My Fiancé Destroyed Ten Startups to Control Me

The phone call ends with a polite, corporate click that sounds like a guillotine dropping.

I stare at my reflection in the darkened screen of my laptop. That was the third rejection today. The hiring manager at TechFlow had been practically drooling over my portfolio this morning. Now? "We’ve received some concerning feedback regarding your previous partnerships. We can’t move forward."

My chest constricts. It’s not just the startups. Leo isn’t just killing my businesses; he’s salting the earth so nothing else can grow. I’m radioactive.

My phone pings. Not a text—an encrypted email notification. Sender: *Anonymous*.

I open it. A video file loads, buffering for a heartbeat before playing.

On screen, a woman who looks exactly like me sits in a dimly lit office. She’s snorting a line of white powder off a mahogany desk, laughing manicially while stuffing stacks of cash into a purse.

"I can’t believe they haven’t caught me yet," the digital Aurora says. The voice is mine. The cadence is mine. But the eyes—they’re dead pixels.

Below the video, a message from Iris: *Sign the NDA. Come home to Leo. Or this goes to TechCrunch tomorrow morning.*

Nausea roils in my gut. I stumble back from the desk, knocking over a stack of books.

Kai is there in a second, catching me by the shoulders. "Aurora?"

I point at the screen, unable to speak. He watches the video, his expression hardening from concern to icy calculation. He doesn't ask if it's real. He knows me.

He leans over the keyboard, fingers flying. "Deepfake. High quality, probably generated using the footage from your webinars." He points to a shadow near the jawline. "See that artifacting? The lighting source on the face doesn't match the ambient room light. The metadata is scrubbed, but the encoding signature is sloppy."

"It doesn't matter if it's fake," I whisper. "If that leaks, my reputation is incinerated."

"We need leverage," Kai says, his voice low and dangerous. "I can trace the origin server, prove it came from Iris's IP. But I need time."

My phone buzzes again. Leo.

*I have your hard drives. The original source code for VelvetStyle and the encryption keys. Come to the penthouse. We’ll sign the release, and I’ll stop the blacklisting. One hour.*

"Don't," Kai says, reading over my shoulder. "It's a trap, Aurora."

"That code is my only leverage. It's three years of my life." I grab my coat, my hands trembling but my resolve hardening into something brittle. "I have to end this."

***

The elevator ride to the penthouse feels like an ascent to the gallows. When the doors slide open, the scent of expensive scotch and stale air hits me.

Leo is standing by the floor-to-ceiling window, looking out at the city he thinks he owns. He’s not wearing his suit jacket. His tie is loosened, top button undone—a level of disarray I haven’t seen in seven years.

"Where are the drives?" I ask, keeping my hand on the elevator door sensor.

He turns. His eyes are glassy, red-rimmed. He smiles, but it doesn't reach those cold, shark-like eyes. "You came."

He taps a command on his phone. Behind me, the elevator doors force shut, overriding my hand. The heavy metallic *thud* echoes in the silence.

"Leo, unlock the doors."

"We need to talk, Aurora." He takes a step toward me, swaying slightly. "You’re confused. You’re listening to that loser Jackson. You don't know what's good for you."

"I want my code."

"It’s *our* code!" He slams his hand against the wall, the sound cracking like a whip. "Everything you have is because of me! You think you’re independent? You’re nothing without my money!"

He lunges.

I dodge, adrenaline spiking, and sprint for the master bathroom. I slam the door and twist the lock just as his body collides with the wood.

"Open the door!" He pounds on it, the hinges rattling. "You’re not leaving! We are destined, Aurora! You can’t just walk away from seven years!"

I back away until my legs hit the marble tub. My fingers fumble with my phone.

*SOS. He locked me in.*

Three seconds later, Kai replies: *On it.*

"Aurora!" Leo’s voice shifts from rage to a pathetic, weeping beg. "Please. I just want to protect you. Why can’t you see that?"

The doorknob jiggles violently. I look around for a weapon—a heavy perfume bottle, a hair dryer—anything.

Suddenly, a deafening screech tears through the apartment.

*WHOOP. WHOOP. WHOOP.*

Strobe lights flash from the ceiling. A robotic voice blares: *FIRE EMERGENCY DETECTED. EVACUATE IMMEDIATELY. ALL LOCKS DISENGAGED.*

The smart-lock on the bathroom door clicks open.

I don’t hesitate. I throw the door open, shoving past a bewildered Leo who is covering his ears against the piercing alarm. I sprint through the living room. The front door is unlocked, the security system overridden by the fire protocol.

I burst into the hallway and nearly collide with a chest heaving for breath.

Kai. He’s drenched in sweat, a laptop bag slung over his shoulder.

"Stairs!" he yells over the siren.

He grabs my hand. His grip is solid, warm, grounding. We hit the stairwell running, taking the steps two at a time. Forty flights. My lungs burn, my legs scream, but I don't stop.

"He was drunk," I gasp, swinging around the twentieth landing. "He wouldn't let me leave."

"He won't touch you again," Kai vows, not looking back.

We spill out onto the street, gasping for air, lost in the crowd of evacuated tenants. The cool night air has never tasted so sweet. I look at Kai—his messy hair, the fierce protectiveness in his eyes—and for the first time in seven years, I feel the cage bars dissolve.