Summer in Èze carried a kind of golden laziness that made people believe nothing terrible could ever happen there.
The mornings smelled like citrus trees and sea salt drifting up from the Mediterranean. Tourists wandered through the narrow stone streets with linen shirts and expensive sunglasses, stopping to take photographs beneath climbing bougainvillea that spilled from balconies like pink waterfalls. The cafes were crowded, the harbor glittered under the heat, and the evenings stretched endlessly with wine, music, and soft laughter beneath amber lights.
It was beautiful in the kind of way that made New York feel unreal.
Alina had almost forgotten what pressure felt like in Èze.
Almost.
She stood inside the kitchen of Isabelle's restaurant, sleeves rolled to her elbows as she arranged fresh herbs onto serving plates while Isabelle argued dramatically with a supplier over the phone in rapid French.
"No, no, no—if he sends me tomatoes this soft again, I'll personally throw them at his face," Isabelle snapped before hanging up and sighing heavily.
Alina laughed softly.
"You threaten at least three people a day."
"And yet somehow society still considers me charming."
"You are charming."
"I know."
Isabelle grinned before studying her more carefully.
"You've been distracted all week."
Alina kept her eyes on the basil leaves in front of her. "Busy."
"Liar."
The answer came too quickly.
"Maybe."
Isabelle narrowed her eyes but didn't push further.
That was one thing Alina loved about the people in Èze. They noticed things, but they did not pry open wounds unless invited.
The sound of the restaurant door opening drifted from the front.
A familiar voice answered someone in French, low and warm.
Luc.
Without meaning to, Alina smiled immediately.
Isabelle caught it instantly.
"Oh, there it is."
"What?"
"That face."
Alina rolled her eyes. "Stop."
"You're in love. It's disgusting."
"I am not."
"Mhm."
Before Alina could argue further, Luc appeared through the kitchen doorway wearing rolled sleeves and sunglasses pushed into his hair. The late afternoon sunlight behind him painted gold against the edges of his figure.
And somehow, after all these months, seeing him still softened something inside her chest.
His gaze found her immediately.
Always immediately.
"Bonsoir," he said softly.
Her lips curved despite herself. "You're early."
"You said you finished at six."
"It's five thirty."
"I was optimistic."
Isabelle made a dramatic gagging sound.
"You two are unbearable."
Luc ignored her completely as he walked toward Alina, leaning down naturally to kiss her temple.
Not rushed.
Not performative.
Just familiar.
Dangerously familiar.
"Come with me tonight," he murmured quietly. "There's music by the harbor."
Alina opened her mouth to answer.
Then stopped.
Because suddenly—
Helena's voice echoed inside her mind from the call two nights ago.
It's time to return to New York.
The warmth in her chest dimmed slightly.
Luc noticed instantly.
His brows pulled together.
"What happened?"
"Nothing."
Too quick.
Too practiced.
Luc's expression changed subtly.
Not suspicious.
Concerned.
That somehow felt worse.
—
The evening sky over Èze glowed lavender and gold by the time they walked down toward the harbor.
Luc held her hand loosely as they moved through crowded streets filled with tourists and locals escaping the heat of the day. Someone nearby played violin music while restaurant lights flickered alive one by one.
Normally, Alina loved evenings like this.
Tonight, she could barely hear any of it over the thoughts in her head.
White Clover was growing faster than expected.
Three years ago, it had begun quietly.
Carefully.
A survival strategy disguised as an investment firm.
Now it was something else entirely.
Something dangerous.
And Darius's company—
It was finally starting to weaken.
Not collapsing.
Not yet.
But the footing was loosening.
Missed projections.
Board dissatisfaction.
Institutional uncertainty.
The first tremors.
Helena had sounded almost exhilarated on the phone.
"He's vulnerable now," she'd said. "Not destroyed. Vulnerable. There's a difference."
Alina still remembered sitting frozen at her kitchen table afterward, staring at the dark sea outside her windows.
"You're asking me to go back."
"I'm telling you the timing is finally correct."
"I built a life here."
"And you also built White Clover for this exact moment."
Silence.
Then Helena's colder voice:
"If you hesitate now, you'll regret it for the rest of your life."
The memory made her stomach tighten.
Luc squeezed her hand gently, pulling her back into the present.
"You disappeared again."
She looked at him.
"I'm sorry."
"You've apologized four times tonight."
"Have I?"
"Yes."
His gaze lingered on her face.
For the first time since they met, Luc looked uncertain around her.
Like he could feel something shifting beneath the surface and didn't know how to reach it.
They stopped near the harbor wall overlooking the water.
Music drifted from somewhere behind them.
Boats rocked gently against the docks.
Luc leaned his forearms against the stone railing beside her.
"You want to tell me what's wrong?"
Alina stared ahead quietly.
The truthful answer sat heavily inside her throat.
Because the problem was—
She suddenly realized she was afraid.
Not of New York itself.
Not even of Darius.
She was afraid of losing this version of herself.
The woman she became in Èze had been peaceful.
Soft.
Human again.
She taught children twice a week.
Cooked with Isabelle.
Read books by the sea.
Walked through flower markets with Luc on Sundays.
For the first time in years, she had stopped surviving.
And now Helena wanted her to walk back into war.
Luc watched her carefully.
Then he asked softly, "Is this about New York?"
Her head turned sharply toward him.
"You knew?"
"You've been checking flights."
Of course he noticed.
Luc noticed everything.
Alina looked back toward the water.
"I need to go back temporarily."
The words sounded calmer than she felt.
Luc nodded slowly.
"The restaurants?"
"Yes."
Partially true.
"Expansion?"
"Yes."
Also true.
"Investors?"
Alina hesitated for half a second too long.
Luc caught it immediately.
His expression shifted slightly.
Not accusing.
Thinking.
"You don't want to go."
That surprised her.
Because everyone else probably would have assumed she was excited.
Ambitious.
Driven.
But Luc—
Luc looked at her like he understood she had finally found peace here.
And maybe he understood what it cost her to leave it.
"I have to," she said quietly.
The wind moved through her hair softly.
Luc studied her face for a long moment.
Then something in his own expression changed.
Very subtly.
Concern deepening into realization.
Not realization of the truth.
But realization that this was bigger than restaurants.
Bigger than investors.
Alina could feel him seeing the tension she failed to hide.
The fear.
And perhaps what unsettled him most—
was that she almost never looked afraid.
"You're scaring me a little," he admitted gently.
Her chest tightened instantly.
"I don't want to."
"I know."
He stepped closer.
One hand moved to her waist naturally, grounding her.
"What is it really?"
The question nearly broke her composure.
Because for one reckless second, she wanted to tell him everything.
White Clover.
The shares.
The strategy.
Helena.
The board.
Darius.
The years of silent planning.
She wanted to tell someone how exhausting it had been to build power quietly while pretending she no longer cared.
But she couldn't.
Not yet.
Maybe not ever.
So instead she whispered, "It's complicated."
Luc let out a soft breath through his nose.
Then nodded once.
"Okay."
No pressure.
No interrogation.
Just acceptance.
That somehow hurt more.
"You trust me that much?" she asked quietly.
"I trust that if you could tell me, you would."
God.
That nearly shattered her.
Alina looked away quickly toward the sea because suddenly her eyes burned.
Luc noticed that too.
He touched her jaw gently, turning her back toward him.
And then he froze slightly.
Because there it was again.
Fear.
Real fear.
Not panic.
Not weakness.
But the expression of someone standing at the edge of a door they weren't sure they wanted to open.
For the first time since meeting her—
Luc understood that Alina carried something enormous behind her calmness.
Something sharp.
Something powerful.
And whatever waited for her in New York…
it mattered enough to terrify her.
"You'll come back?" he asked quietly.
The question lodged directly into her chest.
Because she didn't know.
Not truly.
Helena had warned her already.
Once you step back into that world, anonymity dies forever.
Alina swallowed carefully.
"Yes," she said softly.
But even she heard the uncertainty hidden inside the answer.
Luc heard it too.
The silence between them deepened.
Around them, the harbor continued glowing beautifully beneath the summer evening. People laughed nearby. Glasses clinked. Music drifted through warm air.
And yet suddenly Alina felt like she was already leaving.
Luc pulled her gently against him.
She let herself rest there quietly, forehead against his shoulder while the Mediterranean wind curled around them.
For a few precious moments, she allowed herself to imagine another life.
One where she stayed in Èze permanently.
One where White Clover remained only an investment company.
One where Darius Voss became nothing more than a closed chapter.
One where she and Luc simply existed like this:
peaceful.
ordinary.
safe.
But Helena Ashcroft had been right about one thing.
Alina had not spent years building power just to walk away before the end.
And somewhere in New York—
Darius still had absolutely no idea what was coming for him.