BENEATH EMPIRE

She felt it in every polished marble step, every forced smile, every glance that skimmed past her like she was invisible-or worse, beneath notice.

The Blackwell Foundation Charity Gala was exactly what she had expected: a playground for the elite to toss money at causes just flashy enough to post about, and just safe enough to ignore afterward. Her nonprofit, Hart to Heart, had been "invited" for optics-one of a few grassroots organizations brought in like accessories to validate billionaires in ballgowns and thousand-dollar suits.

She hated it.

Still, Layla stood tall in her deep green satin dress, her curls pinned loosely over one shoulder. She clutched a glass of sparkling water like it was a lifeline, scanning the crowd of manicured wealth and careful artifice.

And then, she saw him.

Across the ballroom, lit by golden chandeliers and shadowed corners, stood Adrian Blackwell.

He was impossible to ignore.

Tall, sharp-suited, and stiller than anyone else in the room, Adrian carried the kind of presence that demanded attention without ever asking for it. His gaze moved like it cut through people-and when it landed on her, her breath caught.

Their eyes locked.

Just for a moment.

He looked... surprised. Curious.

Layla blinked, unsure if she was seeing things, but he kept his gaze locked on her. Not even when a blonde socialite, standing tall and trying to get his attention, came over.

She felt it in every polished marble step, every forced smile, every glance that skimmed past her like she was invisible-or worse, beneath notice.

The Blackwell Foundation Charity Gala was exactly what she had expected: a playground for the

And then he did somethinghe felt it in every polished marble step, every forced smile, every glance that skimmed past her like she was

"Adrian," a voice clipped through the air-his father, Elliot Blackwell, approaching with that air of polished menace. "Your presence is needed with the board. Now."

"Adrian gritted his teeth but gave a quick nod. I'll be there in a minute." Elliot looked over at Layla, his expression icy.Cold. Calculating.

"And who's this?"

Before Layla could answer, Adrian spoke.

"Someone who doesn't need your approval."

That earned a stiff pause. Elliot's smile never touched his eyes. "Charming."

He walked away.

Layla let out a breath. "Wow. That was... intense."

Adrian watched his father retreat. "That was polite. You should see him when he's trying."

"You always defy him in public like that?" she asked.

"Not usually," he said. "You must be a bad influence."

She laughed despite herself, and Adrian's expression softened.

I'm Adrian, he said, his voice barely above a whisper, like the moment had just hit him.

I know who you are, she replied, matching his tone. Then she smiled and said, I'm Layla.

Layla Hart."

The name seemed to hit him like a slap-just for a second

He raised his eyebrows, and everything about him froze for a moment.

What was your last name?

Layla blinked.

"Hart."

He opened his mouth. Closed it.

A beat of silence.

Then, he smiled-charming, dangerous, unreadable. "Nice to meet you, Layla Hart."

But something had shifted.And deep down, Layla knew-something had just begun unraveling.

Layla narrowed her eyes, catching the slight hesitation in his tone when he repeated her name. "Is there something wrong with Hart?"

Adrian's expression flickered-so quickly she might have missed it if she hadn't been watching. "No," he said smoothly. "Just... familiar. There's a Hart who used to work in high-stakes finance, I think. The name rings a bell."

She forced a smile. "Maybe. It's not exactly an uncommon name."

But her stomach twisted. She hated this-tiptoeing through conversations, never knowing when her past might catch up to her present. Her father's legacy was a shadow she had spent most of her life running from. One careless whisper and people would connect the dots. She couldn't let Adrian-or anyone in this world-know who her father really was.

Not yet.

Adrian, for his part, didn't press. But there was a new stillness in him, as if he'd cataloged her answer and was filing it away for later.

"Hey," he said, decreasing his voice, "I'm not the best with... people. But if you're up for pretending this event isn't terrible, I'd pick you over anyone else here."

Layla lifted an eyebrow and smiled a bit. "Is that you trying to ask me to stay?"

"Something like that."

She glanced toward the door. Then back at him. Damn it.

"Alright, Adrian Blackwell. Surprise me."

He motioned toward the edge of the ballroom. "There's a balcony through here. Less noise. Better air."

Layla hesitated only a second before following.

The city lights blinked below them like stars spilled across concrete.The balcony felt really nice and calm, with cheerful laughter and the applaud of glasses coming from inside. Layla enjoyed the peaceful breeze on her skin and let out a happy sigh. Adrian stood next to her, hands in his pockets, just wet through in the view. After a bit, he said, "To be honest, I wasn't really up for being out tonight."

She looked over at him."Then why are you?"

"My father. Optics. Family duty. All the usual chains."

Layla turned to face him fully. "And are you as trapped as you sound?"

His smile was faint and a bit melancholy. "Sometimes I feel like I was born in a cage with soft walls." That wasn't what she thought he would say.Not from a man like him.

She didn't speak for a moment. Then: "I know a thing or two about cages. Though mine didn't come with a view."

Adrian looked at her, really looked this time. "You're different."

"Is that your best line?" Layla looked at him, her heart beats faster. She wasn't sure what to say. A part of her wanted to just come out and be honest. About her name. Her father. Why she never should've come tonight.

Her wild side didn't want this moment to wrap up. "I'm thinking," she said, taking her time, "maybe I should just walk away from all this." "So why not?" he replied. "Because," she whispered, "I have this feeling you'd come after me." He didn't argue with that.

And that scared her more than anything.

Because she wasn't sure who'd get hurt if he did.

Adria

He couldn't sleep.

Adrian was propped up against the large window in his apartment, watching the city lights down. It was almost 2 AM, but his thoughts weren't on the view outside-they were on her.

Layla Hart.

There was something about her that unnerved him. It wasn't just her beauty, though God knew that alone had stopped him in his tracks. It was the fire behind her smile, the way she didn't flinch when he looked at her like the rest of the room had. She hadn't needed him to be impressed with her. She hadn't needed him at all.

Which, of course, made him want her more.

But it was her name that clung to him now like smoke in his lungs. Hart.

He hadn't heard that name in years. Not since the scandal that nearly ruined the Blackwell family's grip on the East Coast market. Thomas Hart-a once-promising executive-had been blackballed from the industry, labeled a traitor after insider trading allegations.

And now Layla Hart shows up at our gala...

Coincidence?

He didn't believe in those.

Adrian rubbed a hand down his face, trying to will away the unease gnawing at him. He wanted to believe her presence tonight was innocent. That she wasn't playing a game. But he'd spent his entire life watching people lie with elegance-and he'd become a master at reading between the lines.

Still, when she'd looked at him, there hadn't been calculation. There'd been something real. Vulnerability, maybe. Curiosity. And the way she'd said she should walk away... like she knew she should, but hoped he wouldn't let her.

Why the hell do I care?

Because she was the first person in years who made him feel like Adrian, not Blackwell.

And that made her dangerous.

His phone buzzed on the marble nightstand. One message. Blocked number.

He opened it, frowning.

> "Be careful who you get close to. The sins of the father never stay buried."

Adrian's stomach turned to ice.

No signature. No context.

But somehow... he knew.

This wasn't over.

It was just beginning.