Stefan Rodriguez stared into his whiskey ss, watching the amber liquid catch the dim


    bar light. This was his fourth drink of the night, or maybe his fifth. He''d lost count somewhere between the endless news alerts about Rose''s scandal and the memories that wouldn''t stop haunting him. The bar was nearly empty on this rainy Tuesday night. Just him, the tired-


    looking bartender who had stopped trying to make conversation hours ago, and a couple in the far corner who seemed too wrapped up in each other to notice anything else. Perfect. Thest thing Stefan wante letting the burn travel down his throat. The television above the bar yed footage of Rose leaving her apartment building, surrounded by reporters shouting questions about her affairs, her stolen designs, her denials, her careful performance of wronged innocence.


    "Turn that off," he muttered to the bartender, who nced up at the screen and reached for the remote without


    The sudden silence felt heavier somehow. Without the distraction of Rose''s public disgrace, Stefan was left alone with thoughts that had been circling his mind for days. How had he been so blind? So easily ma The bartender set another whiskey in front of him without being asked. "On the house," he said, his eyes reflecting something that might have been understanding. You look like you need it." Stefan nodded his thanks, too exhausted for words. The past week had hollowed him out. First the copse of his family''s shipping empire, then the discovery of Rose''s deception, and now this public spectacle deep weariness that no amount of alcohol seemed to touch.


    His phone buzzed on the bar top. His father, again. The third call tonight. Stefan silenced it without answering. What could he possibly say to the man whose legacy he had failed to protect? Whose family name The small Rodriguez Shipping operation in Seattle was still functioning, but barely. The employees who had remained loyal deserved better than a broken man drowning his failures in whiskey. They deserved a Stefan ran a hand through his disheveled hair, remembering when he had been that man. When he had believed himself worthy of the Rodriguez name. When he had thought himself in love with a woman who No, not a stranger. A predator.


    The emails the investigator had uncovered had


    revealed the truth with brutal rity. Rose wasn''t a kind


    and good wornan. She had been plotting, manipting, calcting for years. The calls from London. The "chance" encounters when she returned to New York. The perfectly timedfort offered when his mar All deliberate. All strategic. All focused on achieving what she wanted, regardless of who suffered in the process. Including Camille.


    Stefan closed his eyes as memories of his wife flooded back Camille, with her gentle smile and quiet determination Camille, who had loved him despite his ws, despite his family''s cold wee, desnit


    Charter K


    distance he had ced between them as Rose''s influence grew.


    Camille, whose car had gone off that bridge two nights after he had asked for a divorce. The night after he had chosen Rose.


    The guilt was a physical pain in his chest, sharper than any business failure, any public humiliation. The knowledge that he had thrown away something genuine for a carefully crafted illusion felt like swallowing


    "You


    okay, buddy?" the bartender asked, pausing in his task of wiping down sses.


    Stefan opened his eyes, surprised to find his vision blurred. "Fine," he managed. "Just... thinking,"


    "Dangerous activity after midnight," the bartender said, not unkindly. "Especially with that much whiskey Involved"


    Stefan attempted a smile that felt more like a grimace. "Some thoughts follow you no matter how much you drink.


    The bartender nodded knowingly. "Those are the ones worth listening to, usually''


    The simple wisdom hit harder than it should have. Stefan had spent nearly two


    years not listening to his thoughts, not about his failing marriage, not about Rose''s convenienttiming, not about the business decisions that had left Rodriguez Shipping vulnerable to


    hostile takeover. He had silenced every warning, ignored every red g, dismissed every instinct that might have saved him from where he sat now.


    His phone buzzed again, not a call this time, but a news alert. Stefan knew he should ignore it, spare himself whatever fresh humiliation the media had uncovered about Rose or their rtionship. But some mas


    "ROSE LEWIS SCANDAL DEEPENS: FORMER CLASSMATE PROVIDES EVIDENCE OF DESIGN THEFT"


    Apanying the headline was a photo of Rose from her fashion school days, standing proudly beside what had been her breakthrough design, a design that, ording to the article, had been stolen from a fe Stefan scrolled through the story, a strange numbness spreading through him. Every new revtion about Rose should have shocked him, but instead, each one simply confirmed what he now understood. The And what was most disturbing wasn''t how thoroughly she had fooled him, but how easily he had allowed himself to be fooled


    When had he be this man? This gullible, shallow person who had discarded a genuine wife for the shier, more calcted attention of her sister? When had ambition and appearance begun to matter more than substance


    and truth?


    The questions burned through the alcohol haze, demanding answers he wasn''t ready to face.


    Stefan signaled for another drink, needing to dull the sharp edges of his self-


    recrimination. The bartender hesitated, clearly weighing his professional responsibility against the desperation in Stefan''s eyes.


    "Lasi one," he said firmly, pouring a smaller measure than before. "Then I''m calling you a car."


    Stefan didn''t argue. He had lost the right to make good decisions for himself somewhere between signing divorce papers on his anniversary and watching Kane Industries systematically dismantle his family con Kane Industries. The name triggered something in his fog mind. A connection he had been trying to make for


    days now. Victoria Kane had no history in shipping, no previous interest in Rodriguez Shipping assets. Yet herpany had moved with surgical precision to acquire their debt, seize their assets, and block ever


    recovery.


    Why? What had prompted such targeted destruction?


    And more puzzling was her daughter, Camille Kane. The mysterious heiress who had appeared less than two years ago, with no background information beyond


    vague references to a European education. The woman whose dark eyes had seemed almost familiar when they had briefly meat that charity function months ago.


    There was something there, some connection he couldn''t quite grasp through the whiskey fog. Some exnation for why bane Industries had singled out Rodriguez Shipping for suchplete destruction "Time to go, Mr. Rodriguez."


    Stefan looked up, surprised to find the bartender standing before him with his coat. The bar was empty now, the couple in the corner long gone, the night pressing dark against the windows. "What time is it?" Stefan asked, voice rough from whiskey and silence.


    "Nearly two. And you''ve had enough."


    Stefan nodded, not trusting himself to stand without assistance. The bartender''s steady hand helped him to his feet, guided him into his coat, and steered him toward the door. "Your car''s outside. Already paid for."


    "Thanks," Stefan managed, fumbling in his pocket for his wallet. "Let me...."


    "It''s covered." The bartender waved away his attempt to pay. "Someone called. Said to put it on their ount." Stefan frowned, confused. "Who?"


    "Didn''t say. Just that you shouldn''t be driving"


    The mystery benefactor was probably his father, still monitoring him despite being ignored all evening. The thought should have annoyed him, but instead, it simply added to the weight of failure pressing down Outside, rain fell steadily, turning the city streets into rivers of reflected light. A ck town car waited at the curb, driver standing patiently beside the open rear door. Not his father''s usual service, Stefan noted d "Mr. Rodriguez," the driver said with a slight nod. "Where can I take you tonight?"


    Stefan hesitated. Not back to the empty penthouse he had shared with Rose, still filled with her things despite her hasty departure days ago. Not to the family estate that now belonged to Kane Industries. Not to "Just drive," he said finally, sliding into the car''s leather interior. "Anywhere."


    The driver nodded again, closing the door and returning to the wheel without further


    questions. The car pulled smoothly into the rain-


    slicked street, wipers creating a hypnotic rhythm against the windshield.


    Stefan leaned back against


    the seat, letting exhaustion and alcohol pull him toward unconsciousness. The car moved smoothly through nearly empty streets, wipers still keeping their steady beat. Stefan felt consciousness slipping away d s sleep fing


    As sleep finally imed him, his mind still wrestled with


    unanswered questions. Why had Kane Industries targeted him so precisely? What had triggered such a thorough destruction of everything he valued? And why did


    he still


    el there was something important he was missing some connection just beyond his grasp?


    The car continued its journey through the rain-


    washed city, carrying its unconscious passenger toward a destination neither of them yet knew.