Chapter 5

Marcus's POV

The back courtyard is quiet, only distant street sounds faintly audible. I pull out my phone and return Olivia's call.

"Marcus." As soon as she answers, her tone carries obvious displeasure. "Why aren't you answering my calls? I'm in Nova City now, outside your company."

"You came to Nova City?" I frown. "Why didn't you say something first?"

"Because I wanted to surprise you." She laughs. "Marcus, we need to talk. It's been three years, I've thought it through—we should start over. The family elders have agreed to cooperate. Now it's just about your attitude."

I'm silent for a while, weighing every word.

"Now's not a good time," I say. "I'm handling some... other matters."

"Other matters?" Her voice sharpens immediately. "That bookstore girl? Marcus, you haven't actually developed feelings for her, have you? Don't forget our goal—Donovan and Montague together, holding the Eastern European arms market firmly in our hands."

"Of course not." I deny it immediately. "She's just... a tool. The bookstore's still useful. I can't break with her now."

The phone goes quiet for a second, then Olivia audibly relaxes, her tone softening.

"That's right." She says quietly. "Then I'll come find you now. Where are you?"

"Maple District, Haven Books back courtyard," I say. "But you—"

"I know where it is." She cuts me off directly. "Don't move. I'll be right there."

She hangs up.

I stare at the darkened screen, a vague sense of foreboding slowly creeping into my heart.

Ten minutes pass.

Twenty minutes.

I'm still standing in the back courtyard, haven't returned to the gathering. Laughter and music drift faintly from the bookstore, somewhat muffled through the wall. Finally, a figure appears at the courtyard entrance.

Olivia wears a black trench coat, long hair draped over her shoulders, particularly striking in the sparse streetlight.

"You shouldn't have come here," I lower my voice. "It's not safe. If Isabella sees—"

"So what if she sees?" She raises an eyebrow contemptuously. "Marcus, you need to wake up. We're the same kind of people—Montague and Donovan, both rule-makers in the underworld. That bookstore girl..."

She deliberately pauses, lips curling slightly.

"What can she give you? A room full of moldy old books? A lifetime of mediocrity trapped in this little community? You deserve more than this. With me, you can control the Eastern European arms market, expand Donovan's power to a whole new level. That's the path you should take."

Her words precisely hit my weak spot.

Yes, Isabella can't give me these things. Her world is too small, reduced to just the bookstore, old books, and these ordinary regular customers.

But the problem is—right now, I still need her small world.

"Olivia, listen to me—" I start.

She suddenly raises her hand, fingertips sliding across my cheek. That familiar touch makes me instinctively want to dodge, but I force myself to stand still.

"Olivia, don't." I grasp her wrist, slowly lowering it but not immediately releasing it. "What we should discuss is cooperation, not... this."

"Why can't it be 'this'?" She steps closer, voice dropping with dangerous ambiguity. "Marcus, I admit I misjudged you three years ago. Shouldn't have questioned your abilities. The you now—Stellar Entertainment's CEO, Donovan's de facto heir—you're finally qualified to stand beside me, and qualified to negotiate terms with Montague."

She's almost pressed against my chest, eyes sharply examining me.

"I know about your setup in Nova City." She lowers her voice. "The old book network in fringe communities, using a civilian girlfriend to whitewash your image... You're much smarter than three years ago. But don't forget—real power never needs disguise. With me, you don't need to pretend to be an 'ordinary person.'"

Just then, a faint but clear voice comes from behind—

"Marcus?"

Isabella stands in the back doorway, clutching a bouquet of white roses—the flowers I brought tonight. Her face is pale, eyes wide, filled with naked shock and disbelief.

She saw everything.

Saw Olivia's hand slide down my face, saw the distance between us that was too close, and saw that I didn't push Olivia away immediately.

"Isabella," I step in front of her, trying to make my tone sound calm. "Let me explain—"

"No need." She interrupts me, voice trembling but eyes already beginning to freeze. "I saw everything."

A soft laugh comes from behind me.

"So this is your 'bookstore girl'?" Olivia walks to my side, appraising Isabella without disguise. "Marcus, your 'bookstore experiment' should end now, shouldn't it? Shouldn't this stepping-stone lady know better and exit gracefully?"

"Stepping stone..." Isabella repeats softly, tears suddenly welling in her eyes.

I look at her, rapidly weighing all possible explanations and consequences in my mind.

Can't let her go now. At least not until the new location completely takes over.

"Isabella," I try to make my voice gentle. "We're discussing work cooperation. You misunderstood."

"Misunderstood?" She stares at me, voice uncontrollably trembling. "I saw her touch you. You didn't push her away. That's also a misunderstanding?"

This time, even I have no words to cover it up.

The air suddenly becomes heavy.

I take a deep breath and switch to a more "rational" angle: "Isabella, we... let's talk about this another time, okay? Right now there are so many guests in the bookstore, they're all waiting for you. You don't want them to see you like this, do you?"

"Another time?" She looks at me as if confirming she heard correctly. "You won't even give me an explanation now?"

"It's not that I won't." I say. "Just that now isn't suitable. Once things settle down here, I'll contact you, and we'll talk properly."

She looks down at the white roses in her hands. Tears finally spill uncontrollably, falling onto the petals one by one, staining that pure white into transparent gray.

"I understand," she says softly, voice hollow, as if something has been suddenly scooped out. "I understand everything."

When she lifts her head, the tears are still in her eyes but already suppressed by a cold, hard resolve.

"From now on, please don't come to my bookstore anymore."

As soon as the words are out, she turns back inside, footsteps slightly stumbling but not stopping.

The door closes behind her, separating her and the light inside from where I can see.

I stand in place, quietly watching that door.

Olivia steps forward, tone carrying undisguised satisfaction.

"See? She's more fragile than you thought." She says. "Now you can put your attention back on business. We should discuss the specific terms of cooperation."

I don't answer, just stare at that tightly closed door, feeling for the first time an uncomfortable emptiness in my chest.

Logic tells me—the bookstore is just a location, a replaceable tool. Isabella is just one part of it.

But somehow, I'm suddenly no longer certain—

After tonight, can Haven Books really continue to be used by me as it was before?