Beneath Her Ice

Will was elbow-deep in paperwork when Jan stormed into the nonprofit's shared workspace, coat barely shrugged off, her eyes flaring with quiet fury.

"She did what?"Jan dropped into the chair across from him. "You haven't heard?"

He pushed his laptop aside. "Heard what?"

"Eliza Darcy. Supposedly, she intervened to shut down Charlotte's relationship with me. For optics. Some investor didn't like Charlotte dating a pediatrician who 'isn't branded for synergy.' Whatever that means."

Will sat back slowly, his chest tightening. "Are you sure?"

"She hasn't spoken to Charlotte in days. And Charlotte's been weird. Defensive. Says it's complicated. It's always complicated with billionaires, isn't it?"

Will's jaw flexed. He thought of Eliza's stare — cool, cutting — and her voice when she asked What do I get?

Maybe he should've seen it coming.

He stood up, restlessly pacing between cluttered desks and half-dissembled whiteboards. "She said she'd consider our proposal. Maybe she already made up her mind — about everything."

Jan gave him a look. "Will, I like you, but you're dangerously close to becoming the guy who mistakes coldness for clarity."

"She called our sector charity cosplay."

"She also saved your sister's job last month when her clinic funding fell through — anonymously."

Will blinked. "What?"

Jan shrugged. "I overheard it. She paid off the lease and left no signature. But only one person moves money like that and doesn't want credit."

He didn't answer. Couldn't.

Because part of him still saw Eliza Darcy as the woman who dismissed him at a gala. But another part — the part he hated admitting existed — remembered the flicker in her eyes when he told her You get to matter.

⏳ Meanwhile, across Midtown...

Eliza clicked through quarterly slides with the precision of a sniper. Her assistant spoke, but the words blurred.

All she could hear were Charlotte's last text messages.

He thinks I broke it off because of you.I didn't.But I didn't defend you either. I didn't know how.

Eliza closed her laptop with a soft snap. "Cancel the rest of my afternoon."

"But—"

"I said cancel it."

She didn't go home. She didn't go to the office. She went there.

To the nonprofit center in Brooklyn.

A place where WiFi glitched and elevators creaked, but the halls echoed with laughter and purpose.

She stood behind the glass, watching.

Will was inside. Talking to a room full of teenage volunteers, animated and alive in a way that didn't need applause.

She didn't walk in. She didn't need to be seen.

Because standing in the darkened hallway, she realized something both frustrating and magnetic:

Will Bennett didn't care who she was.

And yet, for some reason she couldn't name...

She wanted him to.