---- Chapter 21 Chapter 21 Aimee Ramirez POV: The year that followed was one of careful, deliberate construction. Anderson and | didn't fall into a whirlwind romance; we forged an alliance. Our days were spent in our respective boardrooms, dismantling Kyle's reckless acquisitions and streamlining our now-allied companies into a single, formidable tech juggernaut. Our nights were spent at my penthouse, poring over blueprints for our future, both corporate and personal He was my partner in a way Kyle had never been. He didn't just admire my strength; he complemented it. Where | was a creature of cold logic and aggressive strategy, he was a master of diplomacy and quiet, unshakeable resolve. We were two sides of the same sovereign coin. One evening, after a grueling fourteen-hour workday, we were sitting on my balcony, a comfortable silence between us as we watched the city lights ignite below. "I'm selling the penthouse," | said, breaking the quiet. Anderson looked at me, a question in his eyes. "Too many ghosts?" "Not anymore," | said, surprised to find it was true. "It's just... ---- an office. A fortress. | don't want to live in a fortress anymore. | want a home." He smiled, a slow, warm curve of his lips. "| know a place. Upstate. Lots of land. Terrible cell reception. You'd hate it." "It sounds perfect," | said. We were leaving a gala a week later, stepping out into the crisp autumn air, when it happened. A black town car, its headlights off, screeched around the corner, jumping the curb and barreling directly toward us. Anderson's reaction was instantaneous. He threw his body into mine, shoving me backward against the stone wall of the building an instant before the car swiped past, its side mirror shattering against the wall where my head had been. The car sped off into the night without slowing. It was over in a heartbeat. | was left gasping, my heart hammering against my ribs, the solid weight of Anderson's body shielding me. "Are you okay?" he asked, his voice a low growl, his eyes scanning the street, no longer the calm CEO but something harder, more dangerous. "I'm fine," | said, my voice shaking. "Probably just a drunk driver." But we both knew it wasn't. It was too precise. Too deliberate. Later that night, as | was trying to sleep, my phone chimed ---- with a security alert from my office. A breach on the executive floor. | pulled up the security feed on my tablet. The office was empty, but the camera angle was slightly off. Someone had been there. Someone who knew how to bypass the first two levels of security. | felt a familiar, icy dread coiling in my stomach. | showed the footage to Anderson. "It's him," | whispered, the words tasting like poison. "Kyle. He's back." Anderson watched the footage, his jaw tight. "No," he said, his voice firm. "This isn't his style. This is sloppy. Angry. Kyle was a strategist. This is something else." He made a call, his voice low and urgent, speaking to someone in a language | didn't recognize. When he hung up, he looked at me, his eyes dark with a gravity | had never seen before. "My security team is on their way. They'll be with you 24/7," he said. It wasn't a suggestion. "Whoever this is, they've made a mistake. They think you're still the woman he left behind. They have no idea who they're dealing with." He was right. But as | lay in bed, listening to the unfamiliar sounds of a security detail sweeping my impenetrable fortress, | felt the old, cold armor begin to re-form around my heart. | had thought the war was over. But it seemed one of the ghosts from my past had refused to be buried.