Raven had never been one to let her emotions dictate her actions. She had been raised to be rational, strategic - to see the world through a lens of calculated decisions.

But when she saw Ryle with her, all logic unraveled.

Nixon Enterprises Gala, Late Evening

The ballroom shimmered under golden lights, laughter and conversation weaving through the crowd like a carefully orchestrated symphony of wealth and power. Raven had spent most of the night fulfilling her obligations - smiling, shaking hands, listening to half-hearted compliments disguised as business propositions.

And then she saw him.

Ryle stood near the grand bar, his posture relaxed, a smirk curving at the edges of his mouth as he leaned closer to a woman Raven didn't recognize.

She was stunning - tall, poised, effortlessly leaning into him with a familiarity that twisted something sharp in Raven's chest.

For a moment, Raven told herself it was nothing.

Ryle was charismatic - he had always been someone who drew people in without trying.

But then she saw it - the way his fingers brushed against the woman's wrist, the way she laughed like she knew something Raven didn't, the way Ryle looked at her.

And suddenly, it wasn't nothing.

Her stomach clenched, heat rising to her throat.

She shouldn't care.

She shouldn't feel like the floor beneath her was shifting, like the carefully built world she had constructed with him was cracking beneath the weight of something too painful to name.

But she did.

Raven moved before she could second-guess herself, stepping through the crowd, her heels clicking against the polished marble floor as she closed the distance between them.

The woman noticed her first, arching a delicate brow before glancing back at Ryle.

Raven ignored her.

Her gaze was locked on him.

Raven: (coolly) "Enjoying yourself?"

Ryle turned, his smirk faltering for the briefest second before it returned - forced, cautious.

Ryle: "Raven - "

She didn't wait for the excuse.

She already knew what it would sound like - some carefully worded explanation, something smooth and reassuring, something designed to make her doubt what she had just seen.

Raven: (sharply) "Don't."

A flicker of frustration crossed his expression, and for a moment, something unreadable passed between them.

The woman beside him shifted, sensing the tension, then excused herself with a polite smile and disappeared into the crowd.

Ryle exhaled, rubbing a hand over his jaw.

Ryle: "You're reading too much into this."

Raven let out a breath, bitter and sharp.

Raven: "Am I?"

Ryle stepped closer, lowering his voice, his gaze searching hers.

Ryle: "I wasn't - "

Raven: "Wasn't what?"

He faltered, just for a second, and that was enough.

She had spent so long trying to believe that he could be different - that whatever this thing between them was, it was real, solid, something worth holding onto.

But love, no matter how deep, couldn't erase old habits.

She felt her pulse in her ears, felt the weight of everything pressing down on her.

Raven: (quietly) "I don't want to do this anymore."

Ryle's expression darkened, his jaw tightening.

Ryle: "So you're just going to walk away?"

Her fingers curled into fists at her sides.

She should have.

She should have turned around and left, because that was the right thing to do - the rational, strategic thing.

But she didn't.

Instead, she stayed