CHAPTER 4: The man in black

The door handle turned.

Three men in black masks stepped inside. Not goons. Professionals. Their suits were expensive, their movements synchronized. They didn't look at Julian. They looked at me.

Damian was right.

My heart slammed against my ribs, but my face stayed still. Three years ago, I would have screamed. Now? I calculated.

"Elara," Julian said, and his voice had changed. All the warmth was gone. "Give me the recorder."

"Or what? You'll have your pets hurt me?" I didn't move. "That would be hard to explain to the press. Billionaire assaults ex-wife. Not great for stock prices."

One of the men stepped forward. He was huge—easily six-foot-four, with hands that had broken bones before. "We don't need to hurt you, Miss Vance. Just take the device."

I smiled. "You can't take what you can't find."

I had already pressed send.

Julian's phone buzzed. Then the second man's phone. Then the third.

Julian pulled it out. His face drained of color. On his screen was a notification:

"FILE RECEIVED: EVIDENCE_PACKAGE_THORNE.zip from unknown server."

"What did you do?" he whispered.

"I told you," I said, stepping toward the door. The men blocked me, but I didn't stop. I walked right into the big one's chest. He didn't move. I looked up at him. "If you touch me, that file goes to the New York Times, the Wall Street Journal, and the FBI. Not just the recording from tonight. Everything. Tax evasion. Insider trading. The offshore accounts in the Caymans. The woman in Dubai you told me was a business partner."

The big man looked at Julian.

Julian's hands were shaking. "Let her go."

"But sir—"

"I said LET HER GO."

The men parted. I walked to the door, opened it, and stepped into the hallway. My legs were trembling, but I didn't look back.

"Elara," Julian called. His voice cracked again. "This isn't over."

I turned my head just enough for him to see my profile. "No, Julian. It's not. But from now on, I decide the rules."

I walked out.

The elevator doors closed behind me, and I let out a breath I didn't know I'd been holding. My hands were shaking. I looked down at my phone.

One new message from Damian: Are you alive?

Me: Barely. Pick me up at the west entrance. And bring chocolate.

Damian: Dark or milk?

Me: Dark. Like my soul now.

I laughed. It was shaky and raw, but it was real. I had just walked into a trap, stolen evidence from a billionaire, and walked out alive.

But Julian's words echoed in my head: "I know the real reason you're doing this. Fear."

Was he right?

The elevator doors opened. Damian's black SUV was idling at the curb. He jumped out before the car fully stopped, grabbed my face in both hands, and looked at me like I was a ghost.

"Your nose is bleeding," he said softly.

I touched my upper lip. Red. "It's nothing."

"It's not nothing." He pulled me into a hug—tight, warm, nothing like Julian's cold embraces. "You're shaking."

"I'm fine."

"You're lying."

I pulled back and looked at him. Damian Kael, the most dangerous man in the city, looked genuinely terrified. For me.

"Why do you care?" I asked. "This is just business, right?"

He didn't answer. He just opened the car door and said, "Get in. We have work to do."

As I climbed into the leather seat, I saw something in his eyes. Something I hadn't seen in three years.

Care.

And that scared me more than Julian ever could.