The elevator ride back down to street level was quiet.
No cameras. No witnesses. Just soft brass walls, Lucas's reflection, and the hum of gravity pulling them toward a city that never blinked.
Julius was on his phone, flipping through texts like they were playing cards. He didn't speak, just glanced up once, nodded slightly, then went back to triaging interest like a battlefield medic in a PR war.
Lucas leaned against the railing, loosened his collar.
Then—
ATHENA's voice cut in, clear and low.
"Hidden protocol unlocked. Priority tag: Phaethon. Shall I brief you?"
Lucas blinked. "Now?"
"Now. Triggered by proximity match and keyword trace. Frances used her name."
Lucas straightened.
"What name?"
"Zhen."
He froze.
"Zhen as in—?"
"Zhen as in Xinyi Zhen."
He turned his head slowly, eyes narrowing. "…You're kidding."
"She is in the building. Private meeting on sub-level two. Five minutes ago she requested an access trace on your AI."
Julius glanced up. "You okay?"
Lucas didn't answer immediately. He was already replaying every magazine cover he'd ever seen with her on it.
Xinyi Zhen.
Heiress to the Zhen Financial Dynasty—old money that made new money feel like a high school trust fund. She wasn't just rich. She was banker rich. Board-seats-on-nations rich. And unlike most public heiresses, she kept a low profile—except when she didn't.
Tall. Sharp. Always dressed like she came from a photoshoot she'd directed. More powerful at twenty-five than most men were at fifty.
Lucas had watched her on a panel last year, talking trade war fallout while wearing a backless black dress that had broken the internet in three languages.
She wasn't a socialite.
She was an institution.
And if she'd asked about ATHENA… she knew something.
He didn't realize he'd said her name aloud until Julius swore under his breath.
"Wait—Xinyi? Zhen Xinyi? What the hell is she doing here?"
ATHENA answered for them.
"She was one of Cyrus's off-ledger advisors. Rare, high-discretion consults. He tagged her as a 'variable asset,' useful in political or restructuring emergencies. She has access to three restricted systems I am now authorized to open—upon your verbal command."
Lucas leaned back, eyes narrowing.
"Why didn't he tell me?"
"Because she insisted she was not to be contacted until a specific chain of conditions had been met. Tonight's sequence qualified."
Lucas exhaled slowly.
And then the elevator doors opened.
Street-level.
Night wind. Headlights. Noise.
But just ahead—framed by the glass entryway to the neighboring tower—she stood there.
Xinyi Zhen.
A vision in obsidian silk, arms folded, phone to her ear, expression unreadable.
And when she saw Lucas, she didn't wave.
She didn't smile.
She just ended the call, lowered her sunglasses, and said—
"I was wondering how long it would take you to find me."
Lucas's pulse kicked once, low and sharp.
Xinyi Zhen stood framed in the lobby's edge-light—sleek in obsidian silk, no jewelry except a heavy onyx ring and a watch more expensive than a car. Her lips were bare, but her presence was painted in steel.
He couldn't look away.
Not from the subtle slit up her thigh. Not from the precise line of her collarbone. And definitely not from the way her eyes skimmed over him—like she already owned the outcome.
"You're hard to miss," he said.
"You'd be surprised," she replied, brushing a loose strand of hair behind one ear. "Men usually see my title first. Not me."
"I see both," Lucas said, stepping forward.
ATHENA pinged once."Heart rate elevated. Observation: Subject Zhen is statistically dangerous to long-term decision-making."
He ignored it.
"I didn't know you were this close to him," he added.
Xinyi tilted her head slightly. "Cyrus? I wasn't. Not in the way people think. But I was part of his foundation."
Lucas gave her a look.
She nodded. "He was my godfather. My father was his mentor—his first real boss, back before the suits and tech and silent shares. We used to have dinners, the three of us. Then just the two of us. Then… just him."
Lucas took in her words, then her face—no pain, no grief. Just clean memory wrapped in heat.
"I had a crush on him," she said plainly. "From ten to eighteen. The obsessive, hopeless kind. He humored it, kindly. Then he married that woman."
Her mouth twisted.
"Frances Luo," she said like the name was poison. "If she were drowning in a puddle, I wouldn't even use my heel."
Lucas raised an eyebrow. "That's a pretty specific image."
"She plays dirty," Xinyi said. "Always has. It made him smaller. I hated watching it."
Lucas studied her. "And now you want to help me… out of sentiment?"
Xinyi stepped closer, her gaze slipping briefly to his mouth.
"I'm offering you free backing. My team, my media shell companies, my cybersecurity head if you need her."
He didn't flinch. "That's a lot of trust."
"It's not trust," she said, voice silk over razor. "It's strategy. And a little vengeance. I couldn't save him. But I can ruin her."
He smiled faintly. "I should warn you, I don't play slow."
Xinyi's hand brushed his arm—light, electric.
"Good," she said, voice barely a whisper. "Because I don't sleep with men who hesitate."
Lucas laughed—low, rough, and unbothered.
Then he stepped into her space.
Not rushed. Not cocky. Just precise.
His fingers grazed the side of her neck, slow, and Xinyi didn't move. Her eyes narrowed slightly—not resistance, just anticipation sharpened to a needlepoint.
"I don't hesitate," he said.
Then he kissed her.
Decisive. Hungry. Two storm systems colliding.
Xinyi's breath caught against his mouth before her hands found his collar and pulled him closer.
The silk of her dress caught under his palm, heat rising between them like they'd waited longer than either would admit. Her lips parted for him, her teeth grazed his, and her body aligned perfectly against his chest—measured curves, practiced tension.
And for a moment—one long, feral moment—they stopped pretending to negotiate.
They just wanted.
She made a low sound in her throat, fingers tightening slightly in his hair, and Lucas kissed her again, deeper. No games. Just ignition.
When they finally pulled apart, both were breathing like they'd run a sprint and won.
Xinyi smiled first—flushed, slow, dangerous.
Lucas leaned in once more, his mouth close to her ear.
"I'll schedule dinner," he murmured. "But I've got a few things to handle first."
She tilted her head, not letting go. "How long are you going to make me wait?"
He stepped back just enough for air.
"Not long. But long enough to make it worth it."
Xinyi smirked, adjusting her neckline with lazy precision.
"Smart man," she said. "Don't keep me bored. I get dangerous."
Lucas turned, walking toward the curb without looking back.
ATHENA pinged softly in his ear."That decision increased global curiosity metrics by 38% and blood pressure by 17. Please confirm if that was strategic or recreational."
"Both," he muttered. "And neither of us is done."
Turn to the parking lot. He barely had time to adjust his collar before Julius appeared from behind a black SUV, coffee in one hand, tablet in the other, already talking.
"Good. Because your schedule's stacked."
Lucas gave him a look. "You stalking me now?"
"I'm managing the legend," Julius replied coolly, handing him the tablet. "Tomorrow you've got two heavy hitters before lunch. First—basketball team branding strategy session. Ideally it should have been today but life. Topics cover creative direction, apparel deals, tone of voice. We're making you the product now, not just the investor."
Lucas nodded, already scrolling.
Julius continued, "Second—board liaison briefing for that tech startup your dad helped seed. The one Cyrus had thirty percent of? Yeah, they want face time with the heir. Their CTO's nervous, the CFO's ambitious. I'd wear black and smile like you're their future."
Lucas smirked. "Anything lighter than that on my life schedule?"
"Today? Media prep with Rhea and me," Julius said. "Two hours from now. It'll be brutal. But quick."
Lucas stopped. "Two hours? It's already late."
"That's why I planned something soft first," Julius said with a grin. "You're going to Mila Quon's penthouse for a party."
Lucas blinked.
"She invited me?"
"She insisted. She sent the location, had the chef confirm the menu herself, and asked what wine you preferred."
Lucas frowned slightly. "That feels loaded."
"That's why I brought flowers," Julius said, motioning toward the back seat. "And a bottle of red older than your last relationship. Don't worry—it's all in the car. You just have to walk in and act like you're the mystery they're lucky to unwrap."
Lucas glanced at the door, then back at the skyline.
"Remind me again who I'm actually working for?"
Julius smirked. "Legacy, brand equity, and a thousand gossip blogs. In that order."
Lucas exhaled once.
"Fine. Mila first. Then Rhea can yell at me."
Julius opened the door for him. "That's the spirit. Now go be the myth."
Julius didn't miss a beat. He grinned, pushed open the car door, and nodded toward the backseat.
"You're the boss, Lucas. But that doesn't mean you get to ignore the script."
Lucas raised an eyebrow. "Didn't realize I was starring in a play."
Julius followed him into the car, voice even as the driver pulled away.
"You are. You're just the only one who doesn't get to forget the spotlight's real."
Lucas leaned back as the city lights blurred past his window.