Jake sat in the cockpit of the Audi R8, the engine idling in a low, rhythmic growl as he waited to pick up Catharine. His phone vibrated in his pocket. He pulled it out; the screen lit up with Aliya’s na.
"Hey, big shot," Aliya’s voice ca through, sounding strained, the background noise of Gaborone traffic audible on her end. "Mom’s birthday is next week. Have you even looked at the cruise itineraries I sent? We need to book the flights today if we’re going to get the whole family together."
Jake rubbed the bridge of his nose, his eyes scanning the professional crowd exiting the nearby office blocks. Between the Golden Investnts restructuring and the vultures circling the ridian Group, a ten-day diterranean cruise felt like a lifeti away.
"Scrap the cruise," Jake said firmly. "I can’t be off the grid for that long right now. Things are... moving fast."
There was a pause. "Jake, it’s Mom’s fiftieth."
"I know. That’s why we’re going to South Africa instead," Jake pivoted. "Three days—Friday, Saturday and Sunday. I’ll handle the private transport and a villa in Sandton. It’ll be five-star all the way, I promise. We’ll plan the long, exotic vacation for December when the dust settles."
"South Africa? Why there out of all places?"
"Because it would be refreshing to see sothing different, and it has the best shopping on the continent," Jake reassured her. "Tell Mom I’m making it up to her with a blank-check shopping spree while we’re there. I just have too much on my plate to disappear for two weeks right now."
Aliya sighed, though he could hear the reluctant smile in her voice. "Fine. But you’re the one explaining to her why she isn’t seeing the Amalfi Coast this month."
---
Across town, Alice pulled up to the Zenith. The security team at the front desk, usually stoic and unmoving, gave her a respectful nod as she approached. Jake had already updated the all-access list; in his world, Alice was now his most trusted lieutenant.
She took the elevator to the penthouse, the silence of the high-speed ascent matching her focus. Entering the Zenith, she headed straight for the safe in Jake’s study. She gathered the necessary incorporation docunts and the trust activation papers Samuel Carter had requested.
Once she was back in the lobby, she took a mont to pull up a contact she had received after the lunch with Samuel. It was for Marcus Sheele. Alice’s breath caught slightly as she stared at the na. She followed the news; she knew exactly who Marcus Sheele was. He was a titan, part of the inner circle that included Adrian Vale, Leon Hart, and Noah Chen. The fact that Jake Rivers—the man she had t as a bold, individual trader—was on a first-na basis with these people was starting to reshape her entire understanding of her employer.
She tapped the dial icon.
"Marcus Sheele’s office," a professional voice answered.
"This is Alice, Jake Rivers’ executive assistant. I’m calling regarding the investnt structures discussed with Samuel Carter."
"One mont."
A few seconds later, a deep, charismatic voice ca on the line. "Well, look at that. Jake finally got himself an assistant. I was starting to think he enjoyed doing his own paperwork."
Alice felt a surge of adrenaline. "Mr. Sheele, I’m calling to confirm we have the docunts in hand."
"Good, send them to my email. Tell Jake the other investnt is secured. We’ll discuss the specifics of the allocation on Friday. I’ll have my assistant email you the relevant details shortly. You’ll be communicating with her for the day-to-day from now on."
"Understood, Mr. Sheele."
As she hung up and walked to her car, Alice felt a strange sense of vertigo. She had followed a hunch when she agreed to work for Jake, but she hadn’t realized she was stepping onto a global stage. Talking to the Sheele office as an equal wasn’t just a career move; it was the best gamble she had ever made.
---
At 5:00 PM sharp, the R8 pulled up to the doors of Johnson & Associates. When Catharine stepped out and slid into the leather passenger seat, she didn’t look like the triumphant finance graduate who had challenged a senior partner the day before. She looked hollowed out.
"Tough day in the trenches?" Jake asked, pulling into the flow of traffic.
Catharine leaned her head back, closing her eyes. "You have no idea. My colleagues... they weren’t exactly subtle. By lunch, the rumor was that I’m only at this firm because I’m ’sponsored’ by a mysterious billionaire. They think I’m a trophy, Jake. They’re saying I’m sleeping my way to the top."
Jake let out a short, dry laugh, trying to steer her toward the light. "Well, can you bla them? Look at this car. They’re just jealous because they don’t have what you have."
Catharine opened her eyes, and the look she gave him was raw. "And what do I actually have, Jake? You’re already successful. You have the Zenith, the cars, the empire. I just started. I worked my tail off for that degree, and now, before I’ve even finished my first week, my reputation is being dismantled by people who haven’t even seen my work."
Jake realized then that his joke had missed the mark. The trauma from her father’s appearance the night before, combined with the toxic workplace, had pushed her to a breaking point.
"Cath, look at ," Jake said, his voice dropping the humor and becoming grounded. He reached over and took her hand. "You have a brilliant mind and a GPA that makes those analysts look like amateurs. You have , and you have the truth. Don’t let people who are stuck in the middle tier make you feel bad for reaching the first. Their opinions don’t pay your bills. Stay focused on the numbers, and let them choke on their gossip."
She squeezed his hand, a small, weary smile finally touching her lips. "I’m trying. It’s just... a lot for one day."
---
Dinner at the Zenith was ant to be a quiet recovery. Jake had prepared a simple pasta, and the tension was finally starting to dissipate. Then, his phone rang. Aliya again.
He picked it up, expecting another jab about the South Africa trip, but the sound on the other end made his blood run cold. Aliya wasn’t talking—she was sobbing. It was a ragged, breathless sound.
"Aliya? Talk to ," Jake demanded, standing up instantly.
"Jake... I... I don’t know what to do," she gasped out.
Jake didn’t ask for details. "Where are you?"
"I’m at the house. Mom and Dad’s."
Jake was already grabbing his jacket. He looked at Catharine, his expression grim. "Sothing’s wrong with Aliya. I have to go. Stay here—the Zenith is secure, the security won’t let anyone up. Don’t wait up for ."
He gave her a quick, distracted nod and disappeared.
---
The R8 tore through the streets of Gaborone, covering the distance in half the ti it usually took. When he arrived at his parents’ place, he forced himself to slow down. He didn’t want to alarm them. He greeted them warmly, masking his heart rate, and told them he was just there to see Aliya.
He walked to her door and knocked softly. "Aliya? It’s ."
"Yes," ca a muffled, broken reply.
Jake entered and locked the door behind him. Aliya was curled into a ball on her bed, still sobbing. He didn’t ask questions. He sat beside her and pulled her into a firm hug. They stayed like that for thirty minutes, the only sound the rhythmic rise and fall of her breath as her sobs slowly turned into exhausted whimpers.
Once she finally fell asleep, Jake realized his jacket was soaked through with her tears. He carefully laid her back on the bed and tucked a blanket around her. He went to his old room, grabbed a fresh jacket and a spare blanket of his own, and returned to her side.
He didn’t go back to the Zenith. He slept on the edge of her bed, a silent sentinel. He hadn’t seen her like this since she was a freshman in high school. Whatever had happened was massive.
Before closing his eyes, he sent a quick text to Catharine:
> I’m staying at my parents’ tonight. Aliya needs . Take the RS 6 or the A4 to work in the morning. Keys are in the bowl. Stay safe and stress about what other people think of you. I love you.
A few minutes later, his screen lit up with her reply:
> I hope everything is alright with her. I’ll see you tomorrow. I love you too.
As he watched the moonlight filter through the curtains of his childhood ho, Jake felt the weight of his new life pressing down. Wealth could buy a 42nd-floor office and a V10 engine, but it couldn’t protect the people he loved from the ghosts of their own lives. Not yet.
---
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