CHAPTER 3

CHAPTER THREE

Vincent

The sun was already dipping when I stepped out of the car. My tie was undone, my head still humming with the aftermath of flashbulbs and handshakes. Today had been the launch of my newest hotel, a glass-and-steel tower investors were calling the jewel of Avron. To everyone else, it was a victory, proof that Vincent Evans was untouchable.

To me, it was noise. Endless smiling for cameras, clinking glasses, speeches about resilience and vision. None of it mattered when Aurora’s name flashed across my phone.

“Rory,” I muttered, answering the call as I walked through the lobby of Vance Residence.

Her voice cracked. “Vincent, I… I didn’t mean to, but they were making fun of me again. About the orphanage. I told them to stop, but—”

My steps quickened, jaw clenching. “Aurora. Where are you?”

“At home. I’m sorry, I just—” Her words dissolved into tears.

The launch was still going on without me. Investors still toasting my name, photographers still hunting for my face. But none of them mattered. Aurora did.

And that’s when it happened.

I didn’t see her until it was too late. A suitcase toppled, wheels screeching against the marble. I glanced up, and there she was. A woman, sharp-featured, angry eyes, staring at me like I had just committed a crime. Her perfume cut through the air, something expensive, something bold.

But Aurora’s muffled sobs still rang in my ear. So instead of stopping, instead of apologizing like a civilized man, I pushed forward into the elevator and hit the button.

Her voice chased me. “What the hell?! Couldn’t even apologize!”

The doors slid shut before I could answer. Maybe I should have. But Rory came first. She always would.

The penthouse was quiet when I unlocked the door. Too quiet. Then I saw her—Aurora—sitting on the couch with red-rimmed eyes, her sketchbook clutched to her chest like armor.

I sat beside her, tugging the book away gently. “Show me.”

She hesitated, then opened it. Scribbles of dark shapes filled the page, jagged lines, tiny figures being swallowed by shadows. She’d drawn herself small, surrounded by faceless people pointing and laughing.

“Who said it?” I asked, keeping my voice calm.

She shrugged, her curls falling over her face. “It doesn’t matter. I just hate it. I hate when they call me the charity girl.”

My hand curled into a fist, but I forced it open again. “Aurora, listen to me. You are not their pity. You’re not their joke. You’re mine. My family. And that makes you stronger than all of them combined.”

She sniffled, leaning into me. “You really think so?”

“I know so.” I kissed the top of her head, something I never thought I’d be the kind of man to do. But Rory wasn’t just anyone. She was the only person who reminded me I had a heart left to give.

When she finally went to bed, I poured myself a drink and stepped onto the balcony. Avron stretched out before me, a city of dreams and knives, one I had conquered and one that could still cut me if I wasn’t careful.

My gaze slid to the opposite balcony. The new tenant’s lights were still on. Through the sheer curtains, I saw a silhouette moving, graceful and unhurried. The woman from earlier.

So she was my neighbor.

I took a long sip, the burn sharp against my throat. Fallon had mentioned someone was moving in, but he hadn’t said she looked like trouble carved in silk.

“Perfect,” I muttered. “Just what I needed.”

The city buzzed far below, but all I heard was my own promise: nothing, and no one, would ever distract me from what mattered again.

Still, my eyes lingered on that balcony longer than they should have.