The rooftop restaurant was reserved in Kian's name. Press had already gathered outside the building like vultures.
Kian stood at their table before she even arrived, hands in his pockets, jaw tight. The skyline behind him was sharp and golden, but he didn't notice it.
He noticed her.
Lianna stepped out of the elevator as iff she owned the sky….wearing a dark, slick, tailored dress that clung to her. Her heels clicked with quiet authority as she walked up to him.
She didn't smile at first.
Not until she was close enough to see the way he looked at her.
Like she was someone else now.
Someone he couldn't predict.
Someone he never really knew.
"Lianna," he said, almost like a question.
"Kian," she replied with a calm, practiced grace.
They sat, and he went straight to the point.
"I'm offering double the market value," he said. "Take it. Walk away from Vale."
Her fingers traced the rim of her glass. "Why?" she asked. "Afraid I'll do better with it than you did?"
His jaw clenched. "You're playing a dangerous game."
"No," she said, tilting her head, "I'm just finally playing."
He stared at her for a long moment….three years of marriage behind his eyes, and still he couldn't read her.
She leaned in slightly, her voice velvet.
"I think I'll hold on to them. For now."
Then, she stood.
Graceful. Poised. In full view of the media lenses just waiting outside the glass.
She walked away from him without looking back.
Kian followed.
He caught up with her just outside the building as the press swarmed like bees. Lianna slipped her sunglasses over her eyes, calm even now.
Then a voice pierced the chaos—
"Kian!"
A journalist broke through the noise.
"Is it true your ex-wife owns half your company now?"
Kian froze.
The cameras clicked.
Reporters leaned in.
Lianna turned slightly toward the sound, just enough for her smile to flicker into view.
But Kian said nothing.
Not a word.
Because silence was sometimes louder than anything he could say.
——
The morning broke with headlines that bled across every business column, fashion blog, and trending topic thread:
"The Woman Who Stole Half of Vale"
"Beauty, Brains, and Power: Lianna Vale Steps Into the Spotlight"
"From Ex-Wife to Empire Queen: Lianna Vale's Rise"
The photos were even sharper than the headlines.
Lianna….draped in white silk and pearls…sitting in the corner of a sun-drenched office, gaze confident, legs crossed.
In another, she stood beside Damian Black at a charity gala, her hand lightly resting on his arm, the red of her dress burning brighter than the cameras' flash.
She spoke on podcasts, in interviews, on panels about equity, power, and reclaiming identity.
"Women don't need to be quiet to be respected."
"I was someone's wife. Now I'm someone's future."
"Power isn't about control. It's about ownership. And I own who I am."
Her words were clipped and precise, her smile effortless, her presence….undeniable.
Social media exploded.
Her following tripled within a week.
Major magazines called her the next woman to watch.
Corporate analysts tried to calculate her next move like it was stock projection.
Lianna sat in her penthouse late at night, watching the city blink below her like a sea of shattered diamonds. Sera scrolled through the day's headlines on a tablet, smirking as she read them aloud.
"'Lianna Vale outshines her ex at global summit.'
'Lianna stuns in gold couture at women's leadership panel.'
'Lianna Vale speaks, and Wall Street listens.'"
Lianna sipped her wine and said nothing.
She didn't need to.
Across the city, in the darkened stillness of the Vale tower, Kian stood alone in his office.
His phone buzzed….news alerts, notifications, email pings….all with her name.
He silenced them all and looked out the window.
The city didn't blink back.
She had become everything he once told her not to be.
Too loud. Too bright. Too much.
And yet—
She was everywhere.
And there was nothing he could do to stop it.
Not anymore.
——-
Cassandra watched it all unfold like a nightmare she couldn't wake up from.
On every screen, every headline, every trending post…..there was Lianna.
Not the quiet girl who once slipped into boardrooms behind her husband's shadow.
This version of Lianna stood tall. Spoke with poise.
Owned the room.
"The Rightful First Lady of Vale,"
one headline read, beneath a striking image of Lianna at a gala….
Cassandra's breath hitched.
Then her rage snapped.
The phone in her hand flew….shattering against the far wall of Kian's penthouse.
She clutched her hair and let the tears fall, pacing as her chest heaved.
"She's not even his wife anymore!" she screamed at the silence.
Her hands trembled as she grabbed her other phone and dialed.
Kian's number.
Busy.
She cursed, redialed. Again. And again.
Still busy.
"Pick up, damn it!"
"Why are you doing this to me?!"
But he wasn't in the city.
He wasn't even in the country.
⸻
Kian sat in his private ocean estate —glass walls open to the sea breeze, laptop open in front of him, but his gaze unfocused.
Lianna.
Her voice.
Her words from the rooftop.
"I think I'll hold on to them. For now."
It echoed in his head like a slow burn.
She had always been soft-spoken. Gentle. Obedient, once.
But that woman….at that rooftop….was fire and ice.
His phone buzzed again.
Cassandra.
He didn't answer.
Instead, he clicked through an old folder of photos…..his wedding day. Their honeymoon.
Lianna, smiling. In love. In his arms.
His fingers hovered above the trackpad.
He didn't delete them.
He couldn't.
⸻
Cassandra arrived unannounced the next day.
He barely acknowledged her.
No kiss. No greeting.
Just a nod and a return to his screen.
She tried to touch his arm. He flinched.
She leaned in to kiss his cheek. He stepped away.
"Kian," she whispered, her voice cracking. "Talk to me."
He didn't.
"I love you!" she shouted. "I've loved you since before she even existed to you!"
Still, nothing.
"You act like I'm invisible. Like I don't matter. Like…..like she's still your wife!"
Her voice cracked into a sob as she turned and fled the room.
He didn't follow.
Because maybe…
Maybe she was right.
⸻
Meanwhile, the city buzzed.
Lianna and Damian were becoming a fixture in the media.
They were photographed at art auctions, business summits, and late-night dinners where their laughter said more than any interview could.
Her arm curled lightly through his.
Their chemistry magnetic. Natural. Dangerous.
And Kian saw it all.
Every picture. Every frame.
He dragged his hand through his hair, rubbing his temple like it could stop the ache that had settled behind his eyes.
He missed her.
Not the media's version.
His version.
The girl who used to look into his eyes like he was her world.
The one who used to say yes to everything he asked.
The one who used to wait for him to come home.
He shut the laptop.
The silence of the ocean surrounded him.
He regretted letting her go.