Chapter 7 Derek complication

Monday mornings always had a sharpness to them, but this one cut deeper.

Elena stood in front of the mirror, adjusting the silver hoop earrings that framed her face. She wore a black pencil skirt, a deep emerald blouse tucked neatly into it, and heels that clicked with confidence. But beneath the flawless exterior, her nerves buzzed like static.

She hadn't heard from Derek since his cryptic text last week.

But she knew him.

Silence didn't mean retreat. It meant strategy.

She arrived at the Maddox Innovations tower before 8 AM - early, not because she wanted to be, but because she needed to feel some sense of control. Something normal. Something hers.

Inside, the buzz of the building had already begun: heels on marble, elevator chimes, hushed voices over sleek glass desks. The air smelled of roasted espresso and cold ambition.

She nodded politely to the receptionist and headed straight for her event planning suite. But the moment she stepped inside, Talia was already waiting - wide-eyed, a cup of coffee trembling slightly in her hand.

"Elena," she hissed, "he's here."

"Who's here?" Elena asked, placing her bag down.

"Derek Wallace. He's in the lobby."

Elena's blood ran cold.

Her mind scrambled for a reason - a business excuse, a media stunt, anything that would justify her ex showing up uninvited at her workplace. She hadn't spoken to him in nearly a year. Not since the last time he tried to ruin her.

"Did he say what he wants?"

"He said he wants five minutes. With you. Privately."

"No."

"Elena-"

"I said no."

But as she spoke, the door opened behind her.

"Elena," came the voice she hadn't heard in eleven months. "Still as sharp as ever."

She turned slowly, heart slamming against her ribs.

Derek Wallace stood in the doorway in a custom navy suit, dark blond hair slicked back, eyes still the same arrogant shade of blue that once seduced and deceived her.

"You have a lot of nerve," Elena said, voice like steel.

Derek raised his hands in mock surrender. "Relax. I'm not here to fight. Just to talk."

Talia gave Elena a look. Do you want me to call security?

Elena gave a subtle shake of her head. "Five minutes. In the stairwell. Not here."

They moved down the hallway in silence and stepped into the emergency stairwell where voices wouldn't echo and no cameras would record them. The second the door shut, she turned on him.

"What do you want?"

Derek's smile dropped. "You're planning the Maddox Gala. That's... impressive."

"Not your concern."

"It is when people are talking," he said, pulling his phone from his coat. "About you and Grayson."

She folded her arms. "That's none of your business either."

"Oh, but it is," he said with false sweetness. "You see, I still have access to certain people in press circles. And I know things that could really complicate your shiny new reputation."

Elena's hands clenched at her sides. "So this is a threat."

Derek shook his head. "It's a warning - and a business opportunity."

Her laugh was bitter. "Let me guess - you want a seat at the gala. Maybe a chance to rub shoulders with Grayson's investors, pitch them your garbage fintech startup?"

Derek's smile returned, wolfish. "Something like that."

"No," she said flatly.

"You should think about it."

"I don't need to. Get out."

He took a step closer, lowering his voice. "You really think he'll stay interested once he finds out what you kept from him? That you were once part of a major internal investigation? That you left without pressing charges because you were sleeping with your boss?"

Her eyes narrowed. "I left because you tried to drag me down with you. And I didn't press charges because I didn't want to be used as a pawn by your enemies."

Derek's expression darkened. "You were never innocent, Elena."

"And you were never a man."

She shoved past him and opened the stairwell door.

"Don't make this ugly," he called after her.

She turned, jaw clenched. "It already is."

By noon, the encounter was still crawling under her skin.

She hadn't told Grayson. Not because she didn't want to - but because she didn't want Derek to have that kind of power over her life. Again.

She needed time. Space. Strategy.

But Grayson could sense it.

That afternoon, as they reviewed table arrangements for the VIP dinner segment of the gala, he studied her with that quiet intensity she was learning to both fear and crave.

"You're not here," he said finally.

She blinked. "What?"

"Your body's in this room, but your mind is five floors down, battling something."

She exhaled slowly. "It's nothing important."

"Don't lie to me."

He said it so calmly that it didn't sound like an accusation. It sounded like a plea.

She sat back in her chair, chewing on her lower lip. "Derek came to the office today."

Grayson's face barely changed, but his eyes went dark.

"What did he want?"

"To leverage me. Threaten me. Use me."

Grayson's voice dropped. "What did he say?"

"Does it matter?" she asked. "You know the type. He's all charm on the outside, rot underneath. He thinks he still owns a piece of me."

"And does he?"

The question cut through the air like glass.

"No," she said firmly.

Grayson's jaw ticked, but he nodded. "Good."

A pause. Then-

"If he contacts you again-"

"I'll handle it."

"I want to handle it."

She raised an eyebrow. "Is that the protective boyfriend speaking, or the man who's used to controlling every threat?"

Grayson leaned forward, voice low but intense. "Elena, I'm not trying to fix you. Or control you. But I do want to protect what we're building. Because whether you admit it or not, you're part of my life now."

She inhaled sharply.

They weren't just dancing around it anymore. They were naming it. Claiming it.

Whatever this was.

"I don't want Derek near the gala," she said. "Or near me. I'll put it in writing."

"You won't have to," Grayson said. "He won't be invited."

Elena met his gaze.

"Thank you," she whispered.

They sat in silence for a moment. The weight of the truth - all of it - settling like dusk around them.

And as Grayson reached across the table and gently touched her hand, Elena felt something shift.

Not just between them - but inside her.

For the first time in a long time, she wasn't surviving someone else's manipulation.

She was standing in her truth. With someone who wanted her there.