracks." He planned to wipe their existence from the cctv footage but they couldn't even get in the system anymore
He had expected that, but still… it was a problem. Because Tristan had seen his face. Had confronted him. And even if he couldn't find anything in the system about "Jack," that in itself was a red flag.
The fact that he was invisible would only make Tristan dig deeper.
And he would. Jack knew his type—men like Tristan were relentless when it came to protecting their own.
And that was what twisted the knife.
*Their own.*
Tristan had held Liana like she was precious. Like losing her would break him.
And Jack had felt it—*the heat of jealousy.* The sting of watching someone else carry the woman he couldn't stop thinking about.
"Who is he to you, Liana?" Jack murmured, staring out his window into the night. "What are you to each other?"
Every time he remembered that moment, when Tristan pushed him aside and took her in his arms, something in him snapped.
But then again, *what right did he have to be jealous?*
He was a lie. A shadow. The man with secrets.
He sat back down heavily, running a hand through his hair.
"If she ever finds out why I'm really here…"
Would she hate him?
Would she even believe he cared?
He'd seen the pain in her eyes when she tried to breathe, the confusion, the fear. And he'd made a silent promise, one she might never hear:
*"I won't let you get hurt again. Even if it means burning everything else down."*
But he knew something now—he wasn't just playing a game with business secrets or family vendettas anymore.
He was walking a dangerous line, and Liana was right in the center of it.
And whether he liked it or not… he was already too far gone.
---