Vincent's eyes flicked wildly between the rooftop edge and the flashing blue lights below. His lips curled into a snarl, no longer charming, no longer confident—only feral.
"You think this is over?" he hissed.
Lucien remained rooted to the spot, a calm shadow amidst chaos. His earpiece crackled with Camille's voice: "Officers have secured the ground floor. He has no way out."
Vincent's gaze darted to the fire escape, the stairwell door, the ledge—calculating. But he was a man whose empire had been built on secrets, not escapes.
"You're cornered," Lucien said simply. "Surrender."
Vincent laughed—sharp, brittle, and manic. "You don't get it, do you? Even if I go down, you still lose. Because you'll never trust her again."
Lucien's jaw flexed, but he didn't rise to the provocation. Vincent was trying to drag him into the dirt. He wouldn't let him.
Just then, the stairwell burst open. SWAT officers in tactical gear surged forward, weapons trained. Vincent flinched.
"Hands in the air!" barked one officer.
Vincent hesitated—then turned to Lucien one last time. "She lied to you. Just wait. You'll see."
Lucien didn't answer. He watched, stone-faced, as the officers moved in and cuffed him. Vincent resisted, but only half-heartedly, like he already knew the game was lost.
As they dragged him away, Vincent shouted, "I'll be out before the sun rises! You hear me, Blake?! This isn't the end!"
But Lucien knew better.
It was the beginning of the end.
Back at the Blake estate, Elena stood in the control room, watching the live feed go black. Her hands trembled slightly around the cup of tea Camille had given her.
Camille looked up. "He's in custody."
Elena's breath hitched. "Lucien? Is he alright?"
Darius answered from the other screen. "Unharmed. He'll be back soon."
She pressed her hand to her chest, struggling to slow the frantic thrum of her heart. Her mind kept replaying Vincent's face. His voice. His threats. The way his eyes never really blinked when he looked at her—like he didn't see a person. Just possession.
Camille gently touched her shoulder. "It's over, Elena."
But Elena knew it wasn't. Not really.
Because she could still feel Vincent's words clawing at the edges of her mind: He'll never trust you again.
When Lucien returned hours later, the sky was beginning to pale. The estate was quiet, cloaked in shadows. He found Elena asleep in the library, curled up in an armchair with a blanket over her shoulders.
He didn't wake her.
Instead, he stood there for a long moment, watching the soft rise and fall of her chest. Her face, usually guarded, was peaceful in sleep. And he realized, not for the first time, how much she had endured—and how much he had taken for granted.
He sat beside her, careful not to wake her, and leaned his head back, exhaustion creeping into his bones.
But she stirred anyway.
"Lucien?" Her voice was groggy, soft.
"I didn't mean to wake you," he said.
She sat up, rubbing her eyes. "You're safe."
He gave her a tired smile. "So are you."
They sat in silence for a moment, the air heavy with unspoken things.
Then Elena spoke. "What happens now?"
Lucien hesitated. "We start cleaning up the mess."
She looked down at her hands. "And… us?"
His breath caught.
"Elena—"
"You don't have to say anything," she said quickly. "I just—Vincent said something. Before he was taken. That you'd never trust me again."
Lucien leaned forward. "Don't."
She blinked. "What?"
"Don't let his poison stay in your head. He tried to manipulate everyone, including me. And I let him get too close—too many times. That's on me, not you."
"But I was naive," she whispered. "I thought I could survive him by staying quiet. I didn't tell you everything. I didn't fight harder."
"You were surviving," Lucien said. "You did what you had to do. And because of you, he's in a cell right now. Don't forget that."
Her eyes filled with tears, but she blinked them away.
Lucien gently took her hand.
"I trust you," he said. "And I'm sorry for not saying that sooner."
Her breath hitched. The weight of those words settled over her like a balm, soothing the raw edges of her heart.
Then he added, "We're not perfect, Elena. We've both made mistakes. But I'm not letting go of this. Not now."
She nodded slowly, the smallest smile tugging at her lips. "Then let's fight for it."
Three days later, the headlines exploded.
Billionaire Vincent Arcland Arrested in Corporate Espionage Scandal.
Insider Leaks Tie Vincent Arcland to Blake Industries Security Breach.
Elena Blake: The Wife Who Turned the Tables.
Elena stared at the news articles on her phone with a strange sense of detachment. Her face was plastered across every headline—photos from her wedding, from public appearances, even some candid shots from charity events.
But it was the last headline that made her pause.
The Wife Who Turned the Tables.
She wasn't sure how to feel about it.
"Looks like the world finally knows you're not someone to mess with," Camille said from across the room.
Elena smiled faintly. "It doesn't feel like victory. Just… survival."
Camille leaned against the kitchen counter. "Sometimes survival is victory."
Elena glanced toward the hallway. "Lucien's been in meetings all day. With the board. With the media team."
Camille's eyes softened. "He's protecting the company and you at the same time. That man's spinning plates on fire right now."
"I want to help," Elena said. "Not just be the woman in the headlines."
Camille smirked. "Then come with me. I have something to show you."
An hour later, Camille led her to a part of the estate Elena hadn't explored before. A sleek office, minimalist and modern, with a giant whiteboard wall filled with data maps and digital projections.
"This," Camille said proudly, "is the intelligence division Lucien's been building quietly. The real reason Blake Industries stayed one step ahead of Vincent."
Elena blinked. "This is like a secret ops room."
"It is," Camille said. "Lucien created it after the first breach attempt, when Vincent tried to leak false reports to investors."
Elena walked slowly around the room. "Why are you showing me this?"
"Because he trusts you," Camille replied. "And so do I."
Elena paused. "You want me to help?"
"I want you in," Camille said simply. "Your background in legal documentation, your ability to spot inconsistencies, the way you handled the Vincent setup... You're wasted in the shadows."
Elena stared at the wall. For the first time, she saw the full scope of what Lucien had been protecting. It wasn't just money or reputation—it was people, data, futures.
"I'll do it," she said quietly. "If Lucien agrees."
"He already has," Camille said with a wink.
That night, Lucien returned home to find Elena waiting for him in his office.
She held a folder.
He raised a brow. "What's this?"
"My formal request," she said with a grin. "To be part of your black-ops empire."
Lucien laughed—long and real. "Is that so?"
She walked up to him. "No more sidelines. I want to be in the room where it happens."
He pulled her into his arms. "Then welcome to the fire, Mrs. Blake."
She leaned up, kissed him, and whispered, "Let's rebuild—together."
And for the first time in a long time, it felt like they weren't surviving anymore.
They were beginning.