KEIFER'S POV — THE BALCONY
The rain starts like London always does.
Quiet. Deceptive. Then it soaks straight through bone.
I don't remember walking her out here. Only the sound of the balcony doors closing behind us—soft, final—cutting off the orchestra, the murmurs, the lies.
She's standing near the railing.
Black gown. Bare shoulders. The slit revealing just enough thigh to be deliberate.
She doesn't look at me.
That's worse than anger.
"What are you doing here," I say, low, sharp. Not a question. A fracture.
She turns slowly, like she's deciding whether I deserve her face.
"Business," she replies. Calm. Cold. Controlled. "You should try it sometime."
The rain slicks her hair back, makes her skin glow under the balcony lights. God. She looks untouchable. Like something I ruined and the universe decided to sharpen instead of break.
"You shouldn't be anywhere near this family," I snap. "You shouldn't be near me."
Her lips curve. Not a smile. A warning.
"I run JJM," she says. "Your family's money touches mine. That's all."
JJM.
The word hits me harder than any accusation.
"You—" I stop. Recalibrate. "That's why you're here?"
"Yes."
I step closer. Too close.
"This—" I gesture wildly, the mansion behind us, the rain, the weight of my name choking the air. "This is exactly why I pushed you away."
Her eyes finally crack.
"So you could protect me?" she asks softly. "How noble."
"So you figured it Miss.CEO of the rising JJM, Jay You don't understand what they do," I hiss. "What they take. What they destroy."
She laughs.
A low, broken sound that slices through me.
"I was born in blood, Keifer," she says. "You didn't protect me. You just chose when to hurt me."
My chest tightens.
"Leave," I say. "Tonight. Now."
She steps into my space.
Close enough that I can smell her perfume—danger, smoke, something sharp and expensive.
"I don't follow anyone's order Keifer, There is nit a single man on this planet who can make me kneel to there terms,"
She then whispered real slow her breath in my ear...
"Happy birthday, Mr. Watson," she whispers.
"May you rot in hell."
Something in me snaps.
I grab her wrist.
Hard.
She gasps—not in fear, but shock—and that's enough to send me spiraling.
I cage her against the glass, one arm braced beside her head, rain streaking down behind her like the world is bleeding.
"Don't," she says.
Her voice shakes.
God help me, that makes it worse.
"Don't what," I growl. "Feel? Remember? Pretend you don't still own every nerve in my body?"
"You broke me," she says, eyes blazing now. "You don't get to touch me."
I lean in.
Close enough that my lips almost brush her ear.
"And yet here you are."
She shoves me.
Hard.
I stumble back a step.
That's when she leaves.
Just turns. Walks. Doesn't run.
The doors close behind her.
And for the first time tonight—
I feel like the one who's bleeding.
---
JAY'S POV — THE FLOOR
I don't look back.
If I do, I'll burn this place to the ground.
The ballroom swallows me—gold light, silk dresses, diamonds flashing like weapons. The music has slowed. Something orchestral. Romantic. Cruel.
Damian finds me instantly.
"You okay?" he murmurs.
I slide my arm through his.
"Perfect."
It's a lie. A beautiful one.
We step onto the dance floor.
His hand settles at my waist. Respectful. Controlled. Safe.
Too safe.
I tilt my head, letting the chandelier light hit my throat, my shoulders, the curve of my mouth.
I know he's watching.
I feel Keifer before I see him.
He's dancing with Ion.
She's stunning. Poised. Elegant. Her hand rests on his shoulder like she belongs there.
She knows.
She knows exactly who I am.
Our eyes meet over Damian's shoulder.
The tension is violent.
Damian leans closer, lips brushing my ear. "If this is a war, I should warn you—I fight dirty."
I smirk.
"Then hold me closer."
He does.
His hand slides lower on my back. My fingers curl into his jacket. We move in sync, deliberate, slow, devastating.
Keifer's jaw tightens.
Ion notices.
She says something to him. Soft. Intimate.
He doesn't hear her.
He's staring at me like I'm a sin he never confessed.
Good.
Damian spins me effortlessly, pulls me back into his chest.
"You're enjoying this," he murmurs.
"Immensely."
Keifer flinches when Damian's lips graze my temple.
Ion stiffens.
The music swells.
More couples join. The floor fills. The air grows heavy with jealousy and champagne and regret.
This is power.
Not rage.
Not revenge.
Control.
When the song ends, I step back.
Applause ripples.
I don't wait for the next track.
I release Damian's hand.
"I'm leaving."
He searches my face. "You sure?"
I nod.
"I've seen enough."
---
THE EXIT
I don't say goodbye.
Not to the Watsons. Not to Ion. Not to Keifer.
I walk past him.
Close enough that our sleeves brush.
He inhales sharply.
I don't stop.
Outside, the rain has turned brutal. Cleansing. Violent. Honest.
The car door opens.
I slide in.
As London pulls away, the mansion shrinking in the rearview mirror, my pulse finally slows.
I didn't cry.
I didn't beg.
I didn't break.
I showed him exactly what he lost.
And that—
That will haunt him far longer than love ever could.
KEIFER'S POV — AFTER THE MUSIC DIES
The party doesn't end with applause.
It ends with exhaustion.
With silence creeping back into halls that were never meant to feel empty, only owned.
The last guests leave. The staff melts into the walls. Crystal glasses are cleared. Flowers wilt under heat they weren't meant to survive.
And then—
It's done.
Watson Enterprises is mine.
The papers are signed in a private study that smells like old leather and older ghosts. Nobody congratulate me except uncle Kier and my brothers.
I don't answer.
Because all I can hear—
Is her heels on marble.
All I can see—
Is black fabric clinging to her like it was afraid to let go.
The moment the doors close, the weight crashes down.
I loosen my tie. It feels like a noose.
I walk.
Room to room. Corridor to corridor. This house is massive, and yet it has never felt smaller. Every wall reminds me of something I survived. Every corner echoes with nights I wanted to run.
I fought for this.
God, I fought.
Years of swallowing rage. Of taking hits meant for my brother. Of standing between my mother and a man who thought cruelty was inheritance. Of becoming colder, sharper, quieter—because that's how you survive monsters.
And every night through all of it being here away from her—
I missed her.
Not softly.
Violently.
I missed the way she challenged me without raising her voice. The way she could dismantle a room just by standing still. The way she never begged for space—she took it.
Tonight, she walked into my world like she owned it.
And I lost my sanity one second at a time.
Her dress—
Black. Off-shoulder. The slit so intentional it felt like provocation. Like she knew exactly how my mind would unravel with every step she took.
I saw the way men looked at her.
And I hated every single one of them.
When she danced with him—Damian—my vision went red. His hand on her waist. Her fingers gripping his jacket. The ease. The closeness.
She let him touch her.
That realization clawed into my chest like betrayal layered over grief.
I tell myself it shouldn't matter.
I'm engaged.
Bullshit. It's broken , she left.
But through all of this I felt only one thing...
Jay's absence.
Her presence was worse.
When she looked at me on the balcony—cold, furious, unafraid—I knew something then.
I didn't save her.
I sharpened her.
I reach my office and slam the door shut.
The sound echoes.
I brace my hands on the desk, head dropping forward, breath coming uneven.
Every second of tonight replays in brutal clarity—
Her nod. Her restraint. The way she walked past me without flinching.
That was the part that broke me.
Not anger.
Not revenge.
Indifference forged from pain I gave her.
I sink into the chair behind the desk that now belongs to me.
Watson Enterprises.
A throne built from blood, fear, and obedience.
And I have never felt more hollow.
I wanted power to protect her.
I wanted distance to keep her alive.
Instead—
She came back stronger. Colder. Untouchable.
And she didn't need me.
That truth burns worse than jealousy.
Outside, London rains like it's trying to wash the city clean.
I stare at the glass until my reflection blurs.
I won everything tonight.
The company. The title. The future my family carved into stone.
And I lost the only person who ever saw me as something other than a weapon.
Jay walked out of my life the way she walks out of rooms—
Without hesitation. Without permission. Without looking back.
And I know this now, with terrifying clarity:
No empire. No inheritance. No sacrifice—
Will ever quiet the sound of her leaving...
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
Hey Readersss...
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