01:45 AM — Rooftop Lounge, Manhattan
Music pulsed softly beneath dim golden lights. The rooftop bar was private, exclusive enough to keep outsiders away, intimate enough for whispers to travel.
The man, now dressed in a crisp white shirt, half-buttoned, sleeves rolled lazily to his forearms, tucked into sleek black trousers, walked through the doors. He was effortlessly elegant, his damp hair slightly tousled, jawline sharp, and eyes unreadable.
Heads turned. A few women glanced over. But he walked straight to the lounge corner and sat, his hands folded together.
Across the room, two men relaxed into a leather couch, half-laughing over something. One spotted him first.
"Well, well," Edwin called out, raising his glass. "Would you look at that. Mr. Stormy Eyes himself."
"Voila!" Trevor added, setting his drink down. "Someone looks hot tonight. Date gone good or what?"
He let out a small breath and cracked a tired smile. "Just the rain."
They laughed and rejoined him, their drinks in hand.
Trevor leaned forward, smirking. "Come on, you don't walk in dressed like that unless something happened. Spill."
He didn't answer right away. His gaze drifted out toward the edge of the rooftop, where the rain had started falling again, catching the soft glow of the city lights.
"I met someone," he said finally, voice quiet.
The table stilled.
Edwin leaned in, curious. "Met someone… like how?"
He shook his head slightly. "Briefly. At a transit shelter."
Trevor frowned. "What, that's it?"
"That's it," he said, leaning back, expression unreadable. "I left then..."
A moment passed. The two friends exchanged glances.
"You don't even know her name?" Edwin asked.
He didn't respond. Just looked down at his hand for a moment, as if remembering something. Then, with a barely-there shrug:
"Doesn't matter."
The conversation moved on. Edwin slid him a drink, and the three eased into the booth's velvet shadows. The laughter and chatter resumed around them.
But he sat quieter than usual. Letting the rain outside do the talking. Letting the feeling stay where it was. After a while, the laughter faded into corners. The music softened. Rain slid down the glass like slow-moving thoughts he hadn't sorted yet.
He sat still, eyes on the skyline, not searching, just… remembering. He didn't know her name. Didn't know where she went. But something about that moment, brief as it was, had followed him here. He wasn't sure why it mattered. He just knew it did.
The kind of silence that doesn't ask questions. The kind that leaves you wondering anyway. Outside, the city breathed beneath a curtain of silver rain,
alive with noise, stories, stranger and somewhere among them…
her...
He blinked once. Then leaned back into the shadows, letting the night move around him. Unfinished and unspoken.
But far from forgotten…
----
02:12 AM — Upper East Side , New York
The door clicked open, and Kayla stepped inside, rain-soaked hair clinging to her cheeks, her dress damp and sticking to her skin.
"Miss Kayla, you're drenched!" Annie's voice held a hint of worry.
Maria was already rushing past them. "I'll prepare a warm bath immediately."
Kayla simply handed Annie her bag and walked toward her room, water dripping from her heels. Minutes later, steam curled from the marble bathroom. The scent of lavender filled the air as she sank into the water.
The warmth pulled the tension from her limbs. She barely noticed when her head tilted back, eyes closing. Sleep claimed her before she could think twice.
----
Kyle's Office — Midtown, Late Evening
The phone rang twice before Annie picked up.
"She's home," Annie said quickly.
"Good," Kyle replied, his voice calm but carrying weight.
"Let me know if there's anything urgent."
He ended the call and leaned back in his chair, the city lights spilling across the glass wall behind him.
His mind drifted, not to the numbers scattered across his desk, but to Kayla, to his mother…and to Noah. The memories pressed in like old shadows, growing up under cold expectations, the silent rules of the house, the unspoken demand to always be in control.
He remembered standing at that long mahogany dining table as a boy, the air heavy with his father's silence, his mother's carefully measured words. He had learned early that protection didn't come from kindness it came from strategy. That if he wanted to shield the few people who mattered, he had to anticipate threats before they took shape.
Kyle's gaze lingered on the city a moment longer, the quiet hum of the office settling into his ears.
He reached for the folder on the corner of his desk, flipping it open with deliberate precision. Whatever the night held for the others, his part was clear, no loose ends, no surprises.
With one last glance at the skyline, he closed the blinds. The city disappeared, and all that remained was the work.
----
Next Morning — Kayla's Apartment
Golden sunlight spilled through the curtains. Kayla stood before the mirror in a flowing, cream silk midi-dress with a cinched waist, soft pleats, and delicate pearl buttons running from collar to hem. Her hair was swept into an elegant low bun, a few loose strands framing her face. Diamond studs caught the light as she slipped on her nude heels.
Her phone buzzed. She answered, listening in silence, her hand pausing mid-movement.
She answered, paused for a long moment, and said simply, "Okay."
----
An Hour Later — Midtown Café
It was a small corner café, framed by large windows where sunlight streamed in and dust motes floated lazily in the air. The polished wood counters gleamed, and shelves lined with jars of coffee beans gave off a warm, earthy aroma. Soft jazz played low, blending with the gentle clinking of cups and the scent of buttered croissants.
Kyle was already seated at a window table. Kayla walked in, her presence drawing a subtle hush in the space, though no one stared for long. She crossed to his table and sat opposite him.
The waiter appeared, took their orders, and left. Silence stretched.
"About last night," Kyle said, his gaze steady. "I should've come for you."
She didn't respond. He reached into his coat pocket and set a small velvet box between them. She glanced at it, then back at him, expression unreadable.
Their food arrived, shifting the conversation to safer ground. As they stood, Kayla mentioned, "I'm meeting Sophia after this."
Kyle only nodded.
----
Later — In the Car with Sophia
Kayla and Sophia were heading to the mall to pick up Sophia's younger sister when Sophia spoke.
"The first round of selection for Ravenswood University is over," she said, worry flickering beneath her words.
"She made it… but there's still more ahead."
Kayla shifted slightly, about to speak "I—"
Sophia smiled and cut her off. "You know I trust you, right?"
Kayla nodded.
"I'll come to you if I fall… if I feel I can't do it. But until then, I want to do it all myself. For her... To make her believe she should never stop dreaming. And she'll know her sister would do anything for her."
Kayla gave her a small, warm smile. She could make calls, pull strings, fix it all, but she wouldn't. Not now. Respecting Sophia's wish to fight her own battles mattered more.
----
Afternoon — Belmont's Fine Dining, Central Park View
Kayla sat at a long table with Catherine and several members of the investigation office staff. The plates were scattered with the remains of grilled sea bass, pasta dishes, and fresh salads, their laughter mixing with clinking glasses.
One of the junior analysts leaned toward Kayla with a grin. "If we keep having lunches like this, our expense reports will get audited."
Catherine smirked. "At least then we'll have something new to investigate."
A data specialist across the table chimed in,
"Yeah, and I'd bet half of us would turn state's witness if dessert was involved."
Kayla laughed. "I think you're all just fishing for another round of tiramisu."
"Speaking of fishing," the same analyst said, tapping his fork,
"Kayla, did you ever get anything out of that witness from the harbor?"
Kayla shook her head. "Not much, just a lot of colorful language and a complaint about the coffee."
"That's still more than we got from the councilman last week,"
Catherine muttered, drawing a round of knowing chuckles.
"Don't remind me," another investigator groaned.
"I aged five years in that interview."
They swapped banter and theories about the ongoing case until the group began standing, still chatting as they moved toward the door.
----
Earlier — Somewhere Across Town
"Edwin, can't your ass wake up earlier?"
"Why always me?" Trevor shot back. "
Ask Riven, he was the one with the meeting."
Riven started to reply, but Trevor suddenly leaned forward.
"Robert, stop!"
The driver braked hard.
"What the hell—" Edwin started.
"Let's get something from Belmont's," Trevor grinned.
They bickered their way inside the restaurant a sprawling, elegant space filled with Manhattan's elite. Crystal chandeliers glowed overhead; low conversation and the clink of cutlery filled the air.
Near the entrance, a little girl bumped into Edwin. Her mother quickly apologized. Edwin knelt briefly, exchanging a few light words before standing.
As they moved toward their reserved table, a group passed them.
Riven's POV
I was half-listening to Edwin when something made me pause.
A scent warm, faintly floral, but unmistakable. Carrying a whisper of something I couldn't place slipped into the air between the clink of glasses and the low murmur of the restaurant.
Familiar.
Too familiar.
My eyes tracked the group: a few men and women, mid-to-late twenties.
My gaze settled on the back of one figure, straight posture, a deliberate tilt of the head, steps unhurried.
It wasn't the first time I'd felt this pull. A familiarity I couldn't name..
And just like before, I couldn't look away…