Tiana wasn't just a ghost from a parking garage. She was the daughter of the man my father had destroyed to build this "sweet life" I loved so much.
"Amir?" Ashley's voice was cautious now, the "Golden Couple" veneer cracking. "You look like you've seen a ghost."
I stood up, the "Polished" part of me finally giving way to the "Rogue." I didn't care about the aesthetic. I didn't care about the club or the Ace of Spades.
"I need some air," I said, my voice low and dangerous.
"Amir, stay," Max said, his eyes widening as he realized he'd touched a nerve. "It's just a girl."
"She's not just a girl, Max," I said, looking at him with a coldness that made him recoil. "She's the reason the 'sweet life' is a lie."
I walked out of the VIP section, ignoring the stares, ignoring Ashley calling my name. I stepped out into the cool night air of the city, the neon of L'Élysée fading behind me.
Tiana Longman was working in my building. She was the Achilles heel. She was the living, breathing reminder that my family's tranquility was built on the ruins of hers. And the worst part? The part that made my heart beat against my ribs like a trapped animal?
I didn't want to protect my empire from her. I wanted to find her and ask her why she was the only thing in this world that felt real.
The cool night air of the city didn't provide the clarity Amir sought; instead, it tasted like ash.
He stood on the sidewalk, the rhythmic thumping of the bass from L'Élysée vibrating through the soles of his shoes, a reminder of the shallow world he had just abandoned.
His mind was a fractured mirror. There were the "facts" as enunciated by his father, Ahmed Lahman: The Longmans were a family of failed visionaries who had tried to sabotage the Lahman legacy. They were the friction in the engine of progress.
And then there were the "Shadows", the flashes of a girl with scraped knees, the smell of rain on hot pavement, and a laugh that didn't sound like a business transaction.
Amir pressed his palms to his temples. Since the accident ten years ago, his memory was a curated gallery. He knew how to run a conglomerate, how to charm a boardroom, and how to maintain the "Golden Boy" image.
But he didn't know why the sight of Tiana Longman in a lobby made his pulse thrash with a desperate, ancient recognition.
He was told the rift was about money and betrayal. He was told she was an offspring of a family adversary.
But…why was she so difficult to forget, and why did he feel guilty towards the enemy?
Inside the velvet-shrouded sanctuary of the VIP section, the atmosphere had curdled.
Ashley Heavens sat on the edge of the leather sofa, her knuckles white as she gripped a crystal flute of champagne.
The "Golden Couple" headline was currently bleeding out on the floor.
Max Loberstein watched her, his expression a mix of pity and calculated interest.
"He'll cool off, Ash. You know Amir. He gets these... moods. The accident left him a bit twitchy about the past."
"It wasn't a mood, Max," Ashley snapped, finally looking at him.
Her eyes, usually so carefully painted with the hues of high-society grace, were rimmed with a frantic, sharp-edged anger.
"He looked at that name, that girl, and he left. He left me standing there like a decorative prop. Do you have any idea what that looks like? The press is already whispering that the Heavens-Lahman merger is on shaky ground."
"Is that what this is about? The merger?" Max leaned in, his voice dropping.
"It's about everything!" Ashley stood up, her silk gown shimmering like oil on water.
"I have spent two years being the perfect companion. I've managed his schedule, his image, his moods. I've played the role of the devoted fiancée to a man who sometimes looks at me like I'm a stranger he met in an elevator. And now, some ghost from a ruined family shows up and he walks out?"
She downed the rest of her drink, the burn of the alcohol matching the fire in her chest.
"He's broken, Max. Deep down, Amir is a puzzle with half the pieces missing, and I'm the only one holding the box together. If he starts digging into things he's supposed to forget, we all lose. My father... he won't tolerate a delay. You know how Stephen is."
Max shivered involuntarily at the mention of Stephen Heavens. "Just talk to him tomorrow. Remind him who he is."
"I shouldn't have to remind a king he has a crown," Ashley hissed, snatching her clutch. "But I'll do it. Because I don't have a choice."