Nadia slipped into the driver's seat of her car and shut the door, finally allowing herself to breathe.
The tension of the meeting, the confrontation with Sara and Kareem and weight of the stakes—all of it had been pressing down on her. But now, in the quiet solitude of her car, she could finally release the breath she didn't know she was holding.
Her eyes landed on the black bento box resting on the passenger seat.
She had been too preoccupied earlier to pay attention to it, but now, as the adrenaline slowly wore off, she realized she was starving.
With a small exhale, she picked it up and flipped open the lid.
Inside was an immaculate arrangement of food—grilled salmon, steamed vegetables, fluffy rice, and even a side of carefully cut fruits. Everything was arranged with almost obsessive precision.
She huffed.
Of course he'd be a perfectionist, even with food.
She reached for the note tucked beside it.
> Eat properly.
You need energy to fight the wars you keep walking into.
—Z
Nadia scoffed, but a small, reluctant smile tugged at her lips.
Annoying.
Possessive.
Overbearing.
She grumbled to hersekf but she still ate.
As she chewed, her mind whirled, dissecting the events of the day, planning her next move.
She had bought herself time.
But time alone wasn't enough.
She needed to strike.
And soon.
__
A massive golden 'A' gleamed at the top of the 60 story skyscraper, a symbol of power, wealth, and absolute dominance.
Inside the penthouse office, perched at the highest floor of the Alaric Empire, Zayne Alaric sat behind his massive black desk, watching her.
The sleek, high-definition screen in front of him played a compilation of the meeting—every angle, every detail, every movement she had made.
His sharp gaze traced the scene, lips curving slightly.
The way she had thrown down the Alaric documents with such confidence.
The way she had met Sara's sneer with cool indifference.
The way she had held her ground against Kareem, never once looking intimidated.
A slow smirk curled his lips.
Perfect.
But...
Kareem.
That bastard.
Zayne's expression darkened as he watched the interaction between them.
The way Kareem had looked at her.
The easy charm in his voice.
And the worst part, the fact that she had acknowledged him at all.
His fingers drummed against the desk, the sharp click echoing in the silent room.
Kareem was pushing it.
Zayne could tolerate many things.
But another man looking at his woman? Speaking to his woman? No, Unacceptable.
A muscle in his jaw ticked.
His mind—his instincts—whispered violent thoughts.
It would be so easy.
One call.
One word.
And Kareem Aslan would disappear from the face of the earth.
Just as the thought fully formed, a loud, amused laugh cut through the tension.
"Well, this is a sight."
Zayne's head snapped up.
Leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed, a knowing smirk playing on his lips.
His older brother.
Rafael Alaric.
Zayne scowled immediately, shutting the screen off. "What do you want?"
Rafael strolled in like he owned the place—because, technically, he did. He was still the official head of the Alaric empire, even if Zayne ran most of the business now, sometimes even the world forgets about him, but it's fine since Zayne did build the empire and decided to honour him with the chairman position.
"I came to check on my baby brother, of course." Rafael smirked, plopping onto the couch opposite Zayne's desk.
"I'm not a baby," Zayne muttered, voice petulant.
"Right, right." Rafael leaned back, arms spread across the couch. "A terrifying business mogul. The almighty Zayne Alaric." He grinned. "Who just so happens to be pouting because a certain little wife of his had to breathe the same air as another man."
Zayne's glare could've burned holes through steel. "I'm not pouting."
"You are."
"I am not."
Rafael just raised an eyebrow.
Zayne clenched his jaw, crossing his arms like a sulking child.
Rafael burst into laughter. "Oh, I missed this."
Zayne huffed. "You act like you don't see me every day."
"This version of you? No, I don't." Rafael grinned. "Everyone else gets the cold, ruthless CEO. I'm the only one who gets this Zayne. The bratty one."
Zayne groaned, running a hand through his hair. "Why are you here?"
Rafael shrugged. "I was going to talk to you about the board meeting next week, but now I'm more entertained by this." His smirk widened. "So. Tell me. How's married life?"
Zayne rolled his eyes. "It's fine."
"Fine?" Rafael laughed. "You're watching her on multiple camera angles like a lovesick stalker, and you call it fine?"
Zayne scowled. "I was just making sure she handled the meeting well."
"Mm-hmm."
"I was."
Rafael's grin was positively evil. "You're obsessed."
"I'm not."
"You are."
Zayne huffed. "It's just—" He clenched his jaw. "I invested in this."
Rafael snorted. "Oh, is that what we're calling it now?"
Zayne ignored him. "She needs to win. I need to make sure of that. That means no distractions. That means no Kareem Aslan breathing near her."
Rafael shook his head in amusement. "You know, normal husbands don't have this strong of a reaction when another man talks to their wife."
Zayne's gaze darkened. "She's mine."
Rafael raised an eyebrow.
"She doesn't believe it yet," Zayne admitted, voice softer, almost contemplative. Then, his eyes flashed, a slow, dangerous smirk curling on his lips. "But soon she will."
Rafael chuckled, shaking his head. "You're so far gone."
Zayne just smirked.
And Rafael, for the first time in years, worried for the poor woman who had unknowingly walked into the spider's web.