Jackie Zheng의 작품

The next morning at 6:00 AM. Upper East Side, Voss Tower, rooftop infinity pool.Landon Voss sliced through the water like a shark, sprinting the final fifty meters. The sound of water breaking was sharp as a blade. As he surfaced, his assistant handed him an encrypted tablet. The screen was frozen on a surveillance capture from the Long Island estate last night:Kai Reyes carrying a nearly naked Ava into a bedroom. Under the moonlight, the chains on the back of her gown were broken. Her white back was covered in fresh scratches and kiss marks. There were suspicious wet patches on her inner thighs. Kai’s hand gripped the small of her back, fingers digging deep into her flesh, as if trying to crush her.Landon stared at the photo for ten full seconds. His pupils contracted to pinpoints. In the next second, he crushed the tablet with his bare hand. Shards and blood dripped from his fingers into the pool, dying the water crimson.The assistant didn't dare breathe.Landon grabbed a towel,

Three days later, the private Rosier estate on Long Island transformed into a fortress of light and excess.Officially, the event was billed as an "Emergency Shareholder Appreciation Gala," a desperate PR stunt designed to calm the nerves of jittery investors following a turbulent week on the market. But beneath the surface of crystal flutes and forced laughter, everyone in the inner circle knew the truth. This was not a celebration. It was a hunting ground.This was the final gambit by Alexander and Victoria—a last-ditch, scorched-earth attempt to drag Ava off her throne before she could cement her control over the family empire.The ballroom was a sea of black ties and designer silk, a low hum of gossip vibrating against the vaulted ceilings. Then, the double doors swung open.When Ava appeared at the top of the grand staircase, the room didn't just go quiet; the silence hit with the physical force of a shockwave. For three full seconds, not a glass clinked, not a breath was drawn.

Three days later, thirty minutes before the opening bell on Wall Street, Rosier Holdings' stock price lit up like dry kindling soaked in gasoline.Ava had used only one move: she took the Rosier family’s prime beachfront land in Florida—an asset that had sat dormant for twenty years—and mortgaged it to JPMorgan under the guise of "internal restructuring." In exchange, she secured a $3 billion low-interest loan. She then immediately dumped that capital into a biopharmaceutical company teetering on bankruptcy.That company just happened to hold the patent for a new pulmonary fibrosis drug in FDA Phase 3 trials. It was the only drug that could save her mother, Nora.The market smelled blood. Retail investors went into a frenzy; institutions swept in. Rosier Holdings skyrocketed 27% in three days, its market cap returning to the hundred-billion-dollar club overnight.Ava sat on the bench outside the VIP ward, wearing a black high-necked sweater that covered her chin. The only thing she co

At 12:03 AM, the phone in her palm vibrated once.[Voss Private Bank: $200,000,000.00 Received]Ava stared at the cold string of numbers, her fingers trembling uncontrollably. Not from excitement, but because her inner thighs were still throbbing. Every slight movement aggravated the tearing sensation where Landon had been so rough. The air seemed to still cling to his scent: cedar mixed with tobacco, and the heavier, sharper musk of sex.She sat in the back of a taxi downstairs from Landon’s office. Her dress was ruined beyond repair. The trench coat was buttoned crookedly, barely hiding the fresh, teeth-bruised purple marks on her neck and collarbone. The driver kept glancing at her in the rearview mirror. She ignored him, pressing her forehead against the freezing window, letting the cold glass suppress the residual heat in her body.Closing her eyes, the scenes from five hours ago looped in her mind like a broken film.The moment Landon pressed her against the floor-to-ceiling win

At 4:00 AM the next day, Manhattan was still asleep. Only the wind off the Hudson River, carrying the scent of salt and brine, scraped through the empty streets.Ava stood in front of the private elevator on the 88th floor of the Voss Tower. Her black trench coat was wrapped tight, her hair still dripping. She had no appointment, no assistant. Just a thin checkbook and the resolve of someone marching to their execution.The elevator doors slid open silently. The security system had already received Landon's command.Stepping onto the top floor, she was hit by a wave of cold air mixed with cedar and tobacco.The office was absurdly large. Three walls of floor-to-ceiling windows overlooked New York City like a floating throne. Behind a central black ebony desk, Landon Voss sat with his back to her. His suit jacket was draped over his chair, shirt sleeves rolled up to his forearms, revealing cold, hard muscle. He didn't turn around. He simply raised a hand and snapped his fingers. Half t

Three days later, the vultures finally descended to tear away the last shred of dignity the family had left.Alexander Rosier had summoned every member of the direct bloodline to the Hamptons estate, a sprawling, white seaside mansion built in the roaring 1920s. It had once belonged to a railroad tycoon, a monument to the Gilded Age, but today it felt like a mausoleum. The structure was merely a hollow shell of pomp, rotting from the inside out. The July afternoon sun was toxic, a blinding white heat that threatened to melt the asphalt of the driveway, yet inside the conference room, the temperature had been cranked down so low it felt like a morgue.Ava arrived last.She had made a deliberate choice not to change. She wore the same black silk dress that had been ruined three days ago, the fabric stiff with dried vintage wine. Over it, she had thrown a men’s black trench coat, oversized and severe, the collar pulled up high to obscure the mottled bruises blooming on her neck—souvenirs