Chapter 3 The past never sleeps

The sun had barely crested over the rooftops of Brooklyn when Elena's phone buzzed on her nightstand. She reached for it groggily, expecting an email or one of the usual pre-event messages. But when she saw the name - Derek Wallace - every muscle in her body tensed.

It was like being yanked backward in time.

Derek, her ex-boss, ex-boyfriend, and ex–source of stability turned chaos, hadn't contacted her since she walked out of his office after exposing the financial fraud he'd tried to bury. He hadn't apologized. He hadn't even tried to deny it. He just watched her leave, as if she were disposable.

And now, after almost a year of silence, he was texting her?

"Heard you're working with Maddox now. That's bold. We need to talk. Soon."

Her chest tightened. The words felt like a threat wrapped in politeness. How did he know? Was he watching her? Or worse - was he trying to scare her off this job?

She shoved the phone face-down and tried to focus on her notes for the gala, but her hands wouldn't stop trembling. She hadn't told Grayson about Derek - about her past, the reason she was blacklisted from three major PR firms, or the hush money she never took.

And maybe that was the problem. Secrets had a way of sneaking into the light.

When she arrived at the Maddox Innovations office later that day, she was sharper than usual, more put-together - a wall of lipstick and composure. But the moment she stepped into the planning conference room, she felt his eyes on her.

Grayson leaned against the window frame, arms folded, watching her like a man who saw everything and said nothing.

"You're early," she said, trying to sound light.

"You're pale," he replied evenly.

She let out a humorless laugh. "You're observant."

"I have to be," he said. "In my world, distractions get you killed."

The room went quiet.

He tilted his head. "Something happened?"

For a second, she considered lying. But something about his voice - the unexpected gentleness of it - made her hesitate.

"Someone from my past reached out," she said, tucking a loose curl behind her ear. "A man I'd rather never speak to again."

Grayson's jaw ticked. He didn't ask for names.

"Is he a threat?"

"I don't know," she whispered.

He nodded once. "If he is, you'll let me know."

It wasn't a question. It was a vow.

She wanted to thank him. But the words stuck in her throat. So instead, she simply looked up at him, grateful for his silence - and scared of what it was starting to mean