---- Chapter 17 Emerson Keller POV: The old observatory was perched on a hill overlooking the city, a forgotten relic of a bygone era. It was the perfect place for a final confrontation. Isolated, dramatic, and filled with ghosts. We had come here on our first date. Barron had rented it out for the night, and we had danced alone under the domed ceiling, a projection of the starry night sky swirling above us. It had been breathtakingly romantic. It was a lie, of course. Alll of it. Now, the place was mine. | sat in a large, throne-like chair in the center of the room, hidden in the shadows, watching the city lights twinkle below. Keenan stood behind me, a silent, comforting presence. He had just finished adjusting the intricate silver mask that covered the right side of my face, the side with the scars. It was cool against my skin, a beautiful shield. "Are you ready for this?" he asked softly, his hand resting gently on my shoulder. "I' ve been ready for six months," | replied, my voice calm. | thought about the past few months, the meticulous, calculated steps we had taken to bring Barron to his knees. It ---- had been like a complex game of chess, and with Keenan' s strategic genius and my intimate knowledge of Barron' s weaknesses, we had stripped him of his power, piece by piece. We had turned his own assets against him, using the money in my trust to buy out his company from under him. He was a king with no kingdom, a predator with no teeth. "He knows," | said. "He received the divorce papers this afternoon. He knows Elara Vance is Emerson Keller." "He' Il be unpredictable," Keenan warned. "Desperate men do desperate things." "He' s not just a desperate man," | said, my voice hardening. "He' s a monster. Do you know what he did to me, Keenan? While he was whispering promises of love, he was systematically murdering our children. Ten of them. He fed me poison in a teacup and called it affection." Keenan' s hand tightened on my shoulder. His jaw was clenched, his blue eyes dark with a protective fury. "I know," he said, his voice a low growl. "And he will pay for every last one of them." He leaned down, his voice dropping to a whisper. "I have my best men stationed around the perimeter. He' s coming alone, as requested. You Il be perfectly safe." | reached up and touched his hand. "l know. Thank you, Keenan. For everything." He was more than just an ally. He was my rock, my confidant, ---- my friend. In the quiet moments at the clinic, | had found myself looking at him, really looking at him, for the first time. | saw the boy | had grown up with, but | also saw the man he had become-strong, brilliant, and unfailingly kind. A quiet, steady warmth had begun to grow in the cold, empty spaces of my heart. A feeling | hadn't allowed myself to have in a very long time. But tonight was not about new beginnings. It was about final endings. | heard the sound of a car approaching. Headlights swept across the observatory entrance. "He's here," | said. Keenan gave my shoulder one last squeeze. "The stage is yours," he said, before melting back into the shadows. Barron walked into the observatory. He looked... diminished. The arrogant, powerful titan of industry was gone. In his place was a man haunted by his own demons. His suit was rumpled, his hair unkempt. But his eyes, when they scanned the darkened room, were still the same-intense, predatory, and burning with a desperate obsession. "Emerson?" he called out, his voice echoing in the vast, empty space. "I know you' re here. Show yourself." | remained silent, hidden in the shadows. | wanted him to wait. | wanted him to feel a fraction of the helplessness | had felt, locked in his darkness. ---- "Enough with the games!" he roared, his voice cracking with emotion. "I know you' re alive! | know it's you!" He started walking towards the center of the room, towards my hiding place. My heart began to pound, a slow, heavy drumbeat. This was it. The culmination of everything. "| came alone," he said, his voice softer now, pleading. "As you asked. Just... let me see you. Please." | took a deep, steadying breath. | would not be the frightened, broken woman he remembered. | was Elara Vance. | was vengeance. | was power. | stepped out of the shadows. The moonlight streaming through the high arched windows caught the silver of my mask, making it gleam. | stood before him, a specter from his past, remade and returned He stopped dead in his tracks. He stared at me, at the mask, at the cold, unfamiliar woman | had become. His mouth opened, but no words came out. He looked at me as if he were seeing a ghost. And in a way, he was. The ghost of the woman he had killed, returned to claim her pound of flesh. In "CEO, That Intern is Actually Your Wife" by CrushReel, delve into a captivating romance where a billionaire CEO becomes contractually linked to an unexpected partner. 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