Martin Mole had never been a man who begged.

Yet for the past two days, that was exactly what he had been doing.

He had called Fiona four times. Texted her left voice messages that grew increasingly raw with each attempt. Each one started the same way: "Fiona, please. Just talk to me." Each one ended with the same silence.

She never picked up. Never replied.

He sat in his office on the top floor of the Obsidian Spire, staring at his phone screen like it had personally betrayed him. The city lights glittered below, but he saw none of it. All he could see was the memory of her walking out of his office after handing in her resignation back straight, eyes forward, refusing to look at him.

Martin ran a hand through his hair, frustration and something sharper fear twisting in his chest. He couldn’t let it end like this. Not without her hearing him out. Not without explaining that he was fighting to keep her, that the engagement with Katherine was a cage he was trying to break, that the night they spent together still haunted him every single day.

He grabbed his keys.

If she wouldn’t answer his calls, he would go to her.

The drive to Fiona’s quiet, leaf-shrouded street felt longer than usual. When he pulled up in front of the modest cottage, the porch light was on, casting a warm amber glow over the flowerbeds. He sat in his car for a full minute, gripping the steering wheel, gathering his thoughts.

Then he got out and walked to the door.

He knocked firmly three solid raps that echoed in the quiet evening air.

The door opened.

Elara stood there, wiping her hands on a dish towel, clearly expecting someone else. The moment she saw Martin, her expression shifted from mild surprise to sharp, protective disbelief.

"Mr. Mole," she said, her voice cool and measured. "This is... unexpected. What are you doing here?"

Martin straightened, trying to maintain the commanding presence he was known for, but under Elara’s unflinching gaze, it felt slightly hollow.

"Halo ma’am," he said respectfully. "I’m here to see Fiona. Please. I just need five minutes. She won’t answer my calls. I need to speak with her."

Elara’s eyes narrowed. She didn’t step aside. Instead, she folded her arms across her chest, the same protective stance Fiona had described many times.

"My daughter has made her choice," Elara said firmly. "She resigned from your company. She doesn’t want to be contacted by you right now. I suggest you respect that."

Martin’s jaw tightened, but he kept his voice even.

"I understand she’s angry. I understand things have been... complicated. But this isn’t just about work. There are things she needs to hear from me. Personal things. Please, Mrs. Flare. Five minutes. That’s all I’m asking."

Elara studied him for a long moment, her expression unreadable. Then she glanced over her shoulder toward the living room where Fiona was sitting.

"Fiona," she called, voice loud enough to carry. "There’s someone at the door for you."

Fiona appeared in the hallway a few seconds later. The moment her eyes landed on Martin, her entire body tensed. The color drained from her face, then rushed back in a flush of anger and exhaustion.

"Martin," she said, voice flat. "What are you doing here?"

He took a small step forward, but Elara remained firmly in the doorway like a shield.

"I tried calling," he said, eyes locked on hers. "You wouldn’t answer. Fiona, please. Just hear me out.I’m not letting you throw away everything because of one bad day. Come back. We can fix this. The event, your role, us we can still fix it."

Fiona’s hands curled into fists at her sides. She felt her stomach knotting ,as if sensing her rising emotions.

"There is no ’us,’ Martin," she said, her voice trembling but clear. "There never really was. You have Katherine. You have your engagement. You have your empire. I have nothing left at Voss except accusations and whispers. I’m done. I resigned. It’s over."

Martin’s expression cracked pain flashing openly across his usually controlled features.

"You’re running to Moonshine, aren’t you?" he asked, voice lower. "After everything? After they tried to sabotage us? Fiona, don’t do this. Don’t let them use you as a weapon against me. Against us."

Fiona shook her head, tears burning in her eyes.

"You still don’t get it. This isn’t about you. This is about me choosing myself for once. Goodbye, Martin."

She stepped back.

Elara moved to close the door, her voice ice-cold.

"Goodnight, Mr. Mole. I suggest you don’t come back uninvited."

The door clicked shut.

Martin stood on the porch for a long moment, staring at the closed door, the warm porch light suddenly feeling mocking. He could hear faint voices inside Fiona’s raised, emotional tone and Elara’s calmer, protective one.

Inside the house, Fiona sank onto the couch, hands shaking.

Elara sat beside her and pulled her into a hug.

"You did the right thing," she whispered. "He doesn’t get to show up and demand your time anymore."

Fiona nodded against her mother’s shoulder, but the encounter had shaken her more than she wanted to admit. Martin’s visit had brought everything rushing back the passion, the pain, the complicated love she was still trying to bury.

She pulled out her phone and texted Caleb.

**Fiona:** Martin just showed up at the house. I didn’t let him in. I’m okay... but I need you.

Caleb’s reply came instantly.

**Caleb:** I’m on my way.

Martin stood outside the door.

He wasn’t going to leave until Fiona heard him out.

The porch light cast long shadows across the flowerbeds as he paced slowly back and forth, hands clenched at his sides. The cool night air did nothing to calm the storm raging inside him. He had driven here on impulse, but now that he was standing on her doorstep, every second of silence from inside the house felt like a personal rejection.

He knocked again — firmer this time, three sharp raps that echoed in the quiet street.

"Fiona," he called, voice low but urgent. "Please. Just open the door. Five minutes. That’s all I’m asking. You owe me that much after everything."

Inside the house, Fiona stood frozen in the hallway, arms wrapped tightly around herself. Elara stood beside her, one hand on her daughter’s shoulder, her expression hardened into protective steel.

"He’s not leaving," Fiona whispered, voice trembling with a mix of anger and exhaustion. "Mom, what do I do?"

Elara’s jaw tightened.

"You don’t have to do anything. This is your home. He has no right to show up here and demand your time after everything he’s put you through."

Martin knocked again, louder.

Fiona closed her eyes, tears burning behind her lids. Part of her — the part that still remembered the heat of his touch in the broken elevator, the way he had looked at her like she was the only thing that mattered — wanted to open the door. But the stronger part, the one protecting her heart and her unborn child, refused.

"I can’t," she whispered. "I won’t."

Elara nodded firmly and stepped toward the door.

Outside, Martin was preparing to knock again when headlights swept across the street. A sleek black car pulled up behind his own. The engine cut off, and Caleb Reed stepped out.

Caleb’s expression darkened the moment he saw Martin standing on Fiona’s porch. Rage flashed across his face — raw, protective, and barely contained. He slammed the car door and strode up the path with purposeful steps.

"What the hell are you doing here?" Caleb demanded, voice low and dangerous as he stopped a few feet away from Martin.

Martin turned slowly, surprise flickering across his features before he masked it with his usual commanding calm.

"Caleb Reed" he said, recognizing him from.the investigations he did. "This is between Fiona and me. It doesn’t concern you."

Caleb’s hands curled into fists at his sides. He took another step forward, eyes blazing.

"It concerns me because Fiona is now mine," he said, voice sharp and unwavering. "She’s done with you, Mole. She resigned. She walked away. And I don’t want to see you anywhere near her again. Not at her door. Not at her work. Not anywhere."

Martin’s jaw tightened, a flash of possessive anger crossing his face.

"You think you can just claim her?" he said, voice dropping dangerously low. "After everything that her and i share.

Caleb stepped even closer, his voice a low growl.

"She’s not yours anymore. She chose me. Stay the hell away from her, or we’ll have a much bigger problem than whatever power game you’re playing at Voss."

The two men stood locked in a tense standoff, the air thick with unspoken history and raw male rivalry. Martin’s eyes burned with frustration and something deeper regret, perhaps, or fear of truly losing her. Caleb’s posture was rigid, every muscle coiled like a man ready to protect what was his.

Inside the house, Fiona had moved to the window. She watched the confrontation with wide eyes, heart pounding. Elara stood beside her, one arm around her daughter’s shoulders.

"He came," Fiona whispered, voice shaky. "Caleb came."

Elara’s grip tightened protectively.

"Good. Let him handle this. You’ve carried enough."