CHAPTER 13 — The Man Waiting Outside
The lobby doors of Kane International were made of reinforced glass—clear enough to see the world outside, but thick enough to drown the sound of it. Yet, in that moment, the entire building felt silent.
Rafael stood on the other side of the glass, hands in his pockets, posture relaxed—casual, even—but the look in his eyes was anything but calm.
He was waiting.
Waiting, not for the company.
Not for the security team gathering nervously by the door.
He was waiting for her.
Aria.
Her breath didn't tremble. Her pulse didn't spike. Not like it did years ago. Not like the girl who used to kneel when his shadow stretched across a room.
No.
That girl was dead, because Aria had killed her.
But Rafael… Rafael looked at her as if she was still that girl.
Adrian remained beside her, expression unreadable. He didn't reach for her. Didn't hold her back. Didn't step in front of her.
Because Adrian knew something Rafael did not:
Aria did not need protecting from Rafael.
Not anymore.
"Do you want me to handle this," Adrian asked quietly, "or do you want to face him yourself?"
Aria let the quiet hang.
Her eyes stayed on Rafael—his slight smirk, the tilt of his head, the way he seemed to enjoy watching the storm inside her.
"This is my ghost," she said. "I face him."
Adrian nodded.
No argument.
No doubt.
That trust alone could have broken her.
But she didn't break.
She stepped forward.
The security team moved aside immediately—by order, by fear, by instinct.
The glass doors slid open with a soft hiss.
Cold air rushed in.
And Rafael's expression shifted—not surprise, but satisfaction.
"Aria," he greeted, his voice smooth as silk pulled over a blade. "You look well."
She stood three steps away from him. No closer.
"Rafael," she replied. "What do you want?"
He smiled at that.
"Direct. Good. You used to speak like you were apologizing simply for breathing."
He was testing her. Probing. Looking for cracks.
Aria didn't flinch.
"You leaked the stock rumor," she said.
"Oh, Aria." Rafael's eyes crinkled, almost fond. "I didn't leak anything. I whispered. The world is just very eager to listen to my voice."
There it was—the arrogance.
The power.
The control he believed he still had.
Aria almost laughed.
"You think this is about money," she said.
"No," Rafael answered, calm. "This is about reminding you where you come from."
Adrian stepped out behind her then—not touching her, simply present.
Rafael's eyes flicked to him, and the smile widened.
"So this is the man you chose."
Aria corrected him.
"This is the man I stayed with. I chose myself."
The words hung between them.
Rafael's eyes darkened—not with anger.
With interest.
He stepped closer.
Aria didn't move.
"You've changed," he said softly, voice lowering. "But change doesn't erase foundation. I know what you're made of. I know the darkness in you. I built it."
Aria's voice was ice.
"You broke me. I rebuilt myself."
For the first time, Rafael's expression flickered.
Barely.
But Aria saw it.
"Saying such things in front of him—" Rafael gestured at Adrian carelessly, "—must make you feel strong."
Aria inhaled slowly.
"Strength isn't what I feel," she said. "Just clarity."
Rafael leaned in—not touching her, simply invading space the way only someone who once owned it knew how.
"I don't want you back," he whispered.
Aria froze.
Rafael smiled.
"I want you to remember me."
Those words landed heavier than any threat.
Because it meant this wasn't possession.
It was obsession.
He didn't want her body.
He wanted her mind.
Her silence.
Her reactions.
Her fear.
Anything she gave him—even hate—would feed him.
So Aria gave him nothing.
Not even a blink.
"You already lost," she said quietly.
Rafael tilted his head. "How?"
Aria turned—not to walk away, but to let him see her next words hit.
"Because I don't dream in your voice anymore."
Rafael stilled.
Stillness more terrifying than anger.
"You learned to speak beautifully," he murmured. "But you will break again. And when you do—"
His eyes lifted to Adrian.
"I will enjoy watching him try to hold you together."
Aria didn't respond.
Because Rafael wanted a reaction.
Instead, Adrian stepped forward for the first time.
His voice was quiet.
Calm.
Deadly.
"You think you're the first monster she's known," he said. "But you're just another shadow in a hallway she already walked through."
Rafael's expression didn't change.
But something cold tightened in the air.
They weren't just two powerful men.
They were two predators who recognized something in the other:
The willingness to burn the world for the woman between them.
Rafael's smile returned—slow, sharp.
"I look forward," Rafael said softly, "to seeing which of you she ruins first."
He walked away.
Not defeated.
Not retreating.
Simply beginning.
Aria's hands were steady.
Her breathing even.
But when Rafael disappeared into the street crowd—
Her knees nearly buckled.
Adrian caught her arm—not holding, just grounding.
"Don't speak," she whispered, voice raw.
"I won't," he replied.
So they stood there.
Not as lovers.
Not yet.
Not as enemies.
Not anymore.
Just two people facing a war with the same silent fear:
Love was not the risk.
Survival was.