LOGINIf Elizabeth had any doubts about her unstable emotional state over the past twenty-four hours, besides the painful truth that she had foolishly fallen in love with Henri Gagnon, she now had clear proof that her life was spiraling out of control. Pale-faced and trembling, she walked back into the long, marble-tiled bathroom. For what felt like the twentieth time in thirty minutes, she forced herself to look at the sleek white test sitting on the sink’s edge. It was not alone; there were two others just like it. Three cruel little plastic tests lined up silently against the polished white quartz. Pink. Pink. Pink. All three showed the same, undeniable pink lines in their double windows. Of course they did. When it rained in Elizabeth Stone’s life, it did not just drizzle; it unleashed a devastating hurricane. When one foundation crumbled, the whole structure fell apart. When your world decided to crash down around you, no amount of wishing or bargaining could change the outcome.
She was cleaning up his office the next morning when Henri stopped at the doorway. The sight of Elizabeth fussing with the coffee maker froze him and stirred something deep inside him. As she poured a black cup, just how he liked it, the plain shirt she wore stretched across her chest. "Good morning." She looked up, surprised. "Mr. Gagnon." Her chest rose and fell as she took a quick breath. He stepped inside and closed the doors behind him. "Good morning, Miss Stone." Elizabeth held the black coffee mug against her chest and stared at him, wary as if he might uncover her secrets. "Can I get you anything, Mr. Gagnon?" "That will be all. Thank you, Miss Stone." He watched her quietly return to her desk through the blinds of his office. He noticed her shoulders drop slightly—not from surrender, but from the weight of an exhaustion she was trying hard to hide. He wanted to lift her burden. He wanted to tell her just how much he desired her. Memories of Lyon flooded his mind. Wha
A sudden, sharp crack of thunder echoed across the penthouse glass, vibrating through the dark room and shattering the memory into a thousand pieces. Henri blinked, abruptly returning to the quiet space. He took a deep, shuddering breath, feeling the cool air of his air-conditioned living room fill his lungs. His hand was tightly clenched into a fist against the leather sofa, his knuckles white, just as they had been years ago against William Stone’s desk.He sat up slowly, rubbing his temples where a dull ache was starting to pulse. He had kept his word. He had honored it completely, even when it required ruthless actions that made him despise his own reflection. When William finally passed away in that quiet, sunlit room, the wolves had arrived just as the old man had predicted. Elizabeth’s brother, Tom, initially ran the company smoothly, but later fell apart, becoming a gambling-addicted hedonist after losing his wife and daughter. Elizabeth had been blind to it, trusting her
Slowly and deliberately, William reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a black Montblanc fountain pen. He placed it on the desk, where it made a soft sound."I’ll give you seventy-five million," William said quietly. "And I’ll still only take ten percent."Henri blinked, his carefully prepared response fading away. He calculated the numbers in his mind, looking for a catch, a trap, or a hidden clause that would give away control. "Why?" he asked, completely caught off guard. "That overvalues us by twenty-five million. It makes no sense."William didn't reply right away. He got up, the leather chair creaking under him, and walked around the large mahogany desk. He stood just inches from Henri. The warmth and curiosity in his eyes vanished, replaced by a serious, almost frightening weight."Because money is cheap, Henri. Trust isn't," William said. He put a heavy hand on Henri’s shoulder. It felt like iron. "My family's firm was built on tradition. But the world is changing. It's
When Matthew casually said “will do” and disappeared into the corridor, the sudden silence in the penthouse felt heavy. Henri stood by the floor-to-ceiling windows for a moment, listening to the quiet hum in his ears. He glanced down at the tumbler of scotch in his right hand. He swirled it once, watched the liquor streak down the glass, and drank the rest in one swift, burning gulp. The peat hit the back of his throat, grounding him, but it couldn’t stop the change in the air. He crossed the floor to the deep leather sofa, worn soft from years of quiet, late-night pacing, and collapsed onto it. He leaned his head back against the leather, covering his eyes with his forearm to block out the low ambient glow of the city outside. He tried to concentrate on the present. He tried to think about the logistics of the coming week. But the quiet was thick, and the scotch was strong. The images tugged at him, slow and relentless, dragging him back, out of the silent penthouse and ten yea
Without a word, Henri stood up from his desk. He walked past Matthew, his long strides taking him across the living room and into the quiet, dim space of his private reading room. The air smelled of old leather, mahogany dust, and cedar. He went straight to the floor-to-ceiling brass safe hidden behind a false panel of books. After punching in a six-digit code, he heard the heavy electronic lock click open.A few seconds later, he returned to the bright living room, holding a thick, worn manila folder in his right hand. "This," Henri said, lifting the folder into the light, "is our leverage."He raised it for a moment, letting the weight of the paper hang in the air between them. Then he tossed it onto the table in front of Matthew.Matthew picked it up, his sharp eyes scanning the label before opening the heavy cardboard cover. He began flipping through the packed pages of financial audits, bank statements, wire receipts, and signed affidavits."In that folder," Henri explained, his







