The air in the elevator turned to ice. Charles didn’t move. He just stared at the screen, his face a carved mask of fury. The faint vibration of the descending car was the only sound. For a man who always seemed ten steps ahead, this was the moment he’d been caught flat-footed. The anonymous sender hadn’t just made a move; they’d announced it with a smirk.

"Klaus," I said, the name tasting like ash. "He’s not the traitor. He’s a loose end."

"Anja played us both," Charles said, his voice dangerously quiet. He didn’t look at me. His focus was absolute, locked on the image of the broken man on the screen. "She wanted Klaus out of the way. She fed him just enough information to make him look guilty, then sent him to Paris to ’oversee’ the merger details. She knew he’d drink. She knew he’d talk. She created the perfect leak and handed him to Lacroix on a silver platter."

The elevator doors opened into the lobby. The storm of reporters was still waiting, but Charles didn’t even seem to notice them. He moved with a purpose that was terrifying, his long strides eating up the marble floor. I had to jog to keep up. His bodyguards closed ranks around us, a wall of muscle and dark suits that parted the sea of flashing cameras and shouted questions.

"Get the jet ready," Charles said into his phone, his voice clipped and sharp. "Now. Flight plan to Berlin. I want us in the air in twenty minutes."

He hung up and shoved the phone back into his pocket. We were in the back of the Mercedes, the city lights of Paris smearing past the tinted windows, before I could process the whiplash.

"Berlin?" I asked. "But Anja told me not to come back. She wants me here."

"Anja’s plan is obsolete," he said, staring out the window. "She wanted you in Paris to be the shiny object distracting Lacroix. Well, the shiny object is about to lead him straight to the one thing that could actually save that factory. We can’t let that happen."

He finally turned to look at me, and the intensity in his eyes made it hard to breathe. "Klaus is the key. He’s been at Nexus Tech for twenty years. He knows every secret, every hidden corner, every off-book account. If he tells Lacroix where Dieter hid the original prototype, the game is over. Lacroix won’t just leak the story. He’ll steal the technology and crush what’s left of the factory with it."

The drive to the airport was a blur of silent, tense energy. Charles was on his phone, his voice a low, steady stream of commands. He wasn’t just a CEO anymore; he was a general mobilizing his troops. I could hear Lisa’s voice on the other end, her usual calm professionalism strained with urgency.

By the time we got to the jet, the engines were already humming. A man in a dark suit was waiting for us at the bottom of the stairs, holding a tablet.

"Sir," he said, nodding to Charles. "We have a location on the bar. It’s called ’The Blue Lantern.’ It’s in the 9th arrondissement. Our man on the ground says Klaus is still there. He’s had a lot to drink."

"Is he alone?" Charles asked.

"No," the man said, swiping the screen. "He’s with two men. Expensive suits. Eastern European. They’re keeping him close."

"Lacroix’s men," Charles said. It wasn’t a question.

We climbed the stairs and settled into the plush leather cabin. The moment the door was sealed, Charles turned to me.

"I’m not going to ask you to stay here," he said. "This is your mess as much as it is mine. But when we land, you follow my lead. You don’t speak, you don’t move, you don’t do anything unless I tell you to. Understand?"

The instinct to push back rose fast and hot. I didn’t like being handled, didn’t like being told where to stand and when to breathe. But his gaze pinned me in place—cold, precise, absolute. This was his battlefield, and right now, I was under his command.

Then i nodded. "I understand."

The flight to Berlin was the shortest two hours of my life. Charles worked, his fingers flying across his laptop, his phone pressed to his ear. He was coordinating with his security team in Berlin, with lawyers, with people whose names I didn’t recognize but whose titles implied a world of power I couldn’t imagine. I just sat there, a useless passenger, my own mind a chaotic mess. Anja. Klaus. Dieter. Lacroix. The names swirled in my head, a tangled web of betrayal and desperation.

We landed at a private airfield outside the city just after midnight. A black SUV was waiting for us, its engine running. The city was a blur of lights as we sped toward the center, toward the factory district.

The bar was exactly as the man in Paris had described. A small, dingy place with a flickering neon sign. It was the kind of place where secrets went to die. Charles’s security team was already there. Two of them were stationed across the street, looking like lost tourists. Another was leaning against a wall next to the door, smoking a cigarette.

Charles parked the car a block away. "Stay here," he said to me, his voice leaving no room for argument. He got out of the car and walked over to the man by the door. They spoke for a few moments, their voices too low for me to hear. Then Charles nodded and walked back to the car.

"He’s still inside," he said, getting back in. "He’s with them. They’re waiting for a call."

"For what?" I asked.

"For the green light to take him," Charles said. "Lacroix is a cautious man. He won’t make a move until he’s sure he can get what he wants."

He looked at me, his eyes dark and serious. "This is where it gets complicated. We can’t just go in there and grab him. They’ll be expecting that. We need to get him out quietly, without a fight."

"So what’s the plan?" I asked.

"The plan," he said, a slow, dangerous smile spreading across his face, "is to give them what they want."

He picked up his phone and made a call. "Lisa," he said. "It’s time. Release the statement."

He hung up and looked at me. "In about five minutes, every news outlet in Europe will receive a press release from Damien Corp. It will state that, due to a strategic realignment, we are withdrawing from the Lacroix acquisition and selling our shares in his company to a private equity firm. It will also state that we are immediately ceasing all operations at the Nexus Tech facility and preparing it for liquidation."

My eyes went wide. "You can’t be serious. You’ll destroy everything."

"It’s a bluff," he said. "A very expensive, very public bluff. Lacroix will see it as a victory. He’ll think he’s won. He’ll call his men off Klaus, because he won’t need him anymore. He’ll have the factory, and he’ll have the satisfaction of watching me lose."

"And then what?" I asked.

"And then," he said, his smile widening, "we walk in and take Klaus back while they’re busy celebrating."

It was insane. It was reckless. It was the kind of move that only a man like Charles Damien could pull off.

Five minutes later, his phone buzzed. It was a text from his security team. They’re leaving. He’s all yours.

Charles nodded to me. "Let’s go."

We walked into the bar. The two men in expensive suits were just getting up from their table. They saw Charles, and their eyes widened in surprise. They didn’t say a word. They just turned and walked out, leaving Klaus sitting alone, his head on the table, a half-empty glass of whiskey in front of him.

Charles sat down opposite him. I stood behind him, a silent shadow.

"Klaus," Charles said, his voice gentle.

Klaus looked up, his eyes red and swollen. He saw Charles, and a wave of relief washed over his face. "You came," he slurred. "I didn’t think you’d come."

"Of course I came," Charles said. "You’re one of mine."

Klaus let out a shaky breath, his shoulders sagging as if something inside him had finally given way.

He helped Klaus to his feet. "Let’s go."

We led him out of the bar and into the waiting SUV. Klaus was drunk and exhausted, and he fell asleep almost immediately, his head resting on my shoulder. 𝑓𝘳𝘦𝑒𝑤𝑒𝘣𝘯ℴ𝘷𝘦𝓁.𝑐𝑜𝑚

Charles looked at me, his eyes softening for a moment. "You did good," he said.

"I didn’t do anything," I said.

"You were here," he said. "That’s enough."

We drove to the factory, the empty streets of Berlin flying past. The night was over, but the war was just beginning. As we pulled up to the gates of Nexus Tech, my phone buzzed. It was a text from an unknown number.

I opened it, my heart pounding. It was a photo of Charles and me leaving the bar in Paris, Klaus between us. Below it, the text read:

Nice save. The game isn’t over. It’s just getting interesting.

My stomach tightened, this wasn’t over. Not even close.