"Close your eyes," Ethan instructs as the elevator ascends to an unknown floor in a building I don't recognize.

"This is ridiculous," I protest, though I comply with his request. "I'm not five years old."


"Humor me," he says, his hand warm at the small of my back as he guides me forward when the elevator doors open. "Just a few more steps."

I hear a door open, feel a change in the air—a larger space, sunlight on my face through windows.

"Okay," Ethan says, positioning me carefully. "Open your eyes."


I blink against the sudden brightness, taking in my surroundings. We're in a stunning penthouse apartment—not as large as Ethan's, but equally luxurious, with floor-to-ceiling windows offering panoramic views of Central Park. The space is empty of furniture but beautifully finished, with hardwood floors, marble countertops, and state-of-the-art appliances.

"What is this?" I ask, turning to Ethan in confusion.


"Your office," he replies with a smile. "Or rather, Ascendant Group's new New York headquarters."

I stare at him, momentarily speechless. "I don't understand."

"You mentioned that your current office space was temporary," Ethan explains. "That you were looking for something more permanent now that the acquisition is complete. This building came on the market last week—the entire top three floors. I thought it would be perfect for Ascendant Group."

"You bought a building for my company?" I ask, still processing this unexpected development.

"Not exactly," Ethan clarifies. "I bought it as an investment property. Knight Industries will occupy the lower floors for our East Coast expansion. But the top three floors are yours if you want them—Ascendant Group's new home."

The gesture is both incredibly generous and slightly presumptuous—exactly like Ethan himself. Part of me is touched by his thoughtfulness, by his support of my professional ambitions. Another part is wary of becoming further entangled with him, of blurring the lines between our business lives as we've already begun to blur the lines in our personal relationship.

"It's beautiful," I say finally, moving to the windows to take in the view. "But this is too much, Ethan. Ascendant Group can secure its own office space."

"I know you can," he replies, coming to stand beside me. "This isn't about capability. It's about practicality. We're both busy executives with a young son. Having our offices in the same building means we can coordinate schedules more easily, share transportation, maybe even have lunch together occasionally."

Put that way, it does make practical sense. And the space is perfect—prestigious address, spectacular views, room for expansion as Ascendant Group grows.

"The lease terms would be standard market rate," Ethan continues, sensing my hesitation. "No special treatment. This is a business decision that happens to have personal benefits."

I turn to face him, studying his expression. There's no ulterior motive there, just genuine desire to make our complicated lives a little simpler, to support my career while strengthening our family unit.

"Thank you," I say finally. "It's a thoughtful gesture. I'll have my team review the details, but... yes, I think this could work well for Ascendant Group."

Ethan's smile is warm with pleasure at my acceptance. "Excellent. I thought we could celebrate with lunch on the terrace. I had something brought in."

He leads me through French doors to a spacious terrace where a table has been set for two, complete with champagne in an ice bucket and covered dishes that smell delicious.

"You were very confident I'd say yes," I observe as he holds my chair.

"Hopeful, not confident," Ethan corrects, pouring champagne for both of us. "I know better than to take your agreement for granted on anything, Olivia."

The comment, delivered with a mixture of respect and affection, catches me off guard. Ethan sees me—really sees me—as an equal partner, not just in our parenting arrangement but in our professional lives as well. It's a novel experience after years of fighting to be taken seriously in the male-dominated financial world.

"To new beginnings," Ethan toasts, raising his glass. "Professional and perhaps... personal as well."

The reference to our unresolved conversation about making our marriage "real" hangs between us as we clink glasses. I take a sip of champagne to buy time, uncertain how to respond to his continued pursuit of a genuine relationship.

"Ethan," I begin carefully. "This office space, our living arrangement, the way we're raising Leo together—it's all working well. I'm... hesitant to complicate things further."

"Because you're still not sure you can trust me," he concludes, his perception uncomfortably accurate. "Or perhaps because you're not sure you can trust yourself."

I look away, unable to hold his knowing gaze. "It's complicated."

"Life usually is," Ethan replies, echoing his words from our dinner at Le Cirque. "But sometimes the most complicated paths lead to the best destinations."

Before I can respond, my phone buzzes with an incoming call from Marcus. Given our surveillance operation on Nathaniel in Singapore, I can't ignore it.

"I'm sorry, I need to take this," I say, stepping away from the table.

"What is it?" I ask quietly, moving to the far end of the terrace.

"Nathaniel met with the private investigator again," Marcus reports. "They went to the government records office together. And Olivia... they were looking at immigration records from five years ago."

My blood runs cold. Immigration records would show when Olivia Morgan entered Singapore after fleeing New York. They're getting closer to connecting me to my former identity.

"What did they find?" I ask, fighting to keep my voice steady.

"Nothing conclusive yet," Marcus assures me. "Our contact at the records office says they were searching for entries under various names, including variations of 'Olivia' and 'Morgan.' They left with copies of several records, but we don't know exactly which ones."

"They're closing in," I murmur, more to myself than to Marcus. "We need to accelerate the plan."

"Agreed," Marcus says. "What's our next move?"

I glance back at Ethan, who waits patiently at the table, his expression curious but respectful of my privacy. What would he do if he knew the truth? If he discovered that his wife, the mother of his child, has been lying about her identity from the beginning?

"Continue monitoring Nathaniel," I instruct Marcus. "And prepare the documents for phase two of the Morgan Group acquisition. It's time to increase our stake."

After ending the call, I return to the table where Ethan waits, his expression now concerned. "Everything alright?"

"Just some issues with our Singapore office," I reply, the same excuse I used at Le Cirque. "Nothing that can't be handled."

Ethan studies me for a moment, clearly sensing there's more to the story, but doesn't press. "Well, don't let it spoil our lunch. The chef prepared your favorite—sea bass with truffle risotto."

The fact that he knows my favorite dish—a detail I mentioned only once in passing—is another small reminder of how attentive Ethan is, how genuinely he seems to care despite our unconventional beginning.

As we eat, the conversation shifts to safer topics—Leo's progress at his new school, the upcoming charity gala Vivienne has roped us into attending, plans for the weekend. Normal couple conversation, as if we were any other married pair discussing their shared life.

It's dangerously easy to forget, in these moments, that our marriage began as a business arrangement. That I came back to New York with a specific purpose that had nothing to do with finding love or building a family. That Ethan still doesn't know who I really am or what I'm really after.

"Penny for your thoughts," Ethan says, noticing my distraction. "You seem miles away."

I force a smile. "Just thinking about everything that needs to be done with the Morgan acquisition. The integration process is always the most challenging part."

"You'll handle it brilliantly," Ethan says with complete confidence. "You're the most capable executive I've ever met—man or woman."

The compliment, delivered with such genuine admiration, touches me more deeply than it should. "Thank you," I say softly. "That means a lot, coming from you."

"I only speak the truth," Ethan replies, reaching across the table to take my hand. "In business and in personal matters."

His thumb traces small circles on my palm, the simple touch sending warmth through my body. The attraction between us, simmering since our first meeting, grows stronger with each passing day, harder to ignore or dismiss as irrelevant to our arrangement.

"We should get back," I say reluctantly, withdrawing my hand. "I have meetings this afternoon."

Ethan nods, though disappointment flickers briefly in his eyes. "Of course. I'll have the lease documents sent over for your team to review."

As we ride the elevator down to street level, standing closer than strictly necessary, I find myself wondering what it would be like to simply give in—to accept Ethan's offer of a real marriage, to build a genuine life together with our son, to set aside my revenge plans and embrace this unexpected second chance.

But then I remember my mother's death, Cassandra's betrayal, my father's rejection. The injustice that has driven me for five years, that brought me back to New York with a single purpose: to reclaim what was stolen from me and make those responsible pay for their crimes.

No. I've come too far to turn back now, regardless of these inconvenient feelings for Ethan Knight. The revenge I've planned must take priority over personal happiness—at least until justice is done.

As we part ways on the street, Ethan to his office and I to mine, he leans in to kiss my cheek—a gesture that has become part of our routine, a small intimacy that bridges the gap between our public performance and private arrangement.

"Think about what I said," he murmurs close to my ear. "About making this real. We could be good together, Olivia. Really good."

The sincerity in his voice follows me into my waiting car, a temptation I can't afford to indulge. Not yet. Not until my plan is complete and the truth—whatever it may cost me—is finally revealed.