LOGINGwen's POV The air outside hit my face like a cold slap when I stepped out of the event building. It wasn't even a cold day, but I was burning from the inside out. Burning with anger. With adrenaline. With the shame of losing control. With a disbelief that made everything feel slightly off balance. I kept my spine straight. Chin up. The same expression I used in meetings with men who thought I should be grateful just to be sitting at the table. Except this time, it wasn't a table. It was a patrol car. "Ms. Kensington, please," the officer repeated. His tone wasn't rude, but it wasn't optional either. I glanced around the parking lot, as if logic might be hiding somewhere between the concrete lines. "This is… serious?" I asked, and my voice came out steadier than I felt. "There has been a report of assault," he replied, professional and detached. "The person who filed the report has visible injuries consistent with that claim. We need to bring you in for questioning."
Renee's POV The bathroom floor was cold enough to remind me I was human. The metallic taste in my mouth didn't help. I blinked slowly, trying to piece together the images that were still flashing behind my eyes. The crack of her hand. The force of her body coming at me. The fury in Gwen Kensington's eyes like she had spent her entire life training for that exact second. I hadn't anticipated that. I had imagined Gwen the way I always imagined women like her. Too polished to sweat. Too refined to bite. The kind who take a hit gracefully and then buy the world's silence with a check. But she had fight in her. And worse than that, it was the kind of fight that humiliates. It wasn't just the physical pain. It was the feeling of being put in my place. Made small. Made disposable. Made pathetic. I clenched my teeth. Pain pulsed up my temple, and I forced myself to breathe through my nose, slow and controlled, as if calm could erase what had just happened. No. I wouldn'
Gwen's POV I walked out of the restroom as if nothing had happened. The door closed behind me with a soft, almost polite click, and I made my way down the narrow hallway without looking back, even with the metallic taste of blood lingering at the corner of my mouth. I brushed the back of my hand across it, disguising the motion as if I were fixing a strand of hair. Red. Just a thin streak, but enough to remind me I had crossed a line I had spent my entire life avoiding. I didn't like physical fights. Not because I was weak. Far from it. But because ninety-nine percent of the time, things can be handled with words. Renee was my one percent. She had a sick talent for turning air into a blade. For finding, with surgical precision, the exact pressure point that makes a smart woman lose her intelligence for two seconds. And if someone dragged me into a fight… I wasn't going to lose. That's a skill you develop when you grow up being shoved into lockers by people who t
Gwen's POV The door was locked. The click still echoed in my head like a warning. No one was coming in here by accident. Outside, the muffled noise of the event carried on. Laughter, footsteps, a microphone being tested. In here, I was just a woman trying not to fall apart. Renee, on the other hand, looked far too comfortable. Leaning against the sink with the posture of someone who felt like she owned the place, as if an event restroom were just another extension of her world. I stepped further into the room, making it clear that I wasn't going to back down simply because she fed on retreat. "I know exactly what you want," I began. "And let me save you some time. You're never getting a cent of my money." "Oh…" she said, sounding almost pleased. "That's adorable. The billionaire thinks the center of the universe is her bank account." It might have been funny if it hadn't been so calculated. If she weren't trying to turn me into a caricature. The untouchable rich woman who
Gwen's POV For a second, I just stared at the microphone like it was a neutral object. Then I smiled. Polite enough not to turn into a headline. "Thank you for the question," I said in the same tone I would've used to answer something about cash flow or market expansion. "A child's emotional adjustment is a process, not an event. What usually works best, regardless of family structure, is consistency. Routine. Predictability. Age-appropriate communication. And an environment where the child feels safe expressing what they're feeling." I stopped there on purpose. No "in my home." No "in my family." Nothing that could be twisted into ammunition. My job had always been choosing words the way I chose numbers. Carefully. With consequences in mind. Renee tilted her head slightly, like she was selecting the best angle for her next strike. It was subtle, but I recognized that body language. I grew up around people who smiled while they cut. "I see," she continued, her calm perfec
Gwen's POV If this event hadn't been scheduled months ago, with printed invitations, blocked calendars, confirmed RSVPs, and a fully aligned team, I wouldn't have gone. I would have come up with an elegant excuse. An unavoidable meeting. A sudden migraine. A "last-minute emergency" delivered with the ease of someone who, honestly, could afford to disappear for a night. But it wasn't just a night. It was a stage. A microphone. A photo. A title: Women and Leadership. And in the last few days, my life had turned into a series of small survivals that didn't fit neatly into a panel discussion. I stood in front of the bedroom mirror, adjusting a simple earring, when Nick appeared behind me. He didn't say anything right away. He just watched me with that look that always seemed to know what I wasn't saying. He stepped closer and rested his hands on the vanity on either side of me, without trapping me in. It was a simple gesture, and still, I felt like someone had set a comfortin
Marcus' POV I was lying on the hospital gurney, completely bored out of my mind and desperate to get out of there. The hypothermia had passed hours ago, my body temperature was back to normal, and I felt perfectly fine. But the medical team insisted on "preventive observation" and a few more hours
Madeline's POV The adrenaline from the competition was still buzzing through my veins as I walked back to our cabin. We'd finished the escape room in one hour and eight minutes—a solid time, considering how complex the challenges had been. No matter the final result, we were about to leave this ca
Marcus' POV The second activity was set in a wilder area of the complex, where a mountain stream ran between rocks and centuries-old trees. The organizer had put together an impressive setup. Three separate starting points, each with a pile of building materials and basic tools. On the other side
Marcus' POV I watched Madeline lying in the hospital bed, still holding her hand carefully, as if she were made of glass and could shatter with any sudden movement. The last few hours had been a whirlwind of emotions and fear that left me mentally drained. First, the devastating news about her f







