Mag-log inSTACY'S POVA low, cold laugh bubbled up in my throat. I let it out, letting it hang in the air between us. His thumb was still on my lip, his grip on my arm a vise. He thinks he’s won. He thinks I’m that girl.I leaned into his touch, just a fraction. Saw his pupils widen. Yes. That’s it. Believe it.“You’re right,” I whispered, my voice shaking on purpose. I let my eyes go wide, scared. “I am scared. Of you. Of losing everything.”A triumphant gleam flashed in his eyes. His thumb stroked my lip again, possessive. “Smart girl. Finally seeing reason. It’s just one night. A small price.”I nodded, a quick, jerky motion. “A small price. For Michael’s company. For mine.” I swallowed, making it look difficult. “You… you promise? You’ll call it off? The takeover?”“My word is my bond,” he said, the lie smooth as silk. He leaned in, his breath hot against my cheek. “I’ll be generous. I might even keep you on after. A personal assistant. You’d like that, wouldn’t you? Being close to real pow
STACY'S POVThe memory hit me like a physical slap, sharp and sudden, stealing the air from the glittering room.That office. Small, too warm, smelling of cheap coffee and ambition. My hands had been shaking as I laid out the business plan, my voice too bright, too eager. He’d sat behind a big desk, not saying a word, just watching me. His eyes—the same piercing, cold eyes now scanning the banquet hall—hadn’t looked at the charts. They’d traced the neckline of my thrift-store blouse, the curve of my hip in my only good skirt.“A compelling proposal, Stacy,” he’d said finally, leaning back. His voice was smooth, like oil. “You have passion. I like that in a partner.”He’d promised funding. A real investment. My heart had soared. Then his hand had covered mine on the desk. His thumb stroked my knuckles. “Of course, partnerships require… intimacy. Trust. A meeting of minds. And bodies.”The meaning had dripped, cold and slimy, into the space between us. I’d jerked my hand back. “I’m just
STACY'S POVThe warmth from Michael’s protectiveness still hummed under my skin like a second heartbeat. He’s looking out for me. Not in a way that felt smothering, but solid. Like a fortress at my back. It made me happy, in a deep, quiet way I wasn’t used to. That happiness, though, it fueled something else—a fierce, burning resolve.He’d worked so hard for this bidding event. Years of building Sotheby Holdings from nothing. I wouldn’t let him lose it. Not over my company’s drama. And not to his snake of a cousin.So I took care of it. All of it. The final preparations, the security, the traps. For the rival company sniffing for blood. For the cousin hiding in the shadows. I set the stage, and I made sure every piece was exactly where it needed to be.The day of the bidding arrived, sharp and clear. A perfect day for a war.“You’re sure about the arrangements for Millie?” Michael asked, his voice a low rumble as he straightened his cufflinks in the mirror of our bedroom.I finished c
MIACHEL'S POVThe drive home felt longer than it should have. The city lights blurred past the car window, but I didn’t really see them. My mind was stuck in that grainy video feed, hearing those cold voices plot Stacy’s ruin.They see her as incompetent. The thought was a hot coal in my gut. After everything she’s built. After surviving Matt, the kidnapping, the boardroom… they just see a woman to be pushed aside.My hands tightened on the steering wheel. I’d told my assistant to keep digging, to track every shell corporation, every payment. But I was driving away from the operation. I needed to see her. I just didn’t know how to explain what I’d found.How do you tell the woman you love that a pack of vultures is circling, ready to pick apart the life she’s fought for? That my own blood might be funding it? She’d be heartbroken. And furious. The sadness would be worse—that deep, quiet hurt of betrayal.She worked so hard to get here. And someone just wants to take it.The anger boil
MIACHEL'S POVThe house was too quiet after Stacy left. I stood in the empty kitchen, my hands flat on the cool granite counter. The echo of her voice—I’ll handle it, Michael, just let me go—was still ringing in my head.She’d wanted to come. To follow Aris herself. To be part of the hunt.I told her no.It wasn’t about protection this time. It was about opportunity. My cousin had slithered out of every legal trap I’d set. Paper trails, witnesses, contracts—he had layers of insulation. The only way to catch him was to get him in the act, raw and unfiltered. And that required methods that weren’t exactly… corporate.Methods I didn’t want Stacy to see.Not because she couldn’t handle it. She’d proven she could. But because I wanted to keep that part of myself separate from her. The part that operated in shadows, that used fists and threats as tools. She’d seen glimpses, but the full picture… I wanted to shield her from that. Maybe that was selfish. Maybe it was stupid.But it’s my only
STACY'S POVThe silence in the boardroom was thick enough to carve. My question hung in the air, a lit fuse. I watched their faces, my heart a cold, hard stone in my chest.There. That’s the fear.I could see it, clear as a signature. Eliza’s defiant gaze flickered, just for a second, before hardening again. Bronson, the older investor with the greedy eyes, went pale. His fingers tightened around his pen. A few others—Aris, a woman named Iris who’d always been quiet—looked at the table, at their hands, anywhere but at me.The loyal ones, Benjamin Croft and Mr. Finley, stared back at me with open, steady concern. They were surprised, yes. But not guilty.“I’m waiting,” I said, my voice low. “Who has sold their stake?”Eliza broke first. She smoothed her already-sleek hair, a nervous gesture she tried to mask as arrogance. “This is an outrageous accusation, Stacy. We are shareholders, not children to be scolded. You have no proof.”“I will have the proof,” I said, not moving. “Lydia is
Matt's POVThe hotel lobby was a cathedral of polished marble and my own failure. I stood there, the concierge's polite, empty smile like a slap, and I knew. She was gone. He had her.A red haze blurred the edges of my vision. "Check again," I snarled, leaning over the desk."Sir, I assure you, th
Stacy's POVI walked out of the hospital with my papers in my hand. The sun was too bright. Everything felt strange.Then I saw him.Matt was standing there with red roses. He was smiling.This can't be real. He never does this. Never."Stacy, darling! Over here!" His voice was loud and sweet. Peop
Stacy's POVThe hotel room was a blank, expensive box. High floor, premium privacy. They promised discretion. Information protection, the concierge had said with a smooth smile. It was my one safe card to play.I sat on the edge of the too-soft bed, my discharge papers a neat pile beside me. My han
Matt's POVThe pain was white-hot fire between my legs, pulsing with every ragged breath. I lay on the floor, curled around the agony, hearing the front door slam. She ran. She actually ran.I forced my eyes open, saw the empty space where she'd just been. My wife. My property. Walking out the door







