LOGINSerena's POVI adjusted the cuff of my blouse in the mirror of the bedroom, the one I'd claimed as a temporary powder room because the master suite still felt like enemy territory. Julian's cold shoulder was starting to get on my nerves more than I cared to admit. Three weeks back in this penthouse, playing the dutiful wife to a man who looked at me like I was a pain in his ass, and I was already itching to burn it all down.My phone buzzed on the marble counter. It was Vivian. Of course. The message was short, cryptic, and fucking typical of her.'Access the backup terminal in his study. The NEREID proxy codes are active. Start small. Shell accounts only. No traces.'I deleted it immediately, my heart suddenly beating rapidly. This wasn't some amateur smash-and-grab. Vivian had drilled it into me during those weeks in her "holding arrangement"–how to move money swiftly. Julian's empire was a fortress, but even fortresses had entrances if you knew where to knock.I slipped the phone i
Lauren’s POV I slipped out of the east wing just after midnight, my sneakers quiet on the marble. The penthouse felt like a damn pressure cooker these days. Serena gliding around like she owned the place again, flashing those fake smiles at Julian while her eyes stayed dead cold. And Julian... God, Julian. He watched everything like a shark circling blood in the water, but he still didn’t remember me. Not the way that mattered.My hand drifted to my stomach out of habit. The baby was still a secret I guarded tighter than anything. I couldn’t risk Serena or Vivian finding out. Hell, half the time I wasn’t sure Julian would even believe me if I told him right now.I took the elevator down to the garage level. I needed air that didn’t taste like lies. The underground lot was dim, I was heading for one of the fleet SUVs so I could take a drive when I noticed a shadow moved near the pillar.I froze, my heart slamming against my chest. My fingers curled around the small knife I kept in my
Silas’s POV I stared at the cracked hospital ceiling for what felt like the hundredth fucking time that day, the sterile smell of antiseptic burning my nostrils. The doctors thought I was still playing the amnesia card, but my head was clearer than it had been in weeks. Stage four glioblastoma. Three months, maybe four if I was lucky. The bullets had just sped up the clock. Funny how dying makes everything crystal fucking clear.Vivian Moreau was the real snake in the grass. I'd pieced it together from the whispers Marcus let slip during his visits and the burner phone I'd kept hidden under my mattress. Julian's empire was crumbling because of her, and Serena? That overly pampered bitch was dancing right in the middle of it. If I was going out, I wasn't doing it quietly. Not while Lauren was still tangled up in this mess.I grabbed the disposable phone from the drawer, the one with the private line that cost me a favor from an old contact outside the Cross network. My fingers hovered
Julian’s POV I was losing my fucking mind, and I didn't know why.Every time I walked into a room in this goddamn penthouse, my eyes did the same thing. They scanned the corners, the hallways, the kitchen counter–looking for her. Not Serena. It was never Serena. My wife was usually exactly where she belonged, draped in some expensive designer clothes, smiling that perfect, rehearsed smile that suddenly made my skin crawl.No, I was looking for the twin. Lauren."Julian? Are you listening to me?"Serena’s high and smooth voice cut through my thoughts. She was sitting across from me at the long dining table, poking at a salad."Yeah," I lied, keeping my eyes on my tablet. "You were talking about the charity gala next week.""The Aurelia Trust event," she corrected, her tone carrying that slight edge of annoyance she always hid behind a pout. "It’s important we show a united front, especially after everything that happened with the security breach. People are talking.""Let them talk, I
Julian’s POVThe study was lit up with the amber glow of the desk lamp, a sharp contrast to the icy coldness radiating from the man sitting behind it. I watched her–my wife. She stood near the floor-to-ceiling windows, her silhouette looking perfect against the Seattle skyline."Serena," I said, my voice barely a whisper in the silence.She turned. Her eyes held mine with a terrifying, steady calm. "Yes, Julian?""I’ve been thinking," I said, leaning back, making the leather chair creaking under me. "My memory of the weeks before you returned is… fragmented. A black hole, if you will call it that. But I have a habit of noticing when a puzzle piece doesn't fit the picture."She didn't flinch. She just tilted her head, a gesture so practiced it almost annoyed me. "You’ve been through a trauma, Julian. The doctors said–""Fuck the doctors," I cut her off in a flat tone that was devoid of the heat that usually fueled my temper. I was actually fascinated. She was playing the role of my wif
Julian’s POV My patience was a fucking running thin, and it was running out a hell of a lot faster than Serena expected.Ever since she came back, she’d been acting like the woman I remembered marrying, the one who treated our relationship like a cold, legally binding contract. She was prepared for that version of me. She was prepared for the distant, predictable husband who didn't give a shit what she did as long as she didn't embarrass my name.But she wasn't prepared for the man I was now.I couldn't explain it, and it was driving me fucking insane. It felt like though my brain had been wiped clean of the last several months, but my body hadn't received the memo. My instincts rebelled against her. Every time she reached out to touch my shoulder, every time she flashed that perfectly practiced smile, my skin crawled. It felt fake. A cheap goddamn performance, and every single nerve in my body was screaming at me to push her away.I didn't want performed warmth. For some reason, my
Lauren’s POV The file spread across the dining table like an autopsy.Julian had cleared everything else off — the coffee mugs, the stack of unopened mail, the small glass bowl of keys I'd started leaving near the door out of habit. Little by little, he'd pushed the ordinary pieces of our life asi
Lauren's POVThree weeks of nothing from Vivian Moreau should have felt like winning the lottery. For most people, radio silence from a psychotic blonde with a vendetta would mean breathing space, maybe even a chance to sleep without one eye open. For me, it was a goddamn fire alarm blaring in my
Lauren’s POV I stood in Julian’s study with the binder open on the desk, my fingers frozen on the edge of Jake’s photograph. The pool of blood. The dark alley. The clean slice across his throat. The typed order underneath it with Julian’s initials at the bottom. And right below that, the terminat
Lauren’s POVBreaking back into Julian’s penthouse was shockingly easy. Too easy. I still knew every blind spot, every camera loop, every guard rotation down to the minute they bitched about overtime. He was probably out hunting the last scraps of the Rossi gang—the ones who’d put Silas in that co







