THE NIGHT BEFORE THE STORM

CHAPTER ONE

Summer, 2026

The private jet had barely touched the runway when Romen Draven unfastened his seat belt and looked through the window.

The sky was turning darker with every passing minute, and the warm summer air waited outside the aircraft, but all Romen could think about was how badly he wanted a hot shower and several hours of sleep. He had spent the last six days traveling for a major business deal, moving from one meeting to another without giving himself enough time to breathe.

The deal was finally closed, his work was done, and for once he had no reason to stay away from home. He should have gone straight to his family, but when his phone lit up with several missed calls, the tiredness in his eyes was replaced by a faint crease between his brows.

Most of the calls were from the office, but three were from his mother. Romen stared at her name for a moment before calling her back. She answered so quickly that he couldn't help smiling.

"Romen? Where are you? Are you still at the airport?"

Her voice carried the kind of warmth that could make him forget how exhausted he was. Romen leaned back against his seat and closed his eyes for a second.

"I'm still here, Mom. I just landed." Amelia immediately asked him to come home, reminding him that he had been gone for almost a week and that she had been waiting to have dinner with him.

Romen promised her he would come home that evening, but when she asked him to come directly from the airport, he hesitated.

"I'll come, Mom. I just need to stop at the office first."

She knew that tone. It was the same tone he used whenever work had already won an argument before she had even started it. She sighed, but there was a smile in her voice when she said,

"One day, I'm going to lock your office doors myself." Romen laughed softly.

"I'll see you tonight." He ended the call and stared at the screen for another moment, feeling a small sense of guilt for disappointing her yet again.

Romen Draven was thirty-one and the CEO of Draven House, the country's number-one luxury clothing company. He had taken over the company at twenty-seven and, in only a few years, had turned an already successful name into an international fashion empire. His face was familiar in business magazines, his name appeared regularly beside billion-dollar deals, and his reputation for being cold, demanding, and brutally honest had made people careful around him. Romen didn't care much about what people thought. He had learned early that success came with opinions, and he had no intention of wasting his time answering every one of them.

The car was waiting when he stepped out of the jet. His driver opened the door, but before Romen got inside, he glanced once toward the road that would take him home. His mother's voice was still somewhere in the back of his mind, asking him to come home. He almost changed his mind. Almost. Then he remembered the calls from the office and the unfinished work waiting for him.

"Take me to Draven House," he said quietly, and the driver nodded without asking questions.

Oliver Hayes was waiting for him at the private entrance of the company. The moment he saw Romen step out of the car, he looked him up and down and gave a slow shake of his head.

"Six days away, and you somehow look worse than when you left." Romen gave him a tired glance while taking the files Oliver was holding.

"Good to see you too." Oliver smiled and followed him inside.

"I would say I missed you, but then I'd be lying." Romen almost smiled, but the expression disappeared before it could fully form. Oliver noticed anyway. He always did.

He was Romen's secretary during office hours and his best friend everywhere else, which was probably the reason he was still alive after saying things that no other employee would dare say. Still, the moment they entered the executive floor, Oliver straightened his posture and returned to his professional voice.

"Sir, the contracts from Milan are ready, the investors moved the meeting to tomorrow morning, and your father called twice." Romen stopped walking.

"My father?" Oliver nodded.

"He didn't say why." Something in Romen's expression changed. It was small, but Oliver knew him well enough to notice.

"Did he sound angry?" Oliver thought for a second.

"Not exactly." Romen waited. Oliver lowered his voice. "He sounded... worried."

Romen didn't answer. He walked into his office and placed the files on the desk, but his attention was no longer on the paperwork. His father's calls were unusual enough, but the word worried stayed in his mind. Victor Draven wasn't a man who worried easily. He was calm under pressure, experienced enough to handle a crisis without letting it show, and usually the person everyone else depended on when things went wrong. Romen picked up his phone and called him before he could overthink it.

Victor answered after the second ring.

"Where are you?" His voice was sharper than usual, and Romen immediately noticed it.

"At the office." There was a short silence.

"You came back today?" Victor asked.

"Yes. I finished the deal earlier than expected." Romen loosened his tie and sat behind his desk, watching the evening light fall across the room.

"I thought you'd be happy to have me back." Victor didn't laugh. Instead, he asked why Romen hadn't told him about changing his flight. Romen's patience began to wear thin.

"Dad, I didn't think I needed permission to change a flight." Victor went quiet again, and this time Roman sat straighter. There was something wrong.

"What is it?" he asked, his voice softer.

"Nothing." Romen frowned.

"You're a terrible liar." For a moment, neither of them spoke. Finally, Victor exhaled and told him to come home after the evening's event. Romen agreed, but before he could ask anything else, Victor ended the call.

Romen kept the phone against his ear for another second before slowly lowering it. His eyes remained fixed on the dark screen, and the uneasy feeling in his chest refused to disappear.

He couldn't explain it, but his father's voice had reminded him of something he couldn't quite place. It wasn't anger. It wasn't even concern. There had been hesitation in it, as if Victor had almost said something and then changed his mind. Romen hated unanswered questions, especially when they involved his family.

At home, Amelia was standing near the living room window when Victor entered. She watched him place his phone on the table and walk past her without saying anything.

"That was Romen, wasn't it?" she asked. Victor stopped for a moment before nodding.

"He's coming home later." Amelia smiled, relieved.

"Good. I haven't seen him properly since he left." Victor didn't respond. Instead, he walked toward the window and stood there with his hands behind his back.

Amelia studied him quietly. She had known her husband for more than three decades, and she knew every small habit he had when something was troubling him. Tonight, he kept rubbing his thumb against the edge of his watch and glancing toward the front door as if he were expecting someone.

"Victor," she said gently, walking closer.

"What's wrong?" He turned toward her and forced a smile that didn't reach his eyes.

"Nothing." Amelia didn't believe him. She reached for his hand, and the moment her fingers touched his, she felt a slight tremor. Her expression changed.

"Your hands are shaking." Victor

immediately pulled his hand back, almost too quickly.

"I'm tired." Amelia stared at him for several seconds before asking,

"Is this about Romen?" Victor looked away.

"No." His answer came too fast. She knew there was more to it, but she also knew pushing him now would only make him shut down completely. Instead, she whispered,

"Whatever you're carrying, you don't have to carry it alone." Victor looked at her, and for a brief moment something vulnerable appeared in his eyes. Then it disappeared.

"I know." He walked toward his study, leaving Amelia alone in the living room with a question she had been carrying for years.

She watched the door close behind him and slowly sat down. There were moments when she felt as though her husband was still searching for something that had disappeared from their lives long ago. Twenty years had passed, yet every now and then, the same restless look returned to his face. Amelia had never understood what he was looking for. She only knew that whenever the past came too close, Victor became a different man.

THE Beaumont EVENING

The celebration was already crowded when Elara Night arrived with her friend.

Soft music filled the elegant hall while waiters moved between guests, and the warm summer evening outside had left a faint glow across the tall glass windows. Elara stepped inside, looked around once, and quietly said,

"I knew I shouldn't have come." Her friend Ava laughed and reminded her that she had been saying the same thing since they left the house. Elara smiled and adjusted the bracelet around her wrist.

"Because I was right."

She had never been fond of crowded social events, especially the kind where every conversation somehow turned into business. As the CEO of Night Atelier, the country's number-two luxury clothing company, she attended enough formal events to know exactly how exhausting they could be.

Elara was only twenty-five, but she had been running Night Atelier since she was twenty-three. She had inherited more than a company; she had inherited expectations. People had expected her to fail because of her age, and she had spent the last two years making sure they regretted doubting her. She was confident, intelligent,

beautiful, and completely comfortable in her own skin. But there was a softer, more playful side to her that rarely appeared in front of cameras. Around people she trusted, Elara could be ridiculous, loud, teasing, and so easily amused that her serious CEO image disappeared within minutes.

Ava leaned closer and whispered,

"You know who's going to be here, right?"

Elara immediately knew who she meant. Her smile faded for half a second before she recovered.

"Don't say his name." Ava laughed.

"Romen." Elara gave her an annoyed look.

"I said don't say it." "You really hate him, don't you?"

Elara looked across the room, and her eyes landed on the man she had spent the last two years competing against. Romen stood near the other guests, looking every bit as serious and intimidating as the magazines described him. Elara watched him for a moment before quietly saying,

"I don't hate him." Her friend raised an eyebrow.

"Then?" Elara looked away.

"I just don't like him." The answer sounded convincing enough to her, but the small flutter she felt in her stomach when Romen turned his head in her direction was something she preferred not to think about.

Romen had arrived with Oliver and his younger brother, Lucas. Lucas was twenty-five, cheerful, naturally funny, and almost annoyingly positive. He had none of his brother's intimidating seriousness, and he seemed to enjoy teasing Romen more than anyone else.

The moment Lucas noticed Elara, he leaned toward Oliver and quietly said something that made Oliver smile. Romen looked at them with suspicion.

"What?" he asked. Lucas tried to keep a straight face.

"Nothing." Oliver immediately looked away, but the smile on his face betrayed him. Romen's eyes narrowed.

"You're both terrible liars." Lucas laughed and glanced toward Elara again.

"I was just thinking tonight might actually be interesting."

Romen followed his gaze, and the moment his eyes found Elara, his expression changed almost imperceptibly.

He had seen her countless times before. Across conference tables. At business meetings. At fashion events where their companies fought for the same contracts. He knew she was stubborn, ambitious, and far too confident for his liking.

But tonight, seeing her laughing with her friend, relaxed and completely unaware of how many people were watching her, made something unfamiliar settle in his chest. He couldn't decide whether it was curiosity or irritation. Either way, he found himself looking at her longer than he intended.

Elara noticed.

Their eyes met across the room. For a moment, neither of them moved.

Then Elara gave him a small, almost challenging smile before turning back toward Ava.

Romen's mouth curved slightly. Lucas saw it. He immediately leaned closer to Oliver.

"Did you see that?" Oliver nodded.

"Should we tell him?"

"Absolutely not."

Romen glanced at them.

"I can still hear you."

Lucas smiled innocently.

"That's unfortunate."

Oliver lowered his head to hide his laugh.

Romen shook his head, but there was a trace of amusement in his expression now. He didn't know that within the next few minutes, the woman he had spent years treating as his biggest rival would become the one person in the room he couldn't seem to ignore.

And Elara had no idea that the man she had spent years resenting was about to become the biggest complication in her carefully controlled life.

She walked toward him with her friend beside her, trying to convince herself that her heartbeat was completely normal.

It wasn't.

And neither of them knew that somewhere beyond the bright lights of the celebration, someone was watching them both.

Someone who had been waiting for this night.

Someone who knew that once Romen Draven and Elara Night crossed paths in the right place at the right time, the past would no longer stay buried.

But for now, neither Romen nor Elara knew what was coming.

They only knew one thing.

They had met before.

Tonight, something felt different.

To be continued...

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