"Roman, darling," she cooed. "You took so long at the office. I thought you’d never come back to me."

Roman’s face went from exhausted to absolutely horrified in 0.5 seconds. "Christy? What the hell are you doing in my bed? How did you get in here?"

"Does it matter?" she purred, sitting up slightly. "The staff already saw me come in. They think we're together. Why fight it?"

Behind the dressing room door, Macy was vibrating with so much fury she was practically humming.

Christy smirked, angling her phone with predatory precision. "You know what, Roman? One selfie posted everywhere is all it takes. My 'devastated' face next to your 'drunken' one will win your mother’s sympathy and finally kick that little PA out of your life for good."

Roman stood paralyzed, his jaw tight; he couldn't physically force her out without causing a scene. Christy tapped the camera app, ready to strike. Behind the frosted glass, Macy exchanged a sharp look with the others. Sebastian gave a curt, professional nod. Now.

Christy focused the lens, but as the screen flickered to life, she gasped. Framed perfectly behind Roman’s head were five very familiar, very angry faces. Roman followed her terrified gaze, nearly jumping out of his skin to find his entire team watching the drama unfold like a front-row audience at a bad play.

Roman stared at his entire executive team standing in his bedroom. "Macy? Everyone? What... is... happening?"

Christy’s face turned from triumph to a sickly shade of green. She clutched the duvet to her chest, her eyes darting between the five witnesses.

"First of all," Sophie marched right up to the bed and snatched the gold chain off Christy’s neck. "That’s mine, you thief."

"Second of all," Sebastian stepped forward, his 'Security Agent' voice booming. "Ms. Williams, I suggest you put your dress back on. Because not only are we all witnesses to this attempted frame-up, but I’ve been recording this entire conversation on my phone since you entered the room."

Christy’s bravado vanished instantly. 'I—I only did it because I want to marry Roman!' she stammered, her voice thin and desperate as she clutched the duvet tighter. 'I was just trying to make him see that we belong together!

Macy turned to Roman, a mischievous, terrifying grin on her face. "Roman, dear. Since Christy wants to be part of the 'Blackwood Family' so badly... I think we should give her exactly what she deserves."

Roman blinked, looking between his furious girlfriend and the shivering Christy. "And what’s that?"

Macy picked up the bucket of ice from the champagne Claire had brought. "A cold reality check."

The silence following the "ice treatment" was broken only by the sound of dripping water and Christy’s heavy, indignant breathing. Stunned into a rare silence, Christy stood shivering, the duvet damp and heavy around her shoulders. Macy’s eyes were cold but steady.

"Go," Macy said, her voice a calm command that brooked no argument. "Get dressed. Get out. And if you ever try a stunt like this again, I won't just use ice; I’ll use every legal and professional bridge I have to burn your reputation to the ground."

As Christy scrambled into the bathroom to retrieve her clothes, the clock on the bedside table ticked over to midnight. Suddenly, the doorbell chimed again. Sophie, still holding her reclaimed gold chain like a trophy, swung the door open.

Owen and Ezra marched in, carrying a massive, triple-layered chocolate cake with sparkling candles. "Happy Birthday, Roman!" they shouted in unison, their voices echoing in the high-ceilinged room.

The celebration came to a grinding halt as they spotted the disheveled Christy emerging from the bathroom, clutching her designer bag. Ezra blinked, his brow furrowed. "Who is this? Is she part of the guest list?"

"She’s the uninvited entertainment," Claire said, crossing her arms. She looked at Christy with a look of pure dismissal. "Leave. Now."

Christy didn’t wait for a second invitation. She shot a final, venomous glare at Macy and bolted from the room, her heels clicking frantically down the hallway.

Roman sat on the edge of the bed, his head in his hands, though a small, relieved smile was beginning to form. "So... that's why you were all hiding in my room? I thought you were actually abandoning me on my birthday."

"Abandon you? On the big 3-0?" Sebastian laughed, pulling a bag of streamers and decorations from behind his back. "We were going to decorate the suite before you got back from the office, but we didn't exactly account for the resident stalker."

"We should have reported her immediately," Julian added, looking toward the door. "We need to inform the hotel security."

Owen shook his head, placing the cake on the desk. "I’ll handle the hotel staff, Julian. Let the birthday boy actually enjoy a few minutes of peace. Sebastian and Julian, come with me—we need to make sure she actually left the premises."

The group spent a brief, warm hour celebrating. Roman blew out his candles, the light reflecting in his dark eyes as he looked at the circle of people who had become more than just employees; they were his shield. They exchanged small, thoughtful gifts—a high-end watch from Sebastian and Julian, a rare coding manual from Owen—before finally saying their goodnights.

The door clicked shut, leaving the suite in a soft, golden silence. Roman turned to Macy. The adrenaline of the confrontation had faded, replaced by a thick, magnetic tension.

"So," Roman murmured, his voice dropping an octave as he stepped into her space. "Everyone gave their presents. Where is yours, Ms. Rivers?"

Macy looked up at him, her heart hammering against her ribs. The teasing light in her eyes was softened by something much deeper—a fierce, protective love. "I am your present, Roman."

Roman’s hands found her waist, pulling her flush against him. "Is that so? Then I think I should unwrap my gift and see what’s inside."

"Happy Birthday, Roman," she whispered.

He leaned down, his lips meeting hers in a kiss that was no longer just a playful tease. It was a seal of a promise. In the quiet of the room, far away from the prying eyes of Christy or the pressures of the government, they finally moved beyond the boundaries they had set for themselves. It was the first time their connection became physical—a deep, rhythmic dance of trust and passion. For Roman, it felt like finally coming home after a lifetime of traveling; for Macy, it was the realization that the boy she used to prank had become the man she couldn't live without.

The next morning, the Roman’s team gathered for a late breakfast on the terrace. The ocean was a sparkling turquoise, but the mood at the table was serious. Owen joined them last after seeing Ezra off to the airport.

"I don't trust Christy," Roman said, leaning back as he stared at his coffee. "I wonder if she’s just obsessed with the past, or if she’s actually targeting the project."

"We were thinking the same thing," Claire noted. "Blackmail photos don't just hurt you personally, Roman. They make you a liability to the government. If you look unstable, they pull the contract."

Sebastian nodded, "She’s been in this hotel for three months, just like us. That’s not a coincidence. She’s been tracking our movements since day one."

"Where is she now?" Macy asked.

"Vacated," Julian replied. "The front desk said she checked out at 2:00 AM in a massive hurry."

"Should we call the police?" Sophie asked. "An investigation might uncover who she's working with."

"We can't involve the police on our own," Roman explained, his voice grave. "This is a government-tier project. If this involves espionage, we have to go through official channels first. Sebastian, can you flag this with the defense team?"

"On it," Sebastian promised. "I'll have them run a background check on her recent contacts to see if she’s a legitimate security threat."

Meanwhile, in a dimly lit restaurant several miles down the coast, the sound of harsh laughter echoed in a corner booth.

Blake leaned back, watching Christy with a mocking grin. She looked a mess—her eyes puffy, her hands trembling as she clutched a glass of water. "I thought you were a professional," Blake chuckled. "But you're an absolute waste, Christy. You’re going to spoil everything, including your father's entire empire, because you couldn't handle a simple setup."

"Watch your mouth!" Christy snapped, her voice cracking. "Your history with Roman and Macy isn't exactly a success story either. Don't act like you're the mastermind here."

Blake’s smile didn't fade; it just grew sharper, colder. "Okay, cool. You had your turn, and you failed. Now, I’ll plan it. We’re going to go with my strategy."

Christy leaned in, her desperation outweighing her pride. "Tell me. What is it?"

Blake leaned over the table, his voice dropping to a low, dangerous whisper as he began to outline a plan that had nothing to do with lingerie, and everything to do with total destruction.