Mag-log inThe heavy brass handle turned with a agonizing, deliberate click.Sophia’s instincts kicked in before her brain could fully register the sheer panic coursing through her veins. In one swift, desperate motion, she slammed the laptop lid shut, pulled the black USB drive from the port, and shoved it deep into the pocket of her trousers.The heavy mahogany door swung open.Ronan stood in the doorway. His suit jacket was gone, his dark hair was slightly tousled, and the top two buttons of his crisp white shirt were unfastened, revealing the sharp line of his collarbone. He looked slightly less like the terrifying billionaire CEO who had just commanded an empire at his grandfather’s bedside, and more like a man weighed down by the suffocating secrets of his own making.His cold, silver-grey eyes swept across the dimly lit suite, locking onto Sophia, who stood frozen by the desk."You're still awake," Ronan said, his deep baritone rumbling through the quiet room.Sophia forced her hands to r
The air in the VIP executive suite vanished in an instant.Sophia’s heart dropped into a bottomless abyss, her pulse hammering so violently in her ears that it drowned out the steady, rhythmic beep of the heart monitor. Arthur Drake’s fingers remained clamped around her wrist like a steel manacle, his sharp, ancient eyes burning into hers with a terrifying mixture of amusement and malice.He knows.The thought screamed through her head, sending a wave of nausea crashing over her. The room seemed to tilt beneath her feet. Tristan Holt was Ronan’s disowned younger brother? Or cousin? The connection twisted through her brain, making her head spin. Ronan hadn't just stepped in to save her out of nowhere; this was a war inside the Drake family empire, and she had naively walked straight into the line of fire.Sophia opened her mouth to speak, to utter some desperate lie to defend herself, but her throat felt as dry as ashes. Not a single sound escaped her lips.Behind her, Ronan didn't fli
Sophia’s fingers trembled so violently she could barely close the clasp of the velvet box.The massive, flawless diamond caught the dim lamplight of the suite, casting cold, prismatic reflections across the silk sheets. It weighed heavily on her ring finger—a physical brand of ownership sealing her fate."I don't have a choice, do I?" she whispered, her voice tight with suppressed panic."None at all," Ronan replied, his expression an unreadable mask of absolute authority. "Five minutes. Downstairs in the foyer. Do not keep me waiting."He spun on his heel and strode out of the room, leaving the door slightly ajar.Sophia didn't have a second to breathe. She ripped off her silk robe, yanked on a pair of sleek black trousers and a high-necked cashmere sweater from the walk-in closet, and pinned her dark hair into a swift, professional chignon. She checked her reflection one last time in the mirror—pale, composed, wearing a billionaire's engagement ring—before rushing down the grand sta
The quiet click of the heavy mahogany door closing behind Ronan echoed through the library like a gilded prison gate snapping shut. Sophia remained sitting in the leather chair, her breath coming in shallow, ragged gasps. She was still wearing her white lace wedding gown—the intricate pearl train now grey, torn, and disheveled, the veil hanging loosely from her dark hair. She stared down at the desk where the duplicate copy of the contract lay open. Her signature, Sophia Sterling, looked sharp and final in blue ink at the bottom of every page. Three million dollars. Her mother was in the operating room at St. Jude Memorial right now because of that ink. The $300,000 medical deposit was settled, the specialized neurosurgical team was assembled, and Eleanor had a fighting chance at survival. Before Sophia could even process the crushing weight of what she had just agreed to, a soft knock sounded at the library doors. An older woman wearing a crisp black housekeeper’s uniform
Ronan’s POVThe penthouse office of Drake Global sat on the sixty-fifth floor, overlooking the rain-slicked city skyline. The room was silent except for the faint hum of the air filtration system and the steady ticking of a grandfather clock.Ronan Drake stood behind his massive obsidian desk, adjusting his platinum cufflinks. He was six-foot-three, built with the broad shoulders and dangerous grace of a man who spent his rare spare hours in a boxing ring rather than a social lounge. His thick dark hair was brushed back immaculately, and his sharp jawline looked as though it had been carved out of stone.On the leather sofa across from him sat his grandfather’s personal attorney, holding a signed codicil to the Drake family trust."Your grandfather’s condition is deteriorating rapidly, Ronan," the lawyer said gravely. "The doctors at St. Jude give him less than six months. His final demand remains unchanged: before he passes, he wants to see an heir secured to protect Drake Global fro
The sharp, sterile scent of rubbing alcohol and bleach hit Sophia the second she burst through the automatic sliding doors of the St. Jude Memorial Hospital emergency wing.She was still wearing her white lace wedding gown, the intricate pearl train now grey and tattered from being dragged through hotel lobbies and taxi stands. Heads turned immediately across the crowded waiting room. Tattered brides in emergency rooms were not a common sight, but Sophia didn't care about the staring eyes. Her heart was beating so hard against her ribs that every breath felt like inhaling shattered glass."Eleanor Sterling!" Sophia gasped out, clutching the high marble reception counter. Her knuckles were white, her eyes wild and bloodshot. "Please... my mother! She was brought in by ambulance from the cathedral!"The nurse behind the desk checked her monitor and directed her straight to the third-floor ICU.When the elevator doors slid open on the third floor, a tall, sharp-featured man in dark navy







