Amber woke before dawn, the faint grey light filtering through the curtains of her bedroom. Sleep had come in fragments, broken by thoughts she refused to name out loud. Alex Wilson lingered in every corner of her mind—his voice, his gaze, the way he challenged her without apology. She rose quietly, slipping into a silk robe, and moved toward the balcony. The city below was still half-asleep, unaware of the quiet war being fought inside her chest.
She told herself it was simple. Business. Strategy. Power.
But even she knew that was no longer the full truth.
Downstairs, Camila was already awake, seated in the breakfast room with a tablet in hand. She looked up the moment Amber entered, her eyes sharp with concern. "You didn't sleep," she said, not as a question but a fact.
Amber poured herself coffee. "Sleep is optional."
Camila scoffed lightly. "So is denial. Amber, this thing with Alex—it's not just tension anymore. It's starting to leak into your decisions."
Amber's jaw tightened. "I've never allowed emotions to weaken me."
"Maybe not," Camila replied calmly, "but you've also never wanted someone this badly while pretending you don't."
The words landed harder than Amber expected. She said nothing, turning away to stare out the window.
By mid-morning, Gareth Accessories was alive with urgency. A new wave of press speculation had erupted overnight—anonymous sources hinting at a deeper connection between the Gareth sisters and the Wilson Corporation. Nothing concrete. Nothing provable. But enough to stir curiosity and suspicion.
Amber stood at the head of the conference table, her presence commanding immediate silence. "We don't react emotionally," she said firmly. "We respond strategically. PR will release a neutral statement. Legal will tighten internal protocols. No leaks. No mistakes."
Her team nodded, scribbling notes.
Just as the meeting adjourned, her assistant leaned in. "Miss Amber… Mr. Wilson is here."
Amber didn't flinch. "Send him in."
Alex entered moments later, dressed impeccably as always, his expression unreadable. The room seemed to shift around him, the air growing heavier.
"You're causing trouble again," Amber said coolly.
Alex's lips curved slightly. "Funny. I was about to say the same thing about you."
They stared at each other, neither backing down.
"You shouldn't be here," Amber added.
"And yet," he replied, stepping closer, "you didn't ask me to leave."
The door closed behind them, sealing the space in silence. Alex's gaze roamed her face, slower now, more deliberate. "You're under pressure," he said quietly.
"I thrive under pressure."
"Yes," he agreed, "but this pressure is different. It's personal."
Amber exhaled sharply. "You think you understand me."
"I think," Alex said, his voice dropping, "that you're tired of pretending you don't feel this."
The space between them vanished in a heartbeat. His hand brushed her wrist—light, testing. Amber stiffened, then surprised herself by not pulling away. Her breath caught, a subtle betrayal of the control she prized so deeply.
"This is dangerous," she whispered.
Alex leaned closer, his voice barely audible. "So are you."
For a moment—just one—Amber considered it. What it would mean to stop fighting. To let herself want without calculating the cost. The thought sent heat rushing through her veins.
But control was her shield. And she lifted it once more.
She stepped back. "Not now. Not like this."
Alex studied her, then nodded slowly. "I won't push. But don't mistake restraint for retreat."
That evening, the mansion was restless. Staff moved quietly, sensing the tension hanging over their employer. Amber retreated to her room, but rest refused to come. Every nerve in her body felt alive, exposed.
Her phone buzzed.
Alex: You don't have to decide tonight. But know this—I'm not walking away.
She stared at the message for a long time before replying.
Amber: Neither am I.
She set the phone down, heart pounding.
For the first time in years, Amber Gareth wasn't certain she could control the outcome of what was coming. And beneath the fear… there was anticipation.