LOGINMatt'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, there is no one under that name—"I didn't hear the rest. I turned, my fists clenched so tight my knuckles ached. My phone was already at my ear. "Davis. Get the team. Now. Surround the block. Check every exit. She didn't just vanish into air."My men moved like ghosts, efficient and silent. But they came back with nothing. Nothing. The hollow panic from the house returned, colder, sharper. I was in the security office ten minutes later, jaw locked, watching grainy black-and-white footage on a monitor.Then I saw it.The timestamp from forty minutes ago. The service elevator opening into the underground garage. Michael Sotheby stepped out, his posture easy, confident. And in his arms, held tig
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 hand shook just a little as I picked up the room phone. I dialed the number I knew by heart.It rang twice."Sotheby."His voice was like gravel, rough from sleep or maybe just from constant, simmering anger. It sent a shiver down my spine."It's Stacy."A beat of silence. Then, a low, heavy sigh. "Where are you?""That doesn't matter. I'm calling to resign. Starting immediately. I won't be coming back to the office."Another silence, thicker this time. I could almost hear his mind working, calculating. "You're hiding.""I'm being smart. I need time to plan. To get my divorce."He laughed, a short, harsh sound. "Your divorce. You think you can just hide in a hole and paperwork will magically ap
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.A raw sound tore from my throat. I tried to push myself up, but the pain shot through me again, sending me back to the cool hardwood with a gasp. I can't even stand. Humiliation burned hotter than the physical hurt. She'd kneed me like I was some drunk in a bar, not her husband. Not the man who owned her.The door creaked open. Clara's hesitant face appeared. "Matt? Oh, God. Are you—""Get out!" I snarled, the words harsh.She flinched, her hand flying to her rounded stomach. A protective gesture. For my heir. "I was just—""I said get out!" I roared, finding the strength to prop myself up on one elbow. The room swam. "Leave me alone!"She vanished, shutting the door softly. Smart girl. Kn
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. People turned to look at us. They probably thought he was a good husband.My feet stopped moving. He walked toward me with that fake smile."You look sick," he said. He pushed the flowers at me. They smelled too strong. "Here. For you."I didn't take them. I just looked at the flowers, then at his face. I could see a bruise on his face under makeup. His lip was cut. His smile looked wrong. His eyes were cold."What are you doing here, Matt?" My voice was quiet.His smile got tight. "I came to get my wife. Come on. The car is right here." He pointed with the flowers like I was a dog.I walked past him. I kept going toward the taxis. The ground felt wrong under my feet."Stacy." His voice was hard
Stacy's POVHe laughed, a low, ugly sound that vibrated through his hand still clamped on my chin. "Joking? You're just joking, right, sweetheart?" He gave my face a little shake. "You're angry. You want me to say I'm sorry. That's all this is."I tried to pull free, but his grip was iron. My wrist ached where he held it.From the doorway, Clara's voice was sweet and poisonous. "Listen to him, Stacy. He's being patient with you. After everything he's given you? This house? That ring?" She stepped into the room, her fitted dress hugging her pregnant curve. She looked at me like I was something she'd scraped off her shoe. "You're nothing without him. And you think you can demand an apology? From the man who provides everything?"Matt's eyes lit up with cruel agreement. "She's right. You hear that? Nothing." He leaned in, his whiskey-breath hot on my cheek. "So take it back. Take back the divorce nonsense. It was a tantrum. We both know it."The fury, cold and clear, washed away the last
Stacy's POVThe silence he left behind was heavy, suffocating. I stared at the closed hospital room door, my heart pounding against my chest. He showed it. That other side. The cold, furious control everyone whispered about. The man who broke doors and made threats and claimed people as his responsibility.I wrapped my arms around myself, the thin gown doing nothing against the chill. My mind raced. I can't belong to anyone. Not again.The door swung open before my heartbeat could slow. Michael walked back in, his movements precise, his face unreadable. He didn't sit. He just looked at me."It's not possession," he said, his voice low. "It's fact. You are in my care. Your health, and the health of that child, are now my concerns.""I don't want to be a concern!" The words burst out, sharper than I meant. "I don't want to be a... a thing you manage! I won't let any man hurt me again. Ever."He took a slow step closer. "Do you think I intend to hurt you?""I don't know what you intend!"







