LOGIN[Sarah’s POV]"Clear the room properly," I said.My voice was sharp, cold, and dangerously tense. "I want the suitcases in the entryway by 6:00PM. If Tyler isn’t at the gate to collect them, Dex will drive them to the city himself. I don't care if he drops them at a hotel or on a street corner. They are not spending another sunrise on this property."Marissa and two of the junior house staff stood paralyzed in the hallway. They were holding a stack of Leena’s pink cashmere blankets and a wooden puzzle set. They looked at me as if I had suddenly grown a second head."Sarah, dear..." Mrs. Gable’s voice drifted from the sunroom, fragile and trembling. She was seated in a chair, her trembling hands clutching a diaper bag. She looked older than she had that morning, shattered by the sudden, violent shift in the atmosphere.. "Leena is just settling here, getting to bond with her brother. Surely, whatever Mr Rider has done... The child is innocent."I didn't let her finish. I didn't even tu
[Tyler’s POV]I slammed the heavy oak door of my father’s house at the east wing of Manhattan shut with a loud bang. The sound echoed up the marble staircase and through the vaulted ceilings of the Rider estate, a hollow, mocking boom that punctuated the end of an era. I didn't care if the neighbors heard.I had driven like a madman behind my father’s black sedan, the two of us weaving through Manhattan traffic like funeral cars racing to a burial. Except we weren't burying Beatrice today. We were burying the Rider Group.My father, the man who had built a kingdom out of steel and secrets walked with a terrifying, rhythmic calmness toward the bar in the corner of the study. He moved like a man who had all the time in the world, shedding his suit jacket and draping it over a leather armchair as if we had just come home from a pleasant charity gala rather than a corporate execution.I stood in the center of the room, my chest heaving, my hands still curled into useless, trembling fists.
[Tyler’s POV]The forty-eight-hour grace period Marcus had granted me to fix my mess has elapsed.As the elevator hissed open on the fiftieth floor, the air felt thinner, colder. I adjusted the knot of my silk tie, my fingers trembling slightly. I was walking into the mouth of the wolves bigger than I am, heading toward the boardroom to face the men who had spent the last three days sharpening their knives for my back. I had spent those seventy-two hours screaming into the void. My father hadn't replied to a single text. He hadn't returned a single call. The silence from the man was the loudest warning I’d ever received."Any updates?" I asked my secretary, leaning over her desk. My voice sounded ragged, even to my own ears.She didn't look up from her screen. Her posture was stiff, her professional warmth replaced by a clinical detachment. "Nothing new, Mr. Rider. But your father is already in the boardroom. They’re waiting for you."My heart did a slow, heavy roll. He’s here? The o
[Sarah’s POV]The air in my office was thick enough to choke on. I sat behind my desk, the wood cold beneath my white-knuckled grip. To my right, the senior production staff, the only five people with the security clearance to see my prototypes, stood in a jagged line, shifting their weight, their eyes darting anywhere but at me. To my left, Norman sat on the leather sofa, his legs crossed, his expression unreadable.I didn't speak for a long time. I just let the silence hollow them out. I wanted them to feel the weight of the harvest they were about to lose."I’ve never called a meeting like this," I began, my voice a low, dangerous rasp that made Arthur flinch. "Because I’ve never had reason to believe that the people I pay to build this legacy were busy dismantling it behind my back."I picked up the remote and clicked the power button on the 65-inch monitor mounted on the wall. The screen came to life, displaying the home page of Vignoble de la Rose.The gasps were quick. The lead
[Sarah’s POV]"I don't care what the invoice says, Arthur! We didn't order five tons of French oak if the cellar floor is still leaking!"My voice cracked across the courtyard, sharp enough to make a pair of crows scatter from the roof of the production house. I slammed the stack of purchase orders onto the stone wall, the paper stinging my palms. The numbers on the ledgers were drowning me.Every time I closed my eyes, I heard Leena’s tiny, haunting voice from the night before. 'Mommy says Sarah took the magic.'"Boss? You look like you’re ready to fire the sun for rising too early."I spun around. Big Elijah was standing by the equipment shed, his massive arms crossed over his chest. He looked as steady as a mountain, the only thing on this property that didn't feel like it was shifting under my feet.I gestured for him to follow me toward the secluded corner of the tasting room, away from the prying eyes of the seasonal pickers."Elijah," I said, my voice dropping to a low, jagged
[Tyler’s POV]"You’re telling me that in a city with eight million cameras, my sister’s killer cannot be found?"I slam my palms flat against the cold metal of the interrogation table, staring at the grainy monitor displaying the footage of that faithful night."Mr. Rider, please. Sit down." Detective Swordsman didn’t look up from his notepad. He was a man who looked like he’d spent twenty years watching the worst parts of humanity on repeat, and his indifference was starting to feel like an insult."I’m not sitting," I snapped, my voice echoing off the cinderblock walls. "I want to know why this footage looks like it was filmed through a bowl of soup. That’s Beatrice for fuck sake. That’s my sister."Miller sighed and tapped a key on the laptop. The video jumped forward. "That is why we need you to be calm and watch this... thirty minutes after she enters the abandoned tenement, this individual arrives."I froze. My eyes locked onto the screen. A dark figure emerged from across the s
[Tyler’s POV]"She doesn’t look like a Rider, Tyler. Not even a little bit."Chloe’s voice cut through the sterile quiet of the recovery room. She was standing at the foot of Lucy’s bed, her arms crossed tightly over her chest. She didn't even look at the pink bundle in the cot with affection. She
【Sarah’s POV]The Maybach pulled up to the curb of the Metropolitan Plaza. Dex, my head of security, stepped out first. He adjusted his jacket, his eyes scanning the perimeter."Ready, Miss Hale?" Dex asked, opening my door.I took a deep breath, I looked down at my dress—a custom-made, emerald sil
[Sarah’s POV]The gala’s master of ceremonies stepped up to the podium, his voice echoing through the hushed hall."And now, for the evening’s most prestigious honor. The Excellence in Viticulture and Market Innovation Award goes to... The Hale Vineyard."I walked onto the stage, every eye in New Y
[Sarah’s POV]The adrenaline that had sustained me through the gala, through the award, and through the exposure of Byron Rider was finally beginning to dissolve, leaving a hollow ache in its wake.I was wrapped in a plush white robe, my skin still humming from the heat of the shower, when a sharp,







