Chapter 2: Collateral Damage

I was at the office, the familiar scent of polished wood and freshly brewed coffee lingering in the air as the board meeting and quarterly reviews were about to start. The conference room buzzed with quiet murmurs, tension woven into every conversation. All the executives were present—investors, department heads—each one watching me closely, their curiosity barely concealed.

Rain was seated at the far end of the table, poised and composed. As the head of finance and business operations, she was set to present the financial report for the past three months. Her eyes flicked to me briefly, filled with an unspoken concern.

I adjusted my blazer and stepped into the room, my expression impassive. Before I could take my seat, Mr. Langley, one of the senior board members, approached me with an apologetic look.

"Khai, it's good that you're back," he said in a solemn tone. "I'm sorry for your loss—Lucan was a great man—"

I cut him off sharply, my voice cold and clipped.

"Thanks, Mr. Langley. I appreciate your condolences, but don't we have a meeting to start?"

Without waiting for a response, I turned my back on him and walked straight to my seat at the head of the boardroom table. My heels clicked against the floor, punctuating the tense silence.

Mr. Robertson, one of our longest-standing investors, approached next, his voice laced with concern.

"Khai, how are you holding up—"

"Jane," I interrupted, not bothering to look at him, "begin the presentation now."

The room fell silent, and I could feel the weight of their stares. Rain's gaze lingered on me longer than the others, her brow slightly furrowed. She had always been good at reading me, and I knew she could sense the storm brewing beneath my detached exterior.

As the presentation began, I focused on the numbers flashing across the screen, my fingers gripping the edge of the table. Every word, every graph felt distant, like white noise against the hurricane of thoughts in my mind.

Lucan was gone. Letty was still out there. And Frederick Whitmore was moving pieces behind the scenes.

There was no time for grief.

No room for weakness.

But as Rain spoke, her voice steady and confident, I couldn't help but steal a glance at her. In that moment, I envied her composure—the way she carried the weight of responsibility with grace, while I was barely holding myself together.

I clenched my jaw and refocused.

This wasn't about feelings.

It was about survival.

As the meeting wrapped up, the tension in the boardroom slowly dissolved. One by one, the executives and investors filed out, their murmurs fading into the hallway beyond. Eventually, only Jane, Rain, and I remained.

Rain leaned against the edge of the table, her warm eyes searching mine.

"Babe—let's get lunch together," she said softly, a hopeful lilt in her voice.

I barely looked up from my laptop, my fingers flying across the keyboard.

"Jane," I said instead, my tone all business. "What's my schedule for today?"

Jane, ever efficient, checked her tablet. "You're packed for today. You have lunch with your grandfather."

I heard Rain exhale, and when I glanced up, she offered me a tired, weary chuckle.

"Another time, I guess," she murmured, disappointment barely masked in her voice.

She turned away, her heels clicking softly against the marble floor as she walked out of the boardroom.

I watched her go, the door closing behind her with a quiet finality that gnawed at my chest.

Then, like an unwelcome ghost, Poppa's voice echoed in my head.

"You need to leave Toni's daughter."

I closed my laptop with a sharp snap, leaning back in my chair. Doing this to Rain—pushing her away, forcing her to drift further from me—was like a slow knife to my heart. I hated it. But I knew I had no choice.

She had already been caught in the crossfire once.

I couldn't let her get dragged into this war again.

And yet, as much as I tried to convince myself that letting her go was the right thing to do, the thought of losing her—of watching her slip away piece by piece—was more painful than any enemy I'd ever faced.

Jane cleared her throat, bringing me back to reality.

"Should I confirm your lunch with Mr. Stanton?" she asked.

I exhaled slowly, forcing the weight of my emotions into a tight, controlled space.

"Yeah. Let him know I'll be there."

Because if there was one thing I knew for certain, it was that the war was far from over. And in wars like these, love was always the first casualty.

°°°

The dining room of the Stanton Estate was as grand as ever—polished mahogany, towering windows that overlooked the sprawling gardens, and an air of old money that seemed to suffocate me more than usual today.

Poppa sat across from me, his presence as commanding as ever, dressed in one of his tailored suits, not a hair out of place. A silver platter of fresh cherry tomatoes sat between us, their vibrant red a stark contrast to the dull ache in my chest.

"Khai, try these cherry tomatoes," he said, his voice calm but laced with expectation. "They were freshly picked."

I stared at my plate, appetite nonexistent. The weight of everything—Rain, Letty, Frederick Whitmore—sat heavily on my shoulders, leaving no room for something as simple as a meal.

Poppa's keen eyes didn't miss a thing. He leaned back in his chair, swirling the wine in his glass before taking a slow sip.

"Have you thought about what I told you last time?" he asked, his voice smooth but pointed. "About Rain"

I tightened my grip on the fork, forcing my expression to remain neutral.

"I have," I replied, my tone even.

"And?" he pressed, raising an eyebrow.

I exhaled, staring at the untouched food in front of me. "I don't want her involved in this. She's been through enough already."

Poppa chuckled, the sound low and knowing. "You say that like you have a choice, Khalia."

I lifted my gaze to meet his, steeling myself against the calculated amusement in his eyes.

"Everything comes with a cost, darling," he continued. "Your enemies will find their way to those closest to you, whether you want them to or not. The longer you keep her around, the more danger she's in."

I swallowed the lump in my throat, unwilling to admit that his words echoed my own fears.

Poppa leaned forward, his voice dropping to something colder, sharper. "You think you're protecting her by keeping her in your life? No, Khai. You're painting a target on her back. The only way to keep her safe is to let her go."

I clenched my jaw, every muscle in my body coiled tight.

"And what if I can't?" I asked quietly, almost to myself.

He sighed, shaking his head with the kind of patience that felt more like pity.

"Then prepare to lose more than just a lover, my dear," he said, gesturing to the untouched plate in front of me. "Because in this game, love is a weakness you can't afford."

"I've put her through hell, Poppa," I said, my voice strained, the weight of my own guilt pressing down on me. "And leaving her like that... I can't imagine what it would do to her."

Poppa let out a quiet sigh, setting his fork aside with deliberate care. His sharp eyes met mine, calculating yet laced with something deeper—something I couldn't quite place.

"Khalia," he said, his voice low but firm, "in war, the first lesson you must learn is that weakness is a luxury only the dead can afford. Soldiers who hesitate, who hold on to things they cannot protect, are the first to fall. And when they fall... they take others with them."

He leaned back in his chair, fingers tapping lightly against the polished table.

"You're at war, whether you like it or not. And love—" he paused, his gaze cutting through me, "love is the most dangerous kind of weakness. It clouds judgment, it creates vulnerabilities, and it gives your enemies leverage."

I swallowed hard, my mind flashing back to Rain's face this morning—the way she looked at me with concern, the unspoken questions in her eyes.

"I know," I murmured, staring down at my plate.

"Do you?" Poppa asked, his tone almost taunting. "Because from where I'm sitting, you're still trying to fight with one hand holding onto her."

I didn't respond.

He sighed, reaching for his glass of wine. "You can't serve two masters, Khai. Either you protect her by walking away, or you stay... and risk her life with every move you make."

I clenched my fists beneath the table, the truth of his words stinging more than I wanted to admit.

Poppa studied me for a moment before speaking again, his voice softer this time.

"You can't imagine leaving her, I understand," he said, swirling the dark liquid in his glass. "But imagine losing her because you didn't."

His words hit like a punch to the gut. I looked away, staring out the window at the vast estate grounds, feeling the walls closing in.

Deep down, I already knew the answer. I just wasn't ready to face it.

•••

The day had dragged on like a crushing wave, relentless and unforgiving, but I pushed through. Somehow, I always did.

By the time I arrived at the penthouse, exhaustion clung to me like a second skin. The comforting scent of garlic and herbs filled the air, leading me to the kitchen where Rain stood, stirring something in a pot.

The sight of her—soft, radiant, and wholly unaware of the darkness I carried—brought a small sense of relief. Without a word, I walked straight to her, wrapping my arms around her waist and pressing a long, lingering kiss to her temple. Her warmth seeped into me, grounding me in ways I didn't deserve.

She smiled, leaning into me. "How's your day, baby?"

I pulled away just enough to grab a wine glass from the cellar, pouring myself a generous amount of red. "It was productive," I replied, taking a slow sip.

Rain chuckled, setting a plate in front of me. "Productive good or productive bad?" she teased, her eyes watching me closely. Then, as if sensing my weariness, she added softly, "Regardless, you're home now. Enough of that."

I reached out to take my food, but in my distraction, my hand grazed the wine glass, sending it toppling to the floor.

The sharp, shattering sound pierced the air.

Rain's reaction was instant.

She gasped, stumbling back against the counter, her body going rigid, eyes wide with panic. Her hands trembled as if the shards of glass on the floor mirrored something much worse in her mind.

"Rain," I called, stepping toward her, but she didn't respond. Her chest rose and fell in rapid, shallow breaths, and I realized with a sinking feeling that she wasn't here with me anymore.

She was back in that dark place.

"Rain," I said again, gently this time, reaching out to touch her arm.

She flinched, eyes darting to mine, and in that split second, I saw it—the pain, the fear, the memory of a night we both wished never happened.

"I—I'm fine," she whispered, forcing a shaky breath. She crouched down quickly, starting to gather the shattered pieces with trembling hands. "It's just a glass, Khai."

But it wasn't.

I knelt beside her, gently taking her hands in mine to stop her. "Hey," I murmured, "it's okay. I'll take care of it."

She swallowed hard, blinking rapidly to push back the tears threatening to spill. "I thought I was over it," she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper.

I cupped her face, forcing her to look at me. "You don't have to be over it," I said firmly. "You just have to let me be here for you."

Rain exhaled shakily, leaning into my touch for just a moment before pulling away with a small, tired smile. "You always are."

I nodded, but deep down, guilt twisted inside me.

Because as much as I wanted to protect her from the past, I knew I was the reason it still haunted her.

•••

We settled on the couch in the living room, the warmth of Rain's body pressed against mine. It was cozy, peaceful even—a fleeting moment I wished could stretch on forever. No noise. No threats. Just us.

For once, I allowed myself to imagine a life where we weren't constantly looking over our shoulders, where we weren't haunted by the past. But that illusion shattered when Rain's phone buzzed relentlessly on the coffee table, cutting through the fragile silence.

She sighed, reaching for it. "Hello?" she answered, her voice light with sarcasm. "You really called at the best time possible—what's up?"

I watched as her expression shifted, the color draining from her face as she listened to whatever Therese was saying on the other end.

"What?—we'll be there."

She hung up quickly, turning to me with urgency in her eyes.

"What happened?" I asked, already on edge.

Rain stood up, grabbing her jacket. "We need to get to the apartment. Now."

No further explanation. No hesitation.

I didn't ask any more questions. I just grabbed my keys and followed her out the door, a familiar weight settling in my chest. Whatever was waiting for us at that apartment—it wasn't good. And I had a sinking feeling that our moment of peace had just run out.

---At the apartment

The apartment was in complete disarray—furniture overturned, drawers pulled out, shattered glass scattered across the floor. It looked like a storm had ripped through every corner. The smell of fear and adrenaline lingered in the air.

Kroft sat slumped on the floor, his face bloodied and bruised, while a paramedic crouched beside him, tending to his wounds. Rain gasped at the sight, rushing to his side, her hands hovering anxiously over his shoulder.

"What happened?" I demanded, turning to the nearest police officer. My voice was sharp, barely concealing the anger bubbling beneath the surface. "We're family—what the hell happened here?"

Before the officer could answer, Kroft let out a ragged breath and spoke, his voice weak but steady.

"I was in my room, playing games," he said, wincing as the paramedic pressed a gauze to his temple. "Then... they came. Armed men. They kicked the door open like it was nothing."

My jaw clenched.

"They dragged me in here," Kroft continued, his eyes darting toward the mess around him. "They kept asking... if I knew something about a black book." He swallowed hard, the memory of their threats weighing heavily on him. "I told them I didn't know anything, but they didn't believe me."

I exchanged a tense glance with Rain, whose face had gone pale.

Kroft hesitated before adding, "They searched your room, Rain. They knew exactly where to look. And before they left... one of them said they'd come back."

He turned his gaze to me, eyes filled with dread.

"They said they'd come back for you, Khai."

A chill ran down my spine.

Rain's hand found mine, gripping tightly, her silent fear screaming louder than words.

I exhaled slowly, trying to keep my composure.

"They're after something," I muttered under my breath. "Something they think we have."

And if they were willing to break into our home to find it, I knew this wasn't over. Not even close.

I stepped outside, the cold night air biting against my skin as I pulled out my phone with trembling fingers. The weight of what had just happened pressed heavily on my chest. I dialed the number I had hoped to avoid calling.

Poppa answered on the first ring.

"Khai," his voice came through, calm yet commanding. "What is it?"

I took a steadying breath, my eyes scanning the dark street as if expecting the shadows to move. "Poppa, something happened at Rain's apartment," I said, trying to keep my voice level. "They were attacked—armed men. They tore the place apart, beat Kroft... and they said they'd come back for me."

There was a pause, a heavy silence that spoke volumes. Then, his voice came back, steady but with an underlying edge. "Did they take anything?"

"No, but they were looking for something." I swallowed hard. "A black book."

Another pause. Then, I heard the scrape of a chair on his end, followed by a slow exhale. "They're getting bolder," he murmured, almost to himself. "And desperate."

"Poppa," I pressed, my frustration bleeding through. "What's in that book? Why are they after it?"

A low chuckle rumbled through the line. "Letty's people believe that book holds the Stanton legacy—secrets, deals, names... everything that's ever built and destroyed our empire. And if they think you have it, they won't stop."

I clenched my jaw. "But I don't have it."

Poppa's voice turned sharp. "But they think you do, and that's enough. Listen carefully, Khai. You need to leave Rain behind. You can't afford any distractions right now."

I closed my eyes, my grip tightening on the phone. "I can't do that, Poppa."

"You can and you will," he said firmly. Poppa's voice turned sharp. "They'll use her against you, Khai. They've done it once, and they'll do it again. You don't want to see Rain suffer like that again, do you?"

My stomach churned, but I couldn't argue with him—not when Rain's safety was on the line.

"What should I do?" I asked quietly.

A beat of silence, then his voice came cold and resolute. "Come to the estate. Now. We have work to do."

I ended the call and stared up at the night sky, feeling the crushing weight of the decision I knew I had to make.

I had to protect Rain. Even if it meant walking away.