The rain wouldn't stop.It blurred the windows of Steven Ross's penthouse like a veil, softening the jagged skyline he once ruled. Each drop felt like a clock ticking against him—each gust of wind like another corner of his empire collapsing.
He sat slouched on the edge of his leather couch, still in last night's shirt, its cuffs wrinkled, collar open. On the coffee table, a newspaper headline screamed:
ROSS INTERNATIONAL IN FINANCIAL FREEFALL – FOUR EXECUTIVES RESIGN
The article tore him open. Another contract lost. Another investor walking out. His once-pristine company now floated in headlines alongside the word "crisis."
And Helen's name?
It now symbolized the opposite.
Élan Celebrates 300 Million in Private Funding – Helen Ross Named Businesswoman of the Year
Her image had become a kind of torment—her poised silhouette framed against success, confidence, and class.
And Steven… had none of it left.
---
He had tried everything.
Lavish letters. Handwritten notes. Flowers flown in from Florence. A private invitation to a yacht gala with the Mayor himself. Every message delivered to Helen was met with polite silence—or worse, no response at all.
It wasn't just Helen rejecting him now.
It was Jennifer.
---
"You said you'd help," Steven growled across his desk, voice sharp as he faced her in his office. "You said we'd get her back."
Jennifer stood by the window, unbothered. Dressed immaculately in a black blazer and silk blouse, she looked more like a prosecutor than a former confidante.
"I said I'd try," she replied. "But I won't waste resources on a sinking ship. Helen isn't stupid. She sees you for what you are now—broken. She won't touch that."
Steven's fists clenched. "You were supposed to be loyal."
Jennifer arched a brow. "Loyalty ends where survival begins, Steven. I'm not here to rescue you. I backed you when you were worth backing. Now?"
She gave a slow, deliberate look.
"You've become a liability."
The door clicked shut behind her, leaving Steven alone with the storm.
---
That night, the lights in his building flickered.
He wandered the empty hallways of his penthouse, stopping at the study door Helen had once used. Her perfume no longer lingered. Her sketches were gone. Her quiet hum while reading legal briefs into the night—silenced forever.
He sank into the armchair she once claimed and buried his face in his hands.
God, Helen… you made it all work.
He saw it now—how she had spotted bad deals before they broke him. How she'd mended client relationships he'd nearly destroyed. How she'd read every clause, every financial projection, and helped him pivot time and time again.
He had mistaken her grace for something soft.
But now, he knew better.
She had been the spine of his empire. And without her, the entire structure was collapsing.
---
Somewhere across the city, Helen stood at a gala, wrapped in emerald silk and radiant under crystal chandeliers. She smiled graciously, her laughter easy, her spirit unshaken.
Men glanced. Women admired. Cameras clicked.
But she still thought of Sebastian.
She still hadn't let anyone else in.
Not because she couldn't—but because real love wasn't a performance.
It was presence. Integrity. Patience.
Steven had none of it left.
And now, only his regret remained.