Alena burst out of the restroom, her heart hammering against her ribs like a trapped bird. She leaned against the cool, paneled wall of the corridor, gasping for air, trying to will her trembling legs to hold her.

The confrontation had drained every last ounce of her strength. She knew Graves. She knew his obsessive nature. He wouldn't believe her. He wouldn't give up.

As if on cue, the heavy door swung open behind her. Graves's tall frame filled the doorway, his eyes, like a hawk's, immediately locking onto her.

Panic flared in her chest. A head-on fight was impossible. She needed a way out. Her hand dove into her clutch, her fingers closing around her phone. Her mind raced.

She scrolled through her contacts, her thumb hovering over a single name: Cole. A flicker of grim determination crossed her face.

Just as Graves started walking toward her, she hit the dial button, pressed the phone to her ear, and turned her body, shielding the screen from his view.

He stopped a few feet away, his brow furrowed as he watched her.

The call connected. Alena's entire demeanor shifted. Her voice, moments ago tight with panic, melted into a warm, liquid honey.

"Hey, honey. Are you done with your work?"

The word "honey" made Graves's face darken instantly. His hands, hanging at his sides, clenched into tight fists.

"Mmm, I'm still out. A client dinner," Alena continued, a hint of a playful pout in her voice. "I'm a little tired. When can you come pick me up?"

She spoke into the phone, but her eyes were watching him, a sliver of her vision catching his thunderous expression. A cold smile touched her lips.

On the other end of the line, Cole Wiley, the mayor of New York City, paused in his office, a stack of documents in front of him. He heard the forced, theatrical quality in her voice and understood immediately.

He played along without missing a beat. "Just finished a meeting," he said, his voice calm and reassuringly magnetic, even through the phone. "Send me the address. I'll be right there."

Alena's voice became even sweeter. "Okay, I'll be waiting. Drive safe. Love you."

She made sure to raise her voice on the last two words, ensuring they carried clearly across the corridor to where Graves stood.

She ended the call and turned, a blissful, happy smile plastered on her face, as if she hadn't just noticed the man in front of her looked ready to commit murder.

"Sorry, Mr. Hammond," she said breezily. "My husband is on his way to pick me up. I should go wait for him by the entrance."

Graves's eyes bored into her, trying to see past the performance. "Your husband? Who is he?"

Alena blinked, her expression a perfect picture of innocence. "I don't see how that's any of your business. We're in the past, remember?"

She sidestepped him and walked toward the restaurant's main entrance. This time, he didn't stop her. He just stood there, his eyes following her, a complex storm of emotions swirling within them.

The moment Alena stepped outside into the cool night air, she felt the sweat on her back. She quickly texted Cole the address.

Inside, Graves watched her go. He pulled out his own phone and dialed his assistant.

"Leo, I need you to find someone," he said, his voice as cold as ice.

"Run a full background check on Alena Griffith. Everything from her five years in London. And her current marital status. I want the most detailed report you can get."

He paused, recalling the name she had used. "And one more thing. Find out if there's a prominent person in New York named Cole who is close to her."

"Yes, Mr. Hammond," Leo's respectful voice replied from the other end.

Graves hung up and stared out at the glittering New York skyline. His eyes were hard, filled with a possessive fire. He didn't believe it. He wouldn't believe that Alena could forget him and marry someone else.

He would find out who this man was.

And he would take back what was his.

Across the street, Alena stared at the reply on her phone: On my way. A wave of conflicting emotions washed over her.

She knew she had just dragged her friend into a very messy, very dangerous situation. But for the sake of her revenge, for her own protection, she had no other choice.

Alena waited by the curb for ten minutes, the wine from dinner and the adrenaline from her encounter with Graves making her head spin. She gripped a cold metal railing to steady herself, her face pale under the streetlights.

A gentle voice sounded beside her. "Alena? Are you okay? You look terrible."

She turned to see her boss, Claire Hayes, the firm's sales director. Claire was a chic woman in her forties with a perpetually kind expression.

Seeing a friendly face, Alena's tense shoulders relaxed slightly. "Claire. I'm fine, just had a bit too much to drink."

"Let me give you a ride home," Claire insisted, taking her arm. "It's not safe for you to be alone like this."

Alena was about to politely decline when a sleek black Audi A8 pulled up silently in front of them. The license plate was distinctive-a government plate.

The driver's door opened, and a man in a dark, impeccably tailored suit and rimless glasses got out. He was tall, with a quiet, scholarly air that radiated calm authority.

He walked quickly to Alena's side, smoothly taking over from Claire and pulling Alena into a supportive embrace. His voice was gentle, but held a note of chiding. "Why did you drink so much?"

Alena sagged against his solid chest, inhaling the clean, soap-like scent of his shirt. A sense of safety, however fleeting, settled over her. "Cole. You're here."

Claire looked at the man, her initial surprise melting into a knowing smile. "Ah, so this is 'him'," she teased Alena. "Now I'm not worried."

The comment made Alena's cheeks flush.

Cole nodded politely to Claire. "Thank you for looking after her, Ms. Hayes."

Not far down the street, parked in the shadows, Graves watched the entire scene unfold from the backseat of his black Bentley.

His assistant, Leo, sat in the passenger seat, having just delivered his initial findings. "Sir, we've got a preliminary ID. The man on the phone with Ms. Griffith... it's most likely the current mayor of New York City, Cole Wiley."

Graves's gaze was fixed, a laser beam cutting through the tinted glass, aimed at the man holding Alena. The mayor? She had married the goddamn mayor of New York?

A furious, bitter jealousy burned in his chest. No wonder she was so confident. She had found herself a powerful protector.

He watched as Cole opened the passenger door for Alena, his hand hovering protectively over her head to keep her from bumping it on the frame.

Alena slid into the car without protest. Before closing the door, Cole leaned in and said something that made a small smile grace his lips.

To Graves, the simple, domestic gesture was an intimate, blindingly painful sight. It was confirmation.

The Audi pulled away smoothly, disappearing into the flow of traffic.

Claire waved goodbye and got into her own car.

Graves finally tore his eyes away. The pressure inside the Bentley was suffocating.

"Keep digging," he bit out, the words forced through clenched teeth. "I want to know when they got married. Every detail. I don't want anything missed."

He couldn't accept it. The woman who had once looked at him with such unguarded love and dependence was now nestled in another man's care.

In the front seat, Leo didn't dare breathe, his fingers flying across his tablet to issue the new commands.

Graves leaned back against the leather seat and closed his eyes. The image of Alena and Cole played over and over in his mind, a hand squeezing his heart until it ached.

He had assumed she would be miserable without him, waiting for him to find her. He had never, in his wildest nightmares, imagined she would simply erase him from her life.

Meanwhile, in the Audi, the atmosphere was entirely different.

Alena leaned her head against the cool glass of the window, rubbing her temples. "Thanks, Cole. I'm sorry for dragging you into this."

Cole drove with steady hands, his eyes on the road. "You saw him, didn't you?" he asked quietly.