–KATHLEEN
The rooftop was a battlefield disguised as a party.
Kathleen stood near the railing, the wind teasing loose strands of hair from her updo. Below, Veloria pulsed with light—neon signs, glowing towers, the endless dance of money and power. She sipped her champagne, the bubbles sharp on her tongue, and watched Carl Harris from the corner of her eye.
He was holding court near the bar, surrounded by men who leaned in too close, laughed too loud. Every so often, his gaze flickered to her, dark and unreadable.
Ava's voice crackled in her earpiece. *"You're staring."*
Kathleen turned slightly, pretending to adjust her earring. *"I'm strategizing."*
*"Uh-huh. While he looks at you like a man who wants to eat you alive."*
She ignored that. *"Did you find anything on Triton?"*
Ava's typing echoed through the earpiece. *"Not yet. But no VC firm worth billions has a website that vague. I'm digging deeper."*
Kathleen exhaled. *"Good. Keep me—"*
A warm hand settled on the small of her back.
Carl.
She didn't startle. Just turned, slow and deliberate, until they were face-to-face. His fingers lingered, burning through the silk of her dress.
"You look like you're plotting something," he murmured.
She arched a brow. "Maybe I am."
His lips curved. "Tell me."
"Where's the fun in that?"
The music swelled—something sultry, all bass and temptation. Around them, the party blurred into a haze of clinking glasses and murmured deals. But here, in this pocket of space, it was just the two of them.
Carl's thumb traced a slow circle against her spine. "Dance with me."
It wasn't a question.
Kathleen should've said no. Should've walked away, back to Ava and her investigation and the safety of suspicion.
Instead, she let him lead her to the center of the rooftop.
---
CARL
Carl had never been a man who hesitated.
Yet as Kathleen swayed against him, her body a perfect counterbalance to his, he found himself gripping her waist a little too tightly. Like she might slip away if he didn't hold on.
Bad sign.
She tilted her head, studying him. "You're quiet."
"I'm enjoying the view."
Her lips quirked. "The city *is* beautiful."
"I wasn't talking about the city."
A flush crept up her neck. He wanted to chase it with his tongue.
Instead, he spun her, pulling her back against his chest. Her breath hitched as his mouth brushed her ear. "Tell me something real, Kathleen."
She stilled. "Like what?"
"Why SafeHaven?"
For a second, he thought she'd shut him out. Then her voice dropped, soft and raw. "Because no one should have to feel powerless."
Carl's chest tightened. He knew her file—knew about the foster homes, the years of instability. But hearing it in her voice was different.
Dangerous.
His grip loosened. "Kathleen—"
A sharp laugh cut through the moment. Hansen Leroy, flanked by two investors, clapped Carl on the shoulder. "There you are. We've been looking everywhere."
Kathleen stepped back, her expression shuttering.
Hansen's gaze darted between them. "Oh. Am I interrupting?"
Carl's jaw clenched. "Yes."
Hansen blinked. The investors shifted awkwardly.
Kathleen's eyes narrowed. "You know each other."
Not a question.
Hansen recovered first. "Carl and I go way back. Small world, right?"
Too smooth. Too practiced.
Carl watched the pieces click in Kathleen's mind—Hansen's Rolex, the way the investors deferred to him, the way *Carl* didn't bother with introductions.
Because everyone in this city knew who Carl Harris was.
Everyone but her.
Her face went cold. "You're Harris."
The music faded into white noise.
Carl reached for her. "Kathleen—"
She sidestepped his touch. "Triton Ventures. That was you."
No point lying now. "Yes."
Her laugh was brittle. "And here I thought you were just a guy who liked champagne and bad pickup lines."
She turned on her heel and walked away.
Hansen whistled low. "Well. That could've gone better."
Carl didn't answer. He was already moving, cutting through the crowd after her.
---
AVA
Ava Lopez was many things—loyal, brilliant, and currently *pissed*.
She slammed her laptop shut as Kathleen stormed into their hotel suite. "Okay, *what* happened?"
Kathleen kicked off her heels. "Carl Harris is the CEO of Harris Consolidated."
Ava's stomach dropped. "*The* Carl Harris? As in, 'ruthless tech baron who eats startups for breakfast' Carl Harris?"
"The same."
"And Triton—"
"Is a shell company. His shell company." Kathleen paced, her dress swishing with every sharp turn. "He's been playing me this whole time."
Ava's fingers flew across her keyboard. "Not if I can help it."
New search: **HARRIS CONSOLIDATED + TRITON VENTURES + TAKEOVERS**
The screen filled with lawsuits, mergers, whispers of hostile buyouts. Ava's pulse raced. "Kathleen. Look at this."
She turned the laptop.
Kathleen's face drained of color.
There, in black and white: a list of companies Harris had acquired under fake names. All of them bled dry within a year.
Ava swallowed. "We need to go public with SafeHaven's IPO *now*. Before he can sink his teeth in."
Kathleen stared at the city skyline, her reflection fractured in the glass. "No."
"*No?*"
"I want to know *why*." She turned, eyes blazing. "Why me? Why the games? Why—"
Her phone buzzed. A text from an unknown number:
**You want answers? Meet me. 10 AM. The Andros rooftop.**
No signature.
None needed.
Ava grabbed her arm. "You are *not* going."
Kathleen pocketed the phone. "Watch me."