INICIAR SESIĂNRavenAnaya steps through the massive glass entrance and comes to an abrupt stop, her mouth falling open.âWhatâŚâ Her eyes sweep from the soaring marble columns to the crystal chandeliers hanging overhead, then to the winding staircase and the floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the gardens. âRaven⌠this place is insane.âA laugh bubbles out of me at the look on her face.âIâve been to Romanâs estate, and Iâve seen the penthouse, but thisâŚâ She slowly turns in a circle. âThis is the best one yet. Itâs huge. Itâs gorgeous. And donât tell me this belongs to you too.ââIt does.âHer head snaps toward me. âSeriously?ââOne of my estates, actually.âShe blinks. âOne of your estates?ââMy father left them to me.â I shrug. âEverything. Including the Cole estates youâve probably heard about.âFor a full five seconds, she just stares. âSoâŚâ Her eyes narrow, calculating. âAre you richer than Roman?ââI wouldnât say that.ââYou wouldnât say that because youâre trying to be humble.â
Ravenâ¨In the kitchen, Iâm wearing one of Romanâs polo shirts that barely covers my ass and nothing underneath.â¨I empty a packet of spaghetti into a pot, fill it with water from the sink, and place it on the stove.â¨When I reach up for the salt on the top shelf, the shirt rides all the way up, cool air hitting my bare ass and pussy. I donât bother pulling it down.Because why should I?I can walk around bare if I want right now. The whole house is now empty, just the two of us.No more distractions in our lives. A nice dinner, plans for the next big move, and cuddling up in his arms for the rest of the night, talking or making out until weâre both spent. The pasta is boiling over by the time I realize Iâve been staring at the envelope on the counter instead of dinner.I turn the burner down, wipe my hands on a dish towel, and pick up the envelope again, running my thumb along the sealed edge for what feels like the tenth time tonight.Roman said it was mine to open. Mine to dea
RavenSteam still clings to the bathroom mirror when I sit down in front of it, towel wrapped tight, damp hair dripping onto my shoulders. I peel back the edge of the bandage over my chest slowly, careful, watching my own reflection do it like Iâm looking at someone else.The wound underneath is healing. Not fully, not yet, the skin still pink and tender at the edges, but the shape of it is unmistakable now. No ink. No needle ever touched me. Just a scar in the shape of his name, carved deliberate and careful into skin that will carry it for the rest of my life.Itâs beautiful in a way I donât fully understand yet.Iâm still staring at it when the door opens and Roman steps in, pausing when he sees me sitting there with the bandage half peeled away.âLet me,â he says quietly, crossing the room.I let my hand fall away and tip my chin up as he crouches in front of me, his eyes settling on the wound. He studies it quietly, his expression unreadable, before reaching for the fresh g
RavenThe cemetery is nearly empty when we arrive.I count exactly three figures standing beside the open grave. A priest, prayer book open in his hands, waiting for a congregation that never came. Vivienne, dressed in black, veil pulled low over her face. And beside her, Aria, chin lifted, arms crossed in that same practiced superiority sheâs worn every time sheâs looked at me.Thatâs all. Three people.No soldiers. No allies. No members of the Diamond Club Gerald swore would bury Roman alive for this. Not one of the men who spent decades shaking his hand and calling him a friend bothered to show up and watch him lowered into the ground.I stare at the empty rows of folding chairs set up for a funeral nobody attended.Gerald Cole commanded armies. Men feared his name in rooms he never even entered. And in the end, this is whatâs left of him. Three people and a hole in the ground, in a corner of the cemetery reserved for people nobody fights to remember.I donât know if this is justic
Raven The elevator doors slide open onto the rooftop.The city stretches around us, its skyline glittering against the night, while low lanterns hung along the railing cast pools of warm golden light across the floor.Romanâs hand settles against the small of my back, steady and possessive, guiding me forward.Iâm dressed in black from head to toe.A fitted black dress hugs my body, disappearing beneath the tailored blazer that conceals the gentle swell of my growing baby bump. Black heels click softly against the concrete with every step. Oversized sunglasses shield my tired eyes, while the bold red lipstick on my lips is the only splash of color I allow myself.I barely recognize the woman reflected in the glass doors we pass.She doesnât look fragile.She doesnât look like someone carrying grief on her shoulders.She looks composed. Untouchable. Powerful.Like a woman who has learned that softness doesnât have to come at the expense of strength.Roman gave me that.âYou donât have
Raven âI watched you slaughter your own flesh and blood out of greed and pure evil.â Roman says. âEven wild animals protect their young, yet you butchered your own family without a shred of remorse.âRomanâs voice remains eerily calm, but every word lands like a blade.âIt took nothing short of divine intervention for me to get out of that house alive with her. From that night on, everything I did, every lie I told, every smile I forced, every step I took toward you, had only one purpose.âHe takes another step closer.âTo make you pay.âHis jaw tightens, years of restrained hatred flickering across his face.âDo you have any idea how difficult it was pretending to be your friend? Sitting across from you, listening to you talk, shaking your hand⌠when all I wanted was to drive a knife through your heart and watch you bleed for what you did?ââAnd you think Iâm the one whoâs going down tonight?â Gerald asks, not a trace of remorse in his voice. âYouâre the one whoâs going to d
Roman Stepping into the office this morning, Iâm reminded of all the problems that has compounded for me. âYou actually did it, boss?â Marcusâs voice is low, controlled, but I hear the shock underneath it. He has worked for me long enough to know better than to wear his reactions openly. He isnât
RavenâVivienne is home. You will be nice to her.âThat was what he called and told me when I was getting into the car.I am going to meet my soon-to-be stepmother. The irony of this whole situation is almost laughable.I am sitting in the back of this black limousine as James drives me to the pent
RavenI pull out my phone.Her name is Vivienne Cole. Iâd known the name long before Roman ever did, everyone knew Vivienne Cole. She was Miss America at twenty-two, she has the kind of beauty that didnât seem real, the kind you stared at as a little girl and genuinely wondered if she was a differe
Roman I have been in rooms with presidents. I have negotiated deals that made grown men sweat through their suits. I have buried a woman I loved and kept my composure at her graveside because my daughter needed me to be steady and I was. I am not steady right now. I knew she was coming. I had







