"Not all betrayals are loud. Some come with a suit, a signature, and a smile."
The morning following the gala tasted of too many thoughts and not enough rest.
Keira was in the kitchen, barefoot and wrapped in one of the less cumbersome robes she found in the guest closet. Her hair was tied back loosely, eyes still dark-ponied from the night not just for lack of sleep, but for the emotional weight she hadn't shed since the bar.
The sunlight streamed through the high windows, golden and warm. But it didn't reach as far as her chest.
She stirred her tea aimlessly, gazing out into the garden where there was nothing moving. It was the kind of silence that compelled you to listen to things inside yourself that you didn't want to hear.
"You weren't supposed to look at me like that."
His voice lingered in her head, deep and sincere, like a mistake someone had made on purpose.
She didn't like how her heart had reacted.
She didn't like that there was something within her that wanted to trust him.
Steps behind her were the only one with enough nerve to shatter the silence.
Rayyan.
Not in a suit. Not CEO groomed.
Just plain black t-shirt, dark jeans, and messy hair that made him look five years younger. Too human. Too real.
He didn't speak right away.
Neither did she.
He walked to the counter beside her and poured black coffee into a mug like it was muscle memory. No tension. No show. But when he turned slightly, their eyes met for a brief second.
She looked away first.
"There's a lunch meeting today," he said, finally. Voice calm, unreadable. "Imperium Tower. You're on the guest list."
She sipped her tea without replying.
"It's formal. You'll need to be sharp."
Keira set the cup down quietly.
"Another performance?" she asked, without venom.
Rayyan tilted his head, considering.
"This time. it's war."
That made her glance at him. Just once. Just enough.
But not enough to ask what he meant.
Because some things, she'd learned, came with answers she wasn't ready for.
"Of what?"
"That legacies don't disappear just because we stop claiming them."
There was a pause. Just long enough for her pulse to skip once.
"Besides," he added, voice lower now, almost amused, "you're the only one in this house who knows how to smile without actually meaning it."
Keira's mouth twitched. Almost a smile.
"You've been watching me too closely."
"Not closely enough," he said.
The bedroom was lit by golden morning light and the sound of fabric rustling.
Keira stood in front of the mirror, already dressed into a sleek cream-colored dress with padded shoulders and gold trim. She seemed to belong in the room where deals were struck and secrets shared over wine glasses.
She did not feel that she belonged anywhere today.
Behind her, the maid was ironing the hem of the dress. On the vanity, her earrings lay shining, not moved.
She didn't touch them.
Not yet.
The door creaked open with a soft knock that wasn't a question. Rayyan stepped in, suit armor full dark gray tailored to brutal perfection. The contrast between them was jarring. He was war. She was peace pretending not to shake.
Keira turned to him, arms folded lightly.
"Why in the world am I even going?" she asked.
Rayyan did not bat an eyelid.
"Because your last name still holds some pull with the people we're meeting."
"I don't use Davenport anymore."
"They do," he replied matter-of-factly. "And some names resonate longer than we'd like them to."
Keira's gaze narrowed.
"So I'm a human PR stunt now?"
"No," Rayyan went on, moving in closer to her. "You're the reminder."
She arched an eyebrow.
And with that, he turned and left.
Leaving Keira again, aloney.
With a mirror.
A name she no longer answered to.
And a past she was not ready to face.
The car moved in the city like a spectral black, tinted windows, gold silence.
Keira sat in the back of the car beside Rayyan, crossed legs, posture still. Her phone vibrated once sharp, deliberate. She opened it with a look.
From: Mr. Arif
Subject: The Letter
Body:
"I thought you'd want to know… the one you received wasn't the only one. My first draft was much less diplomatic. Watch your back. Even your husband."
Her brows were creased.
Just ever so slightly.
Enough to make Rayyan turn away his gaze.
"Who is it?" he asked. Faced, but not relaxed.
Keira wouldn't glance at him.
"Why? Do you think I'm texting a lover?"
Rayyan raised an eyebrow.
"I think it would take a lot to make you frown before ten a.m."
She slowly swiveled towards him, telephone still flashing in her hand.
"It's someone from my past."
"And that makes you look like that?"
"Not at all," he said quietly.
"Why do you care?" she said lightly. "Are you jealous?"
He did not answer immediately.
His jaw clenched. But his face did not change.
"You want me to be jealous?"
Her voice was soft now, just teasing slightly.
"Would you be better or worse if I told you yes?"
Rayyan's eyes met hers impenetrable, cold fire raging hot beneath the surface.
But he did not say a word.
And in the silence, Keira saw more truth than any confession.
The car stopped in front of Imperium Tower all sheer glass and mirrored steel cutting the heavens like a gods' throne, not one fashioned for men.
A valet opened it. Keira stepped down, heels clicking against the white marble steps, dress immaculate, mask of detachment even more flawless.
Rayyan walked beside her, one hand adjusting cufflinks, face unchanging.
They entered into the grande foyer all gold-veined stone and sleek extravagance. Polish. Spotless. As if the building had never known failure.
Keira's eyes scanned the room. Too clean. Too cold.
Too familiar.
And just when they were reaching the elevator, Rayyan said it.
Casual. Quieter. As if it were a memo, not a bomb.
"Your father might come today."
She stopped.
Just like that.
Her heels paused in mid-step.
She turned back to him, slow and keen.
"Excuse me?"
Rayyan didn't look at her. His voice was level.
"He's on the Davenport Holdings board. This interests him."
"And you tell me now?" she murmured in a tone barely higher than a whisper but she vibrated with something uglier.
"You're part of the company now too."
That was it.
Her face clenched. Eyes went wide not with tears, but with the chill fury of a person struck blind by blood and commerce at the same moment.
She said not another word.
But her silence told it all.
And when the doors of the elevator swung open, Keira walked in without looking back.
Rayyan followed behind.
But something between them had changed.
And it was too quiet to repair.
END OF CHAPTER 10
"And as the elevator rose, so did the storm Keira had spent years trying to bury."