The evening skyline of Hong Kong glittered beyond the floor-to-ceiling windows of Henry's suite; the city alive with neon reflections dancing across the harbor. But Henry barely noticed. He stared at his phone long after sending his usual goodnight text to Em.

"Two more days, baby," Henry promised, low and steady. "And when I get back? We're handling this together."

It was already the next morning for her in the United States, but for him, the night stretched on, restless and charged. Not after what she'd told him. Not after hearing Chase Blackwood's name again and feeling the fury coil deep in his chest like a viper ready to strike.

He knew that name all too well. But hearing it from her? That had thrown him. Of all the men Emilia could have been with, it had to be Chase Blackwood. The same Chase he had known for years, the same entitled bastard who had been trying to claw his way into his father's approval since they were teenagers.

The realization had sent a sharp jolt of surprise through him, followed immediately by anger. He couldn't believe he hadn't met Em sooner. If he had, there was no way Chase would have gotten anywhere near her. And the fact that Chase had never once brought her to a business function? That only confirmed what Henry had always suspected Chase was an idiot.

Em was intelligent, charming, and could make anyone laugh. She would have been a gem at any business dinner, smoothing tensions and making connections in ways Chase never could. The fact that he had deliberately kept her separate from his world only proved how little he had deserved her.

Henry exhaled sharply, his grip tightening around his phone. Chase had always been a selfish, conniving bastard. Henry had seen it firsthand, years ago, the very first time they had met.

Flashback

It had been at a business retreat, one of those high-end events where sons of powerful men were sent to learn the so-called art of leadership. Chase was eighteen, Henry twenty-one. Their fathers were in negotiations at the time, testing the waters of a potential partnership.

Henry had walked into the main lodge, dressed in the required business casual, already weary of the self-importance oozing from the room. That's when he'd first laid eyes on Chase Blackwood—leaning back in a chair, spinning a pen between his fingers, grinning like he already owned the place.

"Kingsley," Chase had greeted smoothly. "Didn't think you'd show."

Henry had arched a brow. "Why wouldn't I?"

Chase had smirked. "Figured you were too busy playing Daddy's golden boy."

Henry had known then what Chase was—someone who thrived on power plays, who found satisfaction in making others feel small.

The retreat had been a series of workshops, competitive exercises meant to simulate high-stakes decision-making. It had been during one of those exercises—a mock negotiation—that thing turned ugly.

Henry had been leading his group through a strategy when, suddenly, everything fell apart. Documents went missing, emails were tampered with, and key figures were suddenly unavailable. The whole thing unraveled, leaving his team in shambles while Chase's group miraculously had everything fall into place.

Henry hadn't had proof at the time, but he knew. He'd seen the smug satisfaction in Chase's eyes, the way he had soaked up his father's rare praise like a parched man finding water.

Later that night, Chase had found Henry alone by the firepit outside.

"Tough break, Kingsley," he'd drawled, hands in his pockets. "Guess leadership isn't for everyone."

Henry had stared at him, feeling that cold, simmering anger settle into his bones. "You sabotaged us."

Chase had tilted his head, pretending to consider it. "Now, that's a serious accusation. Maybe you just weren't as prepared as you thought."

Henry had clenched his jaw. "You did it for him. For his approval."

For the first time, Chase's smirk had faltered. Just slightly. But then he had laughed, clapping Henry on the shoulder. "Welcome to the real world, Kingsley. No one cares how hard you work. They care who wins."

End of Flashback

Henry had never forgotten that night. The way Chase had walked away, basking in the temporary warmth of his father's attention. The way it had solidified something in Henry—an understanding that Chase Blackwood was not just entitled. He was dangerous in the way cowards were—willing to do anything to win without ever getting his own hands dirty.

And now, years later, here Chase was again. Using his family name like a weapon. Hurting Em, even from a distance.

Henry exhaled slowly, running a hand through his hair. The city below continued its never-ending pulse, car horns and distant chatter barely registering in his ears. He could feel it—the part of himself he usually kept on a tight leash. The part of him that did not tolerate threats. The part that only surfaced when someone hurt the people he cared about.

Chase had made a mistake.

Because Henry wasn't just angry.

He was furious.

And the difference between the two was simple: Anger fades. Fury acts.

Henry pulled out his laptop, his fingers moving swiftly over the keyboard. Chase Blackwood thought he was untouchable. He thought his name meant power. But Henry knew better. Everyone had a weak spot.

And Henry Kingsley was very, very good at finding them.

He reached for his phone and dialed a secure number. The line barely rang before it was answered.

"Cayden," Henry said, his voice low and precise. "I need you to keep an extra eye on Chase Blackwood. If he gets anywhere near Emilia, or if you catch even a whisper of something that could ruin her, stop it immediately and then call me."

There was no hesitation on the other end. "Of course, boss."

A slow, satisfied smile ghosted over Henry's lips. "Good. Keep me posted."

As the call ended, Henry leaned back, eyes dark with promise. Chase had played his games unchecked for too long.

That was about to change.

____________________________________

Back in the United States, a cool morning breeze carried the scent of fresh espresso through Emilia's penthouse. The warmth of Hong Kong's neon haze was half a world away, but Emilia had her own weight pressing on her chest.

She stretched her arms overhead as she slipped out of bed, padding toward the kitchen. The rich aroma of freshly brewed espresso hit her first.

"You've gotta be kidding me," Emilia groaned playfully, crossing her arms as she spotted Roxy leaning lazily against the counter, sipping from a steaming mug.

Roxy smirked over the rim of her cup. "Rise and shine, sweetheart. You snooze; you lose."

Emilia rolled her eyes but couldn't help the grin tugging at her lips. "I was trying to be a good friend. You know, bring you coffee in bed, like the best roommates do. But no. You had to go and ruin it."

Roxy scoffed. "First of all, I make my own magic bean juice. Second, if you brought me coffee in bed, I'd be suspicious. What do you want? My firstborn? My shoe collection?"

"I was just being nice," Emilia protested, grabbing her own mug and pouring herself a cup. "But now that you mention it, I wouldn't say no to those Louboutins you never wear."

"Over my dead body," Roxy shot back, shaking her head. "Anyway, I gotta run soon. Getting new headshots today and then meeting with my lawyer. Jonas is being a dick again. Apparently, he's suddenly decided he deserves more money."

Emilia frowned. "God, he's exhausting. You want me to come with? I can sit in the corner and make angry faces at him."

Roxy let out a laugh. "Tempting, but no. We can bitch about it later over wine."

"Deal," Emilia said, raising her mug in a toast before they both took a sip.

The morning passed in a blur, and soon, they were in Emilia's car, heading toward Roxy's first stop. The city bustled around them, but the familiar comfort of their banter made the drive feel effortless.

As Emilia pulled up to the photography studio, she shot her friend a glance. "Call if you need anything. Or if the photographer is hot and you need a wing woman."

Roxy snorted. "Please. I don't need a wing woman. But I will call if I need backup with my lawyer."

"You better."

As Roxy climbed out, Emilia couldn't resist one last jab. "Oh, and say hi to Travis for me. You know, your future husband?"

Roxy spun around, narrowing her eyes. "Don't make me regret telling you things, Em"

Emilia grinned. "Too late. Love you!"

"Yeah, yeah, whatever," Roxy called back, waving her off before disappearing inside.

With a soft chuckle, Emilia pulled away and turned toward her next destination—the hospital.

As she approached the parking lot, the lightheartedness of her morning began to fade, replaced by a gnawing weight in her chest. Her fingers gripped the steering wheel a little tighter as she pulled into a spot, her heartbeat thrumming a little too loud in her ears.

Hospitals had a way of making everything feel sterile and cold, no matter how much sunlight streamed through the windows. The thought of walking through those sliding glass doors again made her stomach twist. The fluorescent lights, the hushed tones, the quiet beeping of monitors—it all carried too much weight, too many memories she wasn't ready to face.

She exhaled sharply, staring at the entrance from behind her windshield, trying to muster the courage to move. The anticipation made her limbs feel heavy; her breath uneven. But she had no choice.

With a deep inhale, Emilia pushed the car door open and stepped out, steadying herself. One foot in front of the other. That's all she had to do.

One step at a time.

_____________________________________

As Emilia approached Nexus Care Hospital, she rolled her shoulders, mentally preparing for the shift in energy. The second she walked through the doors; she was met with the hum of interns gossiping near the nurse's station. Their excitement was palpable, their voices a mix of hushed whispers and barely contained energy.

She chuckled to herself, shaking her head. God, she remembered being that young. When every patient was a puzzle to solve, when even the smallest case felt like an adventure. It was almost nostalgic. Almost.

Shaking off the thought, she clocked in and made her way to her office, where a familiar, beaming face was waiting.

"Finally! I missed you," Yanique gushed, pulling Emilia into a quick hug. "And damn, girl, you look good. Something tells me that's not just from beauty sleep."

Emilia laughed, shaking her head. "You're impossible."

Yanique raised a brow. "Spill. I know that look."

Em bit her lip. "... I think I'm falling in love with him."

Yanique's eyes widened before she let out a high-pitched squeal. "Oh my God, Em! That's huge!"

Emilia smiled, warmth filling her chest, but then her expression grew serious. "But enough about me. How's the hospital? What did I miss?"

Yanique's excitement faded, replaced with exasperation. "Oh, girl. It's been chaos. Dr. Michaels is being a complete nightmare to Dr. Robbins, but Claire isn't holding back. It's been insane."

Emilia sighed. "Of course it has. I should go check in with Claire real quick."

As Emilia turned down the hallway toward Dr. Robbins' office, a weight settled in her chest. The name Dr. Michaels had already planted unease in her mind, and she wasn't looking forward to whatever chaos he had stirred up this time.

And then, as if summoned by thought alone, Dr. Michaels appeared.

He stood in her path, his expression dark and unyielding. His gaze burned through her like a silent warning. Emilia's fingers twitched, instinctively wanting to ball into fists, but she held steady.

Not today.

Dr. Michaels didn't say a word. Just held her stare for a second too long before stepping aside with a sharp movement.

Emilia squared her shoulders and quickened her pace, refusing to let him rattle her. Whatever storm was brewing, she'd be ready.