CHAPTER 1 — THE RETURN
The cameras were already waiting for her when she stepped out of the courthouse.
Flashes exploded. Microphones shoved forward. Headlines wrote themselves before she even spoke.
"Is it true you ruined Hale Corporation?"
"Did CEO Adrian Hale really file for action against you?"
"Is this revenge?"
Aisha didn't answer. She tightened her grip on her coat and kept walking, ignoring the cold January wind slicing through downtown River City. She shouldn't have worn heels. She shouldn't have come alone. She shouldn't have believed that silence would save her.
It didn't.
By evening, every news station had decided her fate.
THE WOMAN WHO BROUGHT A CEO TO HIS KNEES.
They didn't know the truth. They knew just enough to make her the villain.
Her phone buzzed for the twentieth time. Unknown Caller. She let it ring. It rang again.
A sigh. "Persistent," she muttered before answering.
Before she could speak, the voice on the other end cut through.
"Report to Hale Tower. Top floor. Ten minutes."
Cold. Controlled. Unmistakable.
Adrian Hale.
Her pulse stalled for half a second. "I have nothing to say to you."
"I didn't ask you to speak," he replied. "I said report."
Click.
Of course he hung up first—he always did.
The elevator ride to the 57th floor felt longer than the last five years she spent avoiding him.
Hale Tower was unchanged. Marble floors. Silent halls. Employees who pretended not to stare but stared anyway.
Adrian stood with his back to her when she entered his office, facing the skyline like he owned it. He practically did.
"You're late," he said.
"I didn't agree to come," she shot back. "Be impressed I showed up at all."
He finally faced her. Same eyes. Same restrained expression. Same disappointment carved into his jaw.
"Sit."
She stayed standing.
A faint smirk tugged at his mouth. "Still stubborn. Good. You'll need it."
"For what? Another lawsuit?"
"No." He picked up a file and slid it across the table. "A contract."
The word hit harder than she expected.
"You expect me to sign anything for you?"
"I expect you to save both our careers," Adrian said. "Yours is sinking. Mine is bleeding. And since you're the reason the media turned rabid, you're the only one they'll believe."
Aisha stared. Silence tasted bitter.
He tapped the folder. "We pretend we're together. Public support. Stability. Positive narrative. Board confidence. Twelve months."
She blinked. "You want us to pretend we don't hate each other."
"Pretend?" His voice softened, dangerously. "We will be photographed together. Interviewed. Seen. Complementary stories. Clean timelines."
"And if I refuse?"
"Then the board votes me out, and you will never work in broadcasting again."
She hated that he was right. She hated that he still knew her. She hated him most of all.
"You're unbelievable."
"No," he said, stepping closer. "I'm realistic."
Her throat tightened. "Why me?"
His eyes dropped to her mouth—just for a second. "You owe me."
She laughed once. Sharp. Bitter. "I owe you nothing."
Adrian's gaze didn't flinch. "No. You owe me a kiss. And then you owe me a year."