Zara had always known that power came at a cost.
But she hadn't expected peace to feel this uneasy.
A month had passed since Damien's empire collapsed. The headlines had shifted in their favor: Zara Raine reclaims legacy. Lucien Vale cleanses ValeCorp. Public perception had turned, yet Zara couldn't shake the feeling that something was coming—lurking in the shadows, waiting to strike.
She was right.
Lucien was busier than ever, and though they still found time together, the intimacy between them had grown volatile—a beautiful chaos of passion and tension. Some nights, they clung to each other like lifelines. Other nights, they fought. Hard. Words thrown like knives, only to be followed by desperate kisses and skin pressed against skin, like they were trying to erase the pain through pleasure.
It was during one of those nights, when Zara lay tangled in silk sheets, her body sore and her heart overwhelmed, that the call came.
A mysterious shell company had placed a bid on one of ValeCorp's prime assets. But this wasn't any buyer.
It was registered under a name she hadn't heard in years: Sebastian Hale.
Her father's former rival.
Lucien was already pulling on his shirt when she sat up, her chest tight. "Sebastian Hale was declared dead five years ago."
"Exactly," Lucien said grimly. "Someone's resurrecting ghosts. And they know exactly where to strike."
The investigation began immediately. Zara worked alongside ValeCorp's legal and intelligence teams, piecing together the money trail. But something didn't add up. Every lead led to another dead end—until one night, she found a message in her private inbox. No name. Just a line of text:
"You thought Damien was the devil. You haven't met the true puppeteer."
Meanwhile, Zara and Lucien's relationship was teetering on the edge. The deeper they went into the conspiracy, the more vulnerable they became. Trust became fragile. Every intimate moment between them felt like it could be their last. Yet every time Zara thought about walking away, Lucien would pull her back in.
One night, after a brutal board meeting, Zara tried to push him away. "We keep hurting each other."
Lucien stared at her, voice low, wrecked. "I'm addicted to you, Zara. Not just your body. You. If something ever happened to you... I wouldn't survive it."
She kissed him then, not to silence him, but to prove she felt the same.
A new enemy emerged from the ashes: Helena Cross, Damien's secret legal fixer, now trying to reclaim the power vacuum left behind. She wasn't just ruthless; she was brilliant. And she wanted ValeCorp.
Helena made her first public move during a live shareholder debate, calling Zara a fraud and claiming Lucien forged documents to place her back in the board.
Zara responded not with words, but with facts.
"Let's talk about real fraud, Helena," she said, her voice cold, eyes blazing. "Like the offshore accounts your name is linked to—and the whistleblower you paid to disappear."
The press erupted. Helena walked offstage, defeated. But Zara knew it was only the beginning.
That night, Lucien and Zara didn't speak much. Their lovemaking was silent, rough, desperate. When it was over, Lucien held her like he couldn't bear to let go.
"You scare me sometimes," he whispered into her hair.
Zara turned to him, fingers on his jaw. "Because you love me? Or because I might destroy you too?"
He didn't answer. He didn't have to.
Then came the real twist.
A recording.
A conversation between Damien, Ethan, and an unidentified voice. They spoke of a plan that predated Zara's father's downfall. A scheme to wipe out the Raine family entirely—financially and publicly. The mystery voice gave the orders.
Lucien's face turned to stone as the audio played.
Zara froze.
The voice was familiar.
It was Lucien's father.
Alive. And hiding.
Lucien lost it. Rage tore through him like wildfire. For years, he believed his father had died under mysterious circumstances. Now, he realized he'd been alive, orchestrating horrors from the shadows.
"He went after you," Lucien said, shaking. "He went after you."
"Lucien... this is bigger than us."
"No, Zara. You're my bottom line. And he crossed it."