Chapter 4

Juniper

The Vangough place? It was solid gold and sleek stone, way different from the crummy prison Tristan called home. When those gates groaned open, it felt like a ton of bricks lifted off me. I'd been walking on eggshells for four freakin' years, cooking food he wouldn't touch, cleaning floors he sneered at. I hid who I was, my skills, even my real name.

But now? I was Juniper Vangough again.

"Welcome back, Miss Juniper," said Thomas, the head butler, bowing so low he nearly kissed the ground. The other servants were lined up, perfect as could be.

I stared at my hands. Still ghostly. My body was still sore from that surgery Tristan ignored. Yet, a fire burned in my blood. "Good to be back, Thomas. My stuff from the hospital – it's in my wing?"

"Yes, Miss. Your father's waiting in the study."

Walking through those halls, my heels clicked a war song against the stone. I pushed into the study and saw my dad, Marcus Vangough. Older, tougher than I remembered. A lion who'd seen too much stuff, and seeing his only girl all beat up lit a dangerous fire in his eyes.

"Juniper," he rumbled, voice thick. No waiting for me. He crossed the room and hugged me tight, but carefully. "That jerk. I should've wiped his building off the map the minute you split."

"Nah, Dad," I said, pulling back, looking straight at him. "If you smash him, it's your win. I want him to know it's mine. I want him to watch me standing tall as he eats dirt."

Dad smiled, cold and proud. "That's my girl. What do you want?"

"I want Vangough General Hospital," I said, solid. "I'm taking over as Chief Medical Director. Plus, I want the tech and research arms of the company under my thumb. Tristan Corps is switching to medical tech. He needs our patents or he's dead in the water."

"Done," he said, no hesitation. He slid me a folder. "Just got this. Tristan's assistant called. He's trying to get a meeting with the 'anonymous' owner of the Vangough medical patents for weeks. He has zero clue it's you."

I grabbed the folder, flipped through it. Tristan was desperate. He blew his dough buying a medical-chip factory, but without my dad coughing up the paperwork, those chips are illegal. He's drowning and begging the woman he pushed down the stairs to throw him a line.

"Let him wait," I said. "Let him sweat a bit."

The rest of the afternoon was a blur. I wasn't a clumsy Juniper anymore. I was a doctor, an heiress. I sat in on a three-hour video call with the hospital board. They almost cracked themselves up when they found out the famous Doctor Niper—the surgeon doing all those amazing heart transplants in Europe—was actually a Vangough.

"We're so glad to have you, Doctor," the board chair stammered.

"Good. First order of business," I said, icy, "We're checking our VIP list. Anybody tied to Tristan Corps gets bumped to the bottom. And if some chick named Rayna rolls in for a beauty treatment or a scratch, tell her to kick rocks. We're a hospital, not a playground for mistresses."

After the meeting, I was feeling sick. My side was hurting. Surgery went well, but the stress was catching up. I flopped on the bed, staring at the ceiling, then someone knocked.

It was Xavier.

He'd changed into a black shirt, sleeves hiked up to show his arms. He carried a tray with food and meds.

"Your dad said you haven't eaten," Xavier said, quiet and soothing. He sat on the bed's edge, and for the first time in ages, I didn't jump when a guy got close.

"Not hungry, Xavier."

"Eat," he said, blowing on a spoonful of soup, holding it out. "You're a doctor. You know you need fuel. Or I have to treat you like a patient?"

I looked at him. His eyes were kind, real, and it hurt. Tristan never even grabbed me a glass of water when I was sick. He told me to quit being dramatic.

I took the soup. It was great. "Thanks."

"Saw the news," Xavier said, jaw tight. "Tristan was at a jewelry store with that Rayna chick this morning. Buying her diamonds while you're healing from his screw-up."

I tasted bitterness, but swallowed it. "He can buy her the store. Using credit he can't pay back in a month. He thinks he's getting the Vangough deal. He fucking really thinks his life is about to get awesome."

Xavier reached out, hovering near my face, then tucked a hair strand behind my ear. Electric touch. Not Tristan's cold allergy touch. Heavy, warm, real.

"He's an idiot, June. Dumped the sun for a candle."

I locked onto Xavier's eyes. "Why do all this, Xavier? You waited four years. You could have married anyone. Why now?"

Xavier leaned in, face close. Sandalwood, rain scent. "Because I told you four years ago, Juniper. I don't want 'anyone.' I've wanted you since we were kids in your dad's garden. You chose him so I backed off, wanting you happy. But he broke you. He won't keep one piece of your heart."

My breath caught. The room changed, the air thick, heavy. Xavier wasn't just my friend. He was a man, strong, protective, looking at me like I was everything.

"The deal," I whispered, shaky. "The marriage. You sure? It's just for revenge."

Xavier's thumb traced my jaw. "For you, it's that. For me, it's a second shot. I'll sign whatever, June. Your shield. Your husband if you let me."

He leaned down, and I thought he'd kiss me. My heart pounded for a while.. But he kissed my forehead.

"Rest now," he whispered. "Tomorrow, the world learns who you really are. His nightmare starts tomorrow."

I watched him go, skin still hot from his touch. For the first time in years I felt like a queen getting ready for war.

The next morning, I woke up stronger. I wore a killer red suit that showed off my curves. Dark lipstick, hair in a sleek bun.

I looked in the mirror. "Goodbye, Juniper Woods," I whispered. "Hello, Juniper Vangough."

My phone buzzed. Text from an unknown number. A photo of Tristan and Rayna at a fancy place, laughing. Rayna wore a necklace that cost more than Tristan's car.

A message from Tristan: “Filing today. Don't expect alimony. You hit Rayna, I have ‘witnesses.’ Sign the papers or I press charges. You have till 5 PM.”

I smiled, cold. No reply. I called my lawyer.

“Mr. Sterling? Juniper Vangough. I want a countersuit – fraud, abuse, negligence. And buy Tristan Corps' debt. Every cent. Use the Vangough money. I want to own his soul by the weekend.”

“Consider it done, Miss Vangough,” he said.

Downstairs, Xavier waited in his grey suit, looking like the Callum family heir. He looked me up and down, hot fire in his eyes.

“You look dangerous,” he said, offering his arm.

“I am,” I replied, taking his words in.

“Good. The car's ready. The Vangough board waits for their new Chairperson. And guess who's begging in the lobby right now?”

My heart jumped. “Tristan?”

Xavier nodded. “Sitting there, whining about the coffee. Thinks he's about to meet a guy who’ll save him.”

"Let's not keep him waiting," I added. "Four years for this. Wouldn't miss his face for anything."

We walked to the car, sun on my face. Side ache, a reminder. But the fire in my heart roared.

Tristan thought he was allergic to my touch. By the time I'm done, he'll be allergic to his own name.