Aurora arrived at Rora AI at 6:30 AM.
The office was empty. Exactly how she wanted it.
She made coffee in the break room—strong, black, scalding. Carried it to her office. Closed the door. Sat at her desk and—
Her phone exploded.
Not literally. But close.
Notifications flooded the screen. Twitter. Instagram. LinkedIn. Email. Text messages from numbers she didn't recognize.
Aurora frowned. Unlocked her phone.
Twitter trending: #InnovationVsLegacy, #AuroraAndLiam, #OrlandoDance
Her stomach dropped.
She clicked the first link.
A video. Crystal clear. Professional quality—someone had filmed it from the balcony overlooking the dance floor.
Aurora and Liam. Dancing. Close.
Too close.
The video showed everything. The way he'd pulled her in. The way her hand had slid to his nape. The way they'd moved together like they'd done it a thousand times. The way they'd been talking—heads bent close, intimate, like no one else existed.
The way it had looked so much more than a professional dance between competitors.
The caption read: "Innovation vs. Legacy just got PERSONAL. Look at the way he's holding her. Look at the way she's looking at him. These two are NOT just rivals. #OrlandoDance"
40,000 retweets. 150,000 likes.
Aurora scrolled through the comments.
"I SHIP IT. I don't even know who these people are but I SHIP IT."
"Wait aren't they supposed to hate each other? This does not look like hate."
"The sexual tension is INSANE. Someone write the enemies-to-lovers fanfic immediately."
"My man is holding her like she's about to disappear. Sir. SIR."
"Why are they dancing like they're about to kiss? Weren't they just destroying each other on that panel??"
"Plot twist: they've been dating this whole time and the rivalry is just marketing."
Aurora's hand tightened on her phone.
She clicked another link. An article from TechGossip—a trashy industry blog that thrived on drama.
"AURORA CASTILLO AND LIAM ASHFORD: SECRET ROMANCE OR STRATEGIC ALLIANCE?"
"The tech world's fiercest rivals were spotted getting cozy at the Orlando Tech Summit's evening reception. Sources say the two danced for nearly ten minutes, 'whispering to each other' and 'looking very comfortable.' This comes just hours after a contentious panel where Castillo called legacy companies 'outdated' and Ashford defended his family's forty-year history. So what's really going on? Are these two playing us? Is the rivalry fake? Or is there something more happening behind closed doors?"
Aurora felt sick.
She clicked through more posts. More videos. Different angles. Close-ups of their faces. GIFs of the moment Liam's hand had tightened at her waist. Slow-motion clips of her fingers in his hair.
All of it dissected. Analyzed. Shipped.
Rage boiled in her chest. White-hot and vicious.
This. This was what came out of that night? Not justice. Not acknowledgment of what he'd done. Not consequences for his cowardice or his father's crimes.
Just dating rumors. Just speculation about a romance between her and the person who'd destroyed her life.
She'd had a mental breakdown on a bathroom floor because of him. Because of one word that had ripped fifteen years of scars wide open.
And the internet thought it was romantic.
Her office door flew open.
Ricky stood there. Tablet in hand. Face thunderous.
"Explain," he said. Voice flat. "Right now."
Aurora set down her phone. "Good morning to you too."
"Don't." Ricky slammed the tablet on her desk. It showed the same video. The same comments. "Explain what the hell this is."
"It's a dance, Ricky. People dance at receptions—"
"Not like that. You're practically wrapped around him." He pointed at the screen. "And he's holding you like he owns you. So I'm going to ask you one more time. What happened?"
Aurora stood. Moved to the window. Stared out at Manhattan waking up.
"He asked me to dance. I said yes. We danced. That's all."
"That's all?" Ricky's voice rose. "Rora, look at the video. You're looking at him like you don't hate him."
"I do hate him."
"Do you? Because I've had six calls from reporters asking if you two are secretly dating." Ricky leaned forward. Hands flat on her desk. "So tell me the truth. Is something going on between you and Liam Ashford?"
Aurora's head snapped around. "No. Absolutely not."
"Then explain the dance. Explain why people are saying you two have 'insane chemistry' and 'look like you're in love.'" His voice cracked. "Why does it look like you two are three seconds away from ripping each other's clothes off in the middle of a professional event? Explain why I had to find out from Twitter that you were practically making out with the man we're supposed to be destroying."
"We weren't making out—"
"You were close enough! Your hand is in his hair, Rora. His thumb is on your spine. You're looking at him like—" Ricky stopped. "Like you've forgotten what he did."
Aurora's chest tightened. "I haven't forgotten anything."
"Haven't you? Because this doesn't look like revenge. This looks like something else entirely."
"It was strategy."
"Bullshit." Ricky moved closer. "What happened during that dance that made you flee the city at six AM?"
Aurora turned back to the window. Couldn't look at him.
"Nothing. We danced. I left early. That's all."
"That's not all. Something scared you. And I need to know what it was." Ricky's voice softened slightly. "Aurora. Please. Is he getting to you?"
"No."
"Then why won't you tell me what happened? Why won't you look at me?"
"Because there's nothing to tell—"
"Is the plan still on?" Ricky's voice went hard again. "Or have you changed your mind?"
"The plan is on."
"Are you sure? Because it doesn't look like it. It looks like you're getting distracted." He gestured at the tablet. "It looks like he's getting under your skin."
"He's not—"
"Isn't he? Because that video says otherwise." Ricky's jaw clenched. "Tell me one thing. Did you feel something? During that dance?"
Aurora met his eyes. Saw the hurt there. The jealousy. The fear.
"Richard—"
"Did you?"
She couldn't answer.
"That's what I thought." His voice went quiet. Defeated. "What did he say to you? During the dance. What did he say that made you run?"
Aurora's throat tightened. She couldn't tell him. Couldn't explain that one word had shattered everything.
"It doesn't matter," she said finally.
"It matters to me." Ricky's voice cracked. "Because watching you dance with him—watching you look at him like that—it made me realize that I—" He stopped. Looked away. "Never mind."
"You what?"
"Look, I care about you, okay?" The words came out harsh. Frustrated. "And I can't—I can't watch you fall for him."
Aurora's chest tightened. "Ricky—"
"I need to go." He grabbed his tablet. Headed for the door.
"Wait—"
The door closed behind him.
Aurora stood alone in her office. Stared at her phone. At the video still playing on loop.
The way Liam had held her. The way she'd leaned into him. The way they'd looked like so much more than rivals.
The comments scrolling past.
"They're definitely in love and just don't know it yet."
"This is enemies to lovers and I'm HERE for it."
"The way he's looking at her??? Excuse me?"
Aurora's hands curled into fists.
No.
This wasn't love. This wasn't romance. This wasn't some enemies-to-lovers fairy tale.
This was a girl who'd been assaulted and betrayed and dismissed, spending fifteen years clawing her way to power so she could destroy the people who'd destroyed her.
And now the internet was turning it into a shipping meme.
The rage crystallized. Sharp. Cold. Focused.
She pulled out her phone. Looked at Liam's last message.
Liam: I'm heading back to New York tomorrow. Coffee when I get back? No business talk. Just coffee.
Aurora set her phone face-down on the desk.
And felt the rage burn hotter.
Because that's all it was. All it could ever be.
Revenge.
Not romance. Not forgiveness. Not some second-chance love story.
Aurora pulled up her laptop.
Emotion is information, Evelyn Cross had said once, in an interview Aurora had watched at twenty-five on a secondhand phone. The woman who learns to read it instead of suppress it will always outthink the woman who doesn't.
Aurora read what she was feeling.
Catalogued it. Converted it.
Then she opened the revenge file.
Time to escalate.