LOGINElowen's POV
Evelyn's eyes moved between us like she'd stumbled into a conversation she hadn't been invited to.
Diego didn't miss a beat. He switched his glass to his other hand and held out the right one, easy, unhurried. A proper introduction this time, not the ambush outside the elevators.
"Not properly," he said, his voice low enough to raise the hair on my arms. "Diego Wallace."
I looked
Elowen's POVThe ninetieth floor of Vane Global had always felt like a fishbowl built out of soundproof glass.Everyone could see you, but nobody could hear you. For eight months I'd sat behind my desk hyper-aware of every associate walking past, every glance from Croft's corner, every time Killian's shadow crossed my doorway.On Tuesday morning, for the first time, I sat in that chair and didn't care who was looking in.My hand rested in my purse, thumb tracing the heavy, jagged teeth of the brass key Evelyn had given me. A small, physical reminder that a whole world existed outside this building, one that smelled like cedar and old paper, where my name was just a name and not something to be used against me.I pulled my hand out, set the purse in the bottom drawer, and turned on my computer.I'd barely opened the morning shipping reports wh
Elowen's POVThe cab ride back to Midtown felt like crossing a border between two entirely different countries.Downtown, the streets were narrow and uneven, the buildings weathered by a century of rain. Uptown, the world sharpened back into glass, steel, and right angles. By the time the cab pulled to the curb outside the tower, the strange, buzzing warmth I'd carried out of Diego's workshop had settled into something quieter, but it hadn't disappeared.I stepped into the private elevator and slid my hand into my coat pocket. My fingers brushed the cold, heavy brass of the key Evelyn had given me.I didn't take it out. I just kept my hand wrapped around it as the floor numbers climbed, letting its weight anchor me before the doors opened onto the ninetieth floor.The penthouse was quiet, the evening city spread out past the glass like a handful of crushed diamon
Elowen's POVEvelyn's words hung in the quiet elegance of the Colony Club, mingling with the faint clink of silver on china.A lead architect I believe you've already met.I stared at her across the white tablecloth, my fingers tightening slightly around the handle of my teacup."Diego," I said. Not a question.Her smile widened, bright and entirely unapologetic. "He's the best restoration architect on the eastern seaboard, darling. I don't say that because he's my sister's boy. I say it because the man treats nineteenth-century masonry like it's alive.""You set this up," I said, level. "The introduction at the Morgan Library. You knew the Conservancy needed a finance chair, and you knew he was the lead.""I'm an old woman who likes her foundations run properly," she said, sipping her tea. "I saw a brilliant, terrifyingl
Elowen's POVMonday morning arrived with a low, driving rain that turned the skyline into a smear of cold gray beyond the penthouse glass.I was up by six, moving through the motions of getting dressed with the rigid discipline I reached for whenever I needed to put a weekend behind me. Hair pinned tight. A slate gray suit that felt more like armor than wool. The heavy wedding band slid onto my hand, cold against my skin.By the time I walked into the main room, the apartment was already awake, smelling of coffee and rain, but Killian wasn't in the breakfast nook.I walked down the hall toward his study, carrying the shipping summary he'd asked for the night before. The heavy doors stood half open. The room was empty, the desk lamp casting a warm circle of light across the leather blotter.I stepped inside, set the folder down on the edge of his desk, and turned
Elowen's POVEvelyn's eyes moved between us like she'd stumbled into a conversation she hadn't been invited to.Diego didn't miss a beat. He switched his glass to his other hand and held out the right one, easy, unhurried. A proper introduction this time, not the ambush outside the elevators."Not properly," he said, his voice low enough to raise the hair on my arms. "Diego Wallace."I looked at his hand a second too long before Evelyn cleared her throat, dry and pointed, and I put mine into his. His grip was warm, firmer than his lazy posture suggested, and he held on half a second longer than politeness required before letting go."Elowen Blackwood," I said, crisp."Well?" Evelyn looked between us, her glass still hovering halfway to her mouth. "How do you already know his name if you haven't properly met?""Your nephew
Elowen's POVSunday morning began without any of the usual alarms.The light in the bedroom was pale and thin, filtered through the winter mist that always seemed to sit over the river until noon. On the nightstand, my water glass caught the sun, throwing a small, sharp prism across the dark wood.Beside me, the sheets were cool and empty, but Killian hadn't driven out to New Jersey this time. Through the open dressing room door I could hear the quiet rustle of the Sunday papers turning, followed by the soft clink of a cup meeting its saucer.I stayed under the covers a few minutes longer than I needed to, just letting the quiet sit there. After months of waking up with my pulse already a step ahead of whatever crisis the day had planned, an empty morning felt almost strange, like a contract nobody had thought to find the loophole in yet.When I finally got up, I







