KEIFER — PRESENT DAY
The door closed behind her.
Not slammed.
Not rushed.
Just—closed.
Soft. Final.
And something in my chest collapsed with it.
I was on my feet before I realized I'd moved.
"Keifer—" Honey said sharply, catching my sleeve.
I shook her off.
Angelo was already moving too, jaw tight, eyes dark. We followed instinctively—out of the conference room, into the corridor she'd disappeared down.
But we didn't make it far.
Two men stepped in front of us, seamless, silent, built like walls in tailored suits. No badges. No raised voices.
Just power.
"Private floor," one of them said calmly. "You're not authorized."
"I just need to talk to her," I said, breath uneven. "Five minutes. Please."
The man didn't blink. "You've said enough."
Angelo stepped forward. "We know her."
That earned him a look—measured, cold.
"No," the man corrected. "You knew who she was. Past tense."
That word landed hard.
Past.
I tried to move around them.
Didn't work.
Hands closed around my arms—not rough, not violent—but unyielding. Calculated. Professional.
She'd built this.
Even her distance had teeth.
"Let go," I snapped, anger finally breaking through the shock. "You can't keep us from her—"
"We can," another voice cut in.
Low.
Controlled.
Burning.
Cole.
He walked toward us from the far end of the corridor from her room, steps slow, deliberate. His suit jacket was off. Sleeves rolled up. His expression—
Not business.
Not diplomacy.
War.
The men released us instantly.
Cole stopped directly in front of me.
Close enough that I could see the tension in his jaw, the way his hands flexed like he was choosing restraint instead of violence.
"You," he said quietly. "Don't move another step."
"I just want to talk to her," I said, voice hoarse. "She deserves—"
Before I could finish, his hand fisted into my collar and slammed me back against the wall.
The impact knocked the breath from my lungs.
Angelo swore and stepped forward, but Honey grabbed his arm hard, shaking her head once.
Don't.
Cole leaned in, forearm pressing against my chest, eyes blazing.
"You don't get to say what she deserves," he said, each word precise and lethal. "You forfeited that right six years ago."
"I didn't abandon her," I rasped. "I tried to protect her—"
"That's what you call it?" His grip tightened. "Because from where I'm standing, you broke her. Then watched her bleed and called it love."
The corridor felt too small.
Too bright.
Too quiet.
"I love her," I said, the truth ripping out of me before I could stop it. "I never stopped."
Cole laughed.
Once.
Sharp. Humorless.
"She cries herself sick because of you," he said flatly. "She flinches when she hears your name. She built an empire brick by brick just to make sure no one like you could ever corner her again."
My vision blurred.
"Where is she?" I whispered. "Is she okay?"
That did it.
Cole slammed me harder against the wall, face inches from mine.
"She is not you're concern," he said, voice low and dangerous. "You lost that right the day you broke her..."
Angelo stepped in then, finally losing his restraint. "Mr.Wilson—enough—"
Honey moved fast, placing herself between them, hands up. "Back up. All of you. This ends now."
Cole stared at me for a long moment.
Then he released me abruptly.
I stumbled forward, barely catching myself.
"This is the only warning you'll get," he said coldly. "You will not approach her. You will not request personal meetings. You will not exist in her space unless she explicitly allows it."
He stepped back, eyes never leaving mine.
"If you ever came near her like that again," he continued quietly, "Watson Corporation won't be your biggest problem."
Then he turned and walked away.
Just like that.
Gone.
The corridor felt hollow after.
I slid down the wall slowly, chest heaving, hands shaking.
Angelo stood there, silent, guilt etched into every line of his face.
Honey crouched in front of me, her sarcasm gone entirely.
"…She loved you," she said softly. "Didn't she?"
I nodded.
The motion felt like a wound reopening.
"I lost her," I whispered. "And I don't even get to grieve her out loud."
Angelo swallowed hard. "Keifer… she's alive."
I laughed weakly. "No. The girl I knew is gone."
All that remained—
Was a queen who had learned how to survive without me.
And I was the ghost she refused to acknowledge.
As we were escorted out of the building—past marble floors, past glass walls, past a world she ruled now—I looked up once.
At the top floor.
Her floor.
And for the first time in six years, I understood something unbearable.
Jay hadn't disappeared.
She had escaped.
And I was standing on the wrong side of the door.
The car door slammed shut.
I didn't wait.
"Drive," I said.
The driver didn't ask where.
The car surged forward anyway, tires screeching against polished stone as MJ Industries disappeared behind tinted glass.
Angelo's voice echoed faintly from the curb—my name, sharp, worried—but it was gone within seconds. Honey too. Both left standing in the wake of something already lost.
The city blurred past.
Red lights. Steel. Glass. People who didn't matter.
My hands shook violently where they rested on my knees.
I pressed them together.
Didn't help.
"Faster," I said hoarsely.
The driver glanced at me once in the rearview mirror—then obeyed.
The hotel loomed into view far too soon.
Luxury. Cold. Temporary.
Just like everything else in my life.
I didn't speak as I stepped out. Didn't wait for doors. Didn't acknowledge the staff bowing, recognizing the name, the face, the money.
I was already breaking.
The elevator ride was unbearable.
Mirrored walls reflected a man I barely recognized—eyes red-rimmed, jaw clenched so hard it trembled, shoulders rigid like holding myself together took physical effort.
The doors opened.
Suite.
Silence.
I crossed the room in long, uneven strides and locked the door behind me.
The sound echoed.
Final.
That was it.
My knees gave out.
I didn't fall gracefully.
I collapsed.
Hard.
The carpet burned my palms as I caught myself, breath shattering in my chest like glass.
"No," I whispered, shaking my head. "No—no—no—"
I dragged myself to the bedroom, hands clumsy, vision swimming.
The bedside table.
The drawer.
I yanked it open.
There it was.
Her.
A photograph worn soft at the edges from six years of touch.
Jay—eighteen. Laughing. Head thrown back slightly, eyes half-closed in that way she used to when she forgot the world existed. Sunlight caught in her hair. Unguarded. Alive.
Mine.
I pressed the photo to my chest like it could stitch something back together.
A sound tore out of me then.
Not a sob.
Something worse.
Raw. Broken. Animal.
"I'm sorry," I choked, curling inward on the bed. "I'm so fucking sorry."
I clutched the photo tighter, forehead pressed to it like prayer.
"You looked at me like I was nothing," I whispered. "Like I never loved you. Like I didn't burn myself alive trying to keep you safe."
My chest convulsed.
Tears soaked into the pillow beneath me, hot and relentless.
"I should've chosen you," I said, voice cracking completely now. "I should've run with you. I should've burned the world down first."
The room felt too big.
Too empty.
Too quiet.
I needed something—anything—to drown the sound of my own regret.
I stumbled back to my feet and crossed to the minibar, movements uncoordinated, desperate.
Bottle.
Whiskey.
Didn't bother with a glass.
The first burn was brutal.
Good.
I welcomed it.
The second went down easier.
By the third, my hands had stopped shaking—but my thoughts hadn't.
They got louder.
Her eyes. Her voice. The way she said my name like it meant home.
I slid down against the wall, bottle clutched loosely in my hand, her photograph pressed to my chest.
"I waited for you," I slurred. "I looked everywhere. Every city. Every shadow. I never stopped—"
Another drink.
"I killed my father," I whispered, laughing weakly. "Did you know that? For them. For Keigan. For Keiren. I became everything he was afraid of."
The walls seemed to tilt.
"But I couldn't protect you," I murmured, eyes fluttering. "That's the one thing I failed."
The bottle slipped from my hand and hit the floor with a dull thud.
Didn't shatter.
Just rolled.
I didn't care.
I curled onto my side, photo clutched in both hands now, like if I let go she'd disappear completely.
"I saw you today," I whispered. "And you didn't need me anymore."
My voice broke into quiet, wrecked laughter.
"That's how I know you won."
My eyelids grew heavy.
My thoughts tangled.
The last thing I remembered was pressing my lips to the photo, forehead resting against it, salt and whiskey mixing on my tongue.
"I can't loose you Jay, not again" I breathed.
Darkness swallowed the room.
Keifer Watson— the man who owned empires, who survived monsters, who became one—
Passed out on a hotel floor,
Drunk on regret,
Clutching the only thing he never truly deserved.