LOGINDamien’s Pov
The lawyer read the will conditions again like I hadn’t heard them a hundred times. Elena sat beside me in the sleek conference room, legs crossed, looking every bit the poised future wife. She played the part well. Too well.
“Thirty days from the reading,” the lawyer said. “Legal marriage, public appearance of unity. Otherwise Cross Technologies transfers to Adrian Cross.”
Elena reached over and laced her fingers through mine. The touch was warm. I squeezed back harder than necessary.
“We understand,” she said sweetly. “We’re ready.”
Later in the car she pulled her hand away like it burned her.
“How long have you known about this marriage clause?” she asked.
“Long enough.” I watched the city blur past. “Adrian can’t get the company. He’d sell our defense contracts to people who shouldn’t have them.”
She was quiet for a moment. “You really care about protecting something.”
I glanced at her. “Surprised?”
“Maybe.” Her voice softened. “I thought you only cared about winning.”
The words hit harder than they should. I remembered late-night messages with S again. She used to say things like that too, challenging me to be more than the ruthless CEO the world saw.
“Why does that surprise you?” I asked, turning to face her fully. “You think I’m some heartless machine who only wants more money and power?”
Elena shrugged, looking out the window. “Most men in your position are. Why should you be any different?”
“Because losing everything once taught me what actually matters,” I replied. “The company isn’t just numbers on a screen. It’s thousands of jobs. It’s technology that keeps this country safe. Adrian would burn it all for a quick payday.”
She turned back to me, eyes searching. “And you expect me to believe you’re doing this purely for noble reasons? Not because you hate losing control?”
I gave a short laugh. “I won’t lie. I hate losing. But this isn’t just about me. If Adrian takes over, a lot of people suffer. Including you, now that you’re tied to me.”
“Great. No pressure,” she muttered. “What exactly do you expect me to do as your fake wife? Smile and wave at parties?”
“More than that,” I said. “You need to convince the board that this is real. They like you already. Use that. Attend meetings with me, give your input, act like we’re a team.”
Elena crossed her arms. “A team? You barely trust me. How are we supposed to sell that?”
“By practicing,” I answered. “Starting the moment we get home. No more slipping up in front of staff or cameras. We eat together, talk together, and make it look natural.”
“Natural,” she repeated with a bitter edge. “Nothing about this feels natural, Damien. One minute you’re accusing me of sabotage, the next you’re asking me to play a loving wife. Which version of you am I supposed to believe?”
“The one that keeps both of us from losing everything,” I said. “You’re smart. You know how this game works. Help me convince the board and I’ll make sure you’re taken care of long after this ends.”
Elena leaned back against the seat. “Taken care of? Like some kept woman? I don’t need your charity, Damien. I need this arrangement to be worth the risk I’m taking.”
“What risk?” I challenged. “You walked into my company ready to tear it apart. Don’t pretend you’re the innocent one here.”
She turned sharply. “And you? Acting like some savior when you’ve destroyed lives without blinking. Tell me, do you even remember the Hart family? Or were they just another line item on your balance sheet?”
The name hit me like cold water. “I remember them. I’ve spent years trying to prove I wasn’t the one who destroyed them. Why does that matter so much to you?”
“Because people like you rewrite history,” she said quietly. “You crush others and call it business. Then you want sympathy when your own empire is threatened.”
I studied her face. “You speak like someone who lost more than just a job. What aren’t you telling me, Elena?”
She looked away. “We all have scars. Mine aren’t your business.”
We got home and the tension followed us inside.
“I need to know you won’t sabotage my company while we’re doing this,” I told her in the living room.
Elena turned, fire in her eyes. “Then stop treating me like an enemy. You proposed, remember?”
“Because I need you. The board likes you. They think you humanize me.”
She laughed bitterly. “Humanize you? That’s funny.”
I stepped closer, backing her against the marble island. “Tell me the truth. Do you hate me, Elena? I see it sometimes. Flashing behind your eyes.”
Her breathing quickened. “You have no idea what I feel.”
“Do you?” I pressed. “One minute you’re challenging me like you want to tear me down, the next you’re holding my hand like we’re actually in this together. Which one is real?”
Elena lifted her chin. “Both can be true. I want to survive this arrangement and still not like you very much.”
“Not like me?” I leaned in. “Or not like what I represent? Tell me, Elena. What did I do to earn this coldness from you?”
“You assume everything is about you,” she shot back. “Maybe I just don’t trust billionaires who throw around marriage proposals like business deals.”
“It is a business deal,” I reminded her. “One that benefits us both. Unless you have another motive you’re not telling me.”
She placed a hand on my chest, not pushing me away but not pulling me closer either. “And what if I do? Would you call it off? Send me back to my tiny apartment and find another fake wife?”
“No,” I said honestly. “Because no one else has the board’s ear like you do. And no one else feels this… familiar.”
“Familiar again,” she whispered. “You keep saying that. What if I’m not who you think I am? What if this all blows up in your face?”
“Then we both lose,” I replied. “But something tells me you won’t let that happen. You’re too calculated.”
Our faces were inches apart. I could smell her perfume, something soft and expensive that made my chest ache with old memories. For one reckless second I wanted to kiss her, to see if she tasted like the woman I’d lost.
My phone rang. Adrian.
I answered the speaker without thinking.
“Well, well,” my cousin’s smug voice came through. “Heard you’re getting married to some nobody consultant. Cute. Won’t save you though.”
Elena’s eyes widened.
“Watch me,” I said coldly and hung up.
She stared at me. “He sounds dangerous.”
“He is.” I brushed a strand of hair from her face before I could stop myself. “Which is why you and I need to be convincing. Starting with a public date tomorrow night.”
She didn’t pull away immediately. “Fine. But remember, Damien, this marriage has an expiration date.”
As she walked away, I muttered under my breath, “We’ll see about that.”
Damien’s PovThe house went quiet in a way that felt less like peace and more like held breath, security stationed at every entrance, Marcus running perimeter checks every twenty minutes, and Lucy upstairs with Naomi under closer watch than she’d ever known in her life, blissfully unaware that the woman who used to braid her hair was now the reason for it.Selene stood at the study window, watching the gate, the same posture she’d held for the better part of an hour.“You should sit,” I said. “Eat something. Marcus will call the second anything moves.”“I can’t.” She didn’t turn around. “Every time I close my eyes I see her face in the porch light, four nights ago. She’s not there. I keep trying to find the moment I should have known. Some tell I missed.”“There wasn’t one,” I said, crossing to stand beside her. “That’s what made it work. I’ve been doing the same thing you have, running back through every dinner, every pickup, hunting for a version of that night where I saw through he
Selene’s PovRobert Wade’s biometric release took less than a minute once he actually sat down to authorize it, and I found myself holding my breath through all sixty seconds of it, Damien’s hand tight around mine at the edge of the desk, Marcus and Elena both hovering behind the trustee’s chair like the answer might dissolve if they blinked.The screen resolved, and Robert went very still.“What,” Damien said. “Robert. What does it say.”Robert turned the monitor toward us slowly, and I read the name twice before it fully landed, the same way I’d read she’s not who you think twice on my phone screen four nights ago.Beneficiary: Talia Reyes.The room seemed to tilt. Talia, who’d driven Lucy home from Naomi’s that first terrible night. Talia, who’d stood in our driveway with her face white in the porch light and said she’s not there.“That’s not possible,” I said, my voice sounding distant even to myself. “Talia found her at the cabin. Talia’s the one who told us Lucy was missing in t
Damien’s PovThe trust documents arrived at midnight, and Marcus had them spread across the study table before either of us had finished taking off our coats, the house gone quiet around us with Lucy long asleep upstairs.“It’s structured in blind tranches,” Marcus said, flipping through pages with the particular focus of a man who’d been doing this kind of forensic work for a decade. “Whoever set this up wanted even the trustee blind to the beneficiary until activation. But there’s a release clause here, buried in the amendments.” He tapped a page. “Requires a biometric signature to unlock the final beneficiary designation. Robert’s, since he’s trustee of record.”“Then we go back to Robert,” Selene said, already reaching for her coat again.“Not tonight,” I said, and caught her hand before she could finish the motion. “Selene. It’s midnight. He’s not going anywhere, and neither is this trust. We chase this exhausted and we miss something. I need you sharp for whatever’s in these pag
Selene’s PovRobert Wade agreed to meet us on his own turf, a members’ club downtown with dark wood paneling and the particular hush of old money, and I understood the choice for what it was before we’d even sat down — a man reminding us, subtly, that he’d built his standing long before either of us existed.“Damien. Selene.” He rose to greet us, warm, unhurried, nothing in his manner suggesting a man whose name had surfaced in correspondence with two dead conspirators. “Elena mentioned you’d want to talk. I confess I’m still trying to understand what about.”“Helena Marsh,” Damien said, taking a seat without preamble, his hand finding mine under the table the moment we sat, a small steadying anchor before whatever came next. “Vivienne Cross. Correspondence with both of them, eighteen months ago, under your firm’s letterhead.”Something flickered behind Robert’s eyes, quick, controlled, the practiced stillness of a man who’d spent decades in rooms exactly like this one learning not to
Damien’s PovElena’s files arrived just after nine that night, a courier at the gate instead of an email, which told me something about how seriously she was taking her own exposure in this. Marcus spread them across the study table, and Selene stood at my shoulder as we worked through them, her presence steady beside me the way it had been through every version of the last two days.“Here,” Marcus said, pulling a page free. “Client correspondence, eighteen months ago. Robert Wade to an unlisted account. No name attached, just initials. V.C.”“Vivienne Cross,” Selene said quietly.“Confirmed connection, then,” I said. “Not speculation anymore.”“There’s more,” Marcus said, and something in his voice made both of us go still. “A second thread. Same time frame. Initials H.M.”Selene’s hand found the edge of the table, gripping it. “Helena Marsh.”“She’s dead,” I said, working through it out loud. “Helena’s been dead for over a year.”“The correspondence is dated before that,” Marcus sai
Selene’s PovElena Wade’s office looked exactly as it always had, warm wood and soft lighting, a framed photo of her father shaking hands with a senator on the credenza, and I found myself studying every ordinary detail like it might betray something the woman herself wouldn’t.“Selene. Damien.” She rose from behind her desk, smiling, unguarded in a way that either meant total innocence or total confidence in her own performance. “This is unexpected. Is everything all right with the guardianship paperwork?”“We need to ask you something,” Damien said, no preamble, taking the seat across from her without waiting to be offered it. I sat beside him, close enough that our knees touched, needing the contact before this conversation went wherever it was going to go. “Two nights ago, our daughter was taken from a car on Route 9. The property she was taken to traces back through a shell company. That shell company traces back to paperwork you filed personally, eleven years ago.”Elena’s face
Selene/ Elena's Pov “You really think you can walk into Cross Technologies and not get eaten alive, Miss Hale?”I looked straight at the HR woman across the desk, my pulse hammering but my smile steady. “I don’t just think it. I know it. Your luxury division needs someone who understands old money
Selene’s PovThe restaurant was exclusive, lights low, tables spaced for privacy. Damien sat across from me looking unfairly good in a tailored black suit. Cameras waited outside. This was our first public show.“You’re tense,” he said, pouring me more wine. “Relax. Or people will think I’m forcing
Selene’s PovI barely slept.Damien’s proposal played on repeat in my head while I paced my tiny apartment. Fake marriage. The perfect weapon. I could live in his world, learn every weakness, and destroy him slowly. Make him feel the same helplessness my father felt before he died.But those eyes…
Damien’s PovShe was lying.I knew it the moment Elena Hale opened her mouth. The way she held herself, the precise way she answered every question, it was too perfect. And those eyes. Dark, fierce, familiar in a way that clawed at memories I’d buried three years ago.I stood at the floor-to-ceilin







