Chapter 4

The silence of her apartment was a heavy blanket. Ava sat on her sofa, the city lights a blur through the panoramic windows. It had been three days since the crane incident. Three days of an endless barrage of bad news, legal battles, and crisis meetings. She was exhausted down to her bones. The crimson dress was a distant memory, replaced by a simple gray sweatshirt and leggings. Here, in the quiet of her home, she didn't have to be strong.

This apartment, once a shared space filled with Liam's quiet presence, now felt vast and empty. She remembered him making breakfast in the kitchen, his low hum mixing with the sound of the coffee machine. She remembered them sketching out ideas on napkins at the dining table late into the night. Now, every corner held a ghost. The loneliness was a physical ache, a hollow space in her chest that rivaled the fury she felt towards him.

She closed her eyes, leaning her head back against the cushions. She felt utterly alone, a general commanding a besieged army with no allies in sight. Was this how it ended? With Zenith Designs dismantled and her reputation in ruins?

Her personal phone, a number only a handful of people had, suddenly vibrated on the coffee table. An unknown number. She ignored it. It rang again. Annoyed, she picked it up, ready to dismiss a persistent telemarketer.

"Hello?" she answered, her voice tired.

"Ava."

The voice was low, strained, and instantly recognizable. Her entire body went rigid. It was Liam.

A torrent of emotion surged through her: rage, disbelief, pain. "How dare you call me," she hissed into the phone.

"I don't have much time," he said, his words rushed. There was a faint sound of static, as if he were on a cheap burner phone. "You're in more danger than you think. The crane wasn't an accident."

"No kidding, Liam," she shot back, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "Did your conscience finally decide to make an appearance?"

"This goes deeper than you know. It's not just my... it's not just the Sterling Group. There's someone else. Someone inside Zenith."

Ava fell silent. Someone inside Zenith? Besides him? It couldn't be. She trusted her senior team. "I don't believe you. This is another one of your games, another lie."

"It's not a game," he insisted, his voice raw with urgency. "They're just getting started. They want to crush you, Ava. Completely. I can help you. I can give you the proof you need."

She laughed, a harsh, broken sound. "Help me? You? The man who put the knife in my back now wants to offer me a bandage? Why should I trust a single word that comes out of your mouth?"

"You shouldn't," he admitted, and the honesty of it caught her off guard. "But you don't have a choice. They have you cornered. I'm your only way out. Meet me."

Her mind was a whirlwind of suspicion and a desperate, tiny spark of hope. Was this a trap? A final, cruel twist of the knife? Or was he, for some insane reason, telling the truth? Her logical brain screamed at her to hang up, to block the number and trust her own team. But her instincts, the same instincts that had made her a top architect, told her something was different in his tone. It was desperation. He sounded hunted.

"Why, Liam?" she asked, the anger giving way to a weary confusion. "Why would you help me now?"

There was a pause. "Because I never wanted this to happen." His voice was barely a whisper. "Meet me. Parking garage, level four, corner of Elm and Sixth. One hour. Come alone."

The line went dead.

Ava stared at her phone, her heart pounding. It was an insane risk. He could be leading her into an ambush. The Sterling Group could be waiting. But what was her alternative? Wait for the next "accident"? Watch her company crumble under the weight of lawsuits and sabotage? He was right about one thing. She was cornered.

She stood up, her decision made. She would go. But she wouldn't go unprepared. She changed into dark jeans and a black jacket, her mind already working, planning. She slipped a small, high-frequency personal alarm into her pocket. She sent a coded text to her head of security, a retired cop she trusted implicitly. 'Meeting a source. Location P4-Elm/Sixth. 60 min. Radio silence. Track my phone. Intervene on my signal only.'

As she walked out of her apartment and into the cool night air, she felt a strange mix of fear and resolve. She was walking into the dark to meet the man who had destroyed her trust. But maybe, just maybe, he was also the only one who could give her the weapon she needed to fight back.

The parking garage was dimly lit and eerily quiet. The air was cool and smelled of concrete and exhaust fumes. Each sound-the drip of water from an overhead pipe, the distant hum of traffic-seemed amplified.

Ava parked her car in a spot where she had a clear view of the corner Liam had specified, keeping the engine running. Her hand rested on the gearshift, ready to throw the car into reverse and speed away at the first sign of trouble.

Minutes ticked by, each one stretching into an eternity. She scanned every shadow, every approaching headlight. Finally, a figure emerged from the stairwell door, stepping into the weak fluorescent light.

It was Liam. He looked rough. He wore a simple dark hoodie, the hood pulled up, casting his face in shadow. He was thinner than she remembered, and his movements were furtive, his eyes constantly scanning the empty garage. He walked towards the designated corner, away from her car, and waited.

He was alone.

Taking a deep breath, she turned off the engine, grabbed her keys, and got out of the car. The sound of her boots on the concrete seemed to echo through the structure. He turned as she approached, his hands shoved deep into his pockets.

"You came," he said, his voice low.

"Don't sound so surprised," Ava replied, stopping a good ten feet away from him. "What is this about, Liam? And it better be good."

"I told you," he said, taking a half-step forward before stopping himself. "There's a mole. Someone on your board. He's been feeding my father information for months. He's the one who suggested the sabotage."

Ava's blood ran cold. A board member? She thought of the faces in the conference room-the panic, the accusations. One of them had been faking it. One of them was a conspirator. "Who?"

"I can't just tell you," he said, shaking his head. "My father is... careful. If he finds out I'm talking to you, he'll destroy me. And he'll know exactly who to suspect if you suddenly target the right person."

"So what is this?" she demanded, her frustration mounting. "You bring me to a dark parking garage to give me riddles?"

"No," he said, his eyes finally meeting hers. In the dim light, she could see the exhaustion and conflict etched on his face. "I'm giving you a chance to find him yourself. I'm giving you the proof. But you have to be smart about how you use it. You can't let them know it came from me."

He was telling the truth. She felt it in her gut. The way he spoke, the fear in his eyes-it wasn't an act. He was genuinely afraid. And he was trying to help her. The realization was disorienting, sending another shockwave through her already battered emotions.