Chapter 3 Some truths are too heavy to carry alone.

The city sparkled below them, a thousand lights blinking like scattered stars against the night sky. From the penthouse balcony, the world felt distant - a shimmering mirage, far removed from the weight of reality.

Elena leaned against the cool railing, the satin of her gown brushing softly against the marble floor. The night air was crisp, carrying the faint scent of rain that lingered from the afternoon downpour.

She closed her eyes, breathing it in. For the first time in hours, she was alone.

Or so she thought.

"I didn't expect you to hold your own tonight," Alexander's voice broke the quiet, low and even, though it carried a note of something unfamiliar.

Elena didn't turn. "Neither did I."

A soft sound - not quite a laugh, more like a hum of reluctant approval - came from behind her. She heard the soft click of a lighter, then the scent of expensive cigar smoke drifted into the air.

"You weren't what I anticipated," he admitted.

Elena finally glanced over her shoulder, catching the flicker of flame illuminating his face for a moment. His tie was loose now, his jacket discarded somewhere inside. Without the armor of his flawless image, he looked... almost human.

"Is that your polite way of saying I didn't embarrass you?"

He arched a brow, a hint of dry humor in his gaze. "You exceeded expectations. It's a rare thing in my world."

Silence stretched between them, not uncomfortable, but weighted. The kind that settled into the bones and said what words couldn't.

Elena sighed, her fingers tracing the edge of her clutch. "I don't belong here."

Alexander exhaled a thin stream of smoke, watching it curl into the night. "Neither did I, once."

That surprised her. For a man who carried himself like he owned every room he entered, the admission felt like a crack in carefully constructed armor.

"I find that hard to believe," she murmured.

He smiled then - a real one this time, small and fleeting, but unmistakably genuine.

"My father was a factory worker," Alexander said quietly. "My mother cleaned houses. I built this world because I refused to be at the mercy of it."

Elena studied him in the dim light. For the first time, she saw more than the ruthless billionaire. She saw the boy who'd clawed his way to the top because no one else was coming to save him.

And maybe, just maybe... that was something they had in common.

"I get it," she said softly. "When you're fighting for people you love, you'll trade pieces of yourself just to keep them safe."

Alexander's eyes met hers, something raw and unguarded flickering there. Then, just as quickly, the moment passed.

"I don't mix sentiment with business, Elena," he reminded her, his voice firm, but not cruel. "Remember that."

"I wasn't offering sentiment," she replied, a quiet steel in her words. "Just understanding."

A long, unreadable pause. And then, in a voice so soft she almost missed it, Alexander spoke.

"Be careful with that. In this world, understanding is a dangerous thing."

Before she could answer, he stubbed out the cigar, straightened his tie, and turned back toward the penthouse, his presence leaving a chill in the air.

Elena remained by the railing, staring out at the endless horizon.

Lord, she whispered silently, give me the wisdom to know what to hold onto... and what to let go.

The night stretched on, and somewhere beneath the glittering city lights, two lonely hearts carried secrets too heavy to name.