Sleep was a luxury I rarely afforded myself, and when I did, it usually came in short, restless, and deeply unsatisfying bursts.
Normally, my body clock was merciless. I was always up well before the sun, fueled by caffeine and the relentless demand to keep moving. But today, the sheer weight of physical and mental exhaustion finally caught up to me, forcing my body to pay a long-overdue debt. The day before yesterday had been an absolute nightmare spent dealing with that whole Dex situation, a mess that required every ounce of leverage and patience I possessed. Yesterday hadn't offered any relief either. I had spent every single waking hour glued to my desk, staring at screens and notes, obsessively connecting the dots behind the sabotage back in Spain. Someone had blasted my company in Valencia, nearly burning my entire life's work to the ground, and the sheer hostility of that act burned in my chest.
Thirteen years. It had been thirteen long, quiet years since I walked away from this cursed hometown, swearing to myself that I would never step foot back in it again. The memories here were heavy, and the atmosphere felt oppressive. The only reason I was sitting in this house right now was my mother's accident. I was here on a clock-temporarily living under this roof strictly to uncover the truth, figure out who targeted my business, and ensure my family was safe. The moment I had my answers and tied up the loose ends, I was going to pack my bags and leave again. I had no intention of staying.
I had barely managed to close my heavy eyelids for what felt like a fraction of a nap when a sudden, high-pitched burst of loud, ringing laughter tore straight through the hallway wall.
A surge of utter disgust and irritation washed over me. My eyes snapped open, feeling gritty and burning with raw fatigue. The noise pierced right through the fog in my brain, instantly shattering whatever thin slice of peace I was trying to grab.
I yanked myself out of bed, threw open my bedroom door with unnecessary force, and marched furiously down the hardwood floor toward my sister's room. Pushing her door open without bothering to knock, I snapped, "What the hell is with all the noise? It's early morning! Some of us are actually trying to sleep Illy!"
The angry words had barely left my mouth when the air in the room completely shifted. I froze right in the doorway.
Sitting on the edge of the bed right beside my sister, Ilya, was Arora.
They had clearly been in the middle of gossiping and cracking jokes, but my sudden, aggressive intrusion hung in the air like a thick cloud. Arora looked completely stunned, her wide eyes locked onto mine as if she had just seen a ghost standing in the threshold. I could practically see the gears turning in her head as she tried to make sense of my presence.
Ilya, on the other hand, didn't even flinch. She just rolled her eyes, crossed her arms over her chest, and threw me a look of pure, unadulterated sisterly disdain.
"Early morning?" Ilya fired back, her voice dripping with thick sarcasm as she gestured toward the window. "Check a clock, Ryan. It's literally one in the afternoon. My best friend came over to our house, and this is how we are whenever we meet. Deal with it."
I shifted my stance, resting one heavy shoulder against the doorframe, trying to shake off the lingering grogginess. My gaze slid away from Ilya and landed squarely on Arora, who was still frozen in place, her lips slightly parted in quiet shock.
"Well," I said softly, a dry, mocking smile playing on my lips as I looked back at my sister, "if that's the case, you might want to tell your friend to stop staring at me like that."
The effect of my comment was instantaneous. The color drained from Arora's shocked face for a split second before a deep, burning crimson flushed across her cheeks. She instantly averted her eyes, looking down at her hands and nervously tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear as palpable discomfort took over her entire posture.
Seeing her so visibly flustered softened my anger just enough to bring a faint sense of clarity back to my exhausted mind. I hadn't actually intended to make her feel cornered or embarrassed in her own safe space.
"Sorry," I added in a much calmer, quieter tone, catching Arora's eyes for a brief second to strip away the harsh edge from my earlier entry. "My bad."
Without waiting for either of them to give a reply, I turned on my heel, stepped out into the hallway, and pulled the door shut behind me.
I walked back into the dim silence of my bedroom and stood there for a long moment, rubbing the back of my aching neck. My mind was supposed to be entirely occupied with Valencia, the explosion, and finding the mastermind behind the attack so I could wrap things up and get out of this town for good.
Yet, as I leaned back against my closed bedroom door, listening to the muffled, hesitant voices resuming down the hall, it wasn't the threat to my empire occupying my thoughts; it was the lingering image of Arora's startled, blushing face, echoing vividly in the back of my mind.