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First of all, thank you for clicking on this story, it honestly means more than you know. There are so many books out there, and the fact that you chose to stop here, even for a moment, means a lot. Iâm still learning my way around GoodNovel. Iâm figuring out how the app works, how readers interact, and how to keep up with updates. So, if youâre reading this early on, youâre part of the beginning of my journey here. Youâre helping me build something from the ground up. Iâll be releasing chapters in small batches â sometimes two a day if I can but I donât want to rush it. Iâd rather give you something complete and worth reading than something that feels half done. Iâm balancing real life and writing, so please bear with me. If you enjoy what you read, leaving a short comment, a vote, or even a simple emoji really helps. It keeps the story visible to others and reminds me that people are actually following along. Every small interaction counts more than you think. Right now, Iâm focused on consistency. I want to keep the flow steady and make sure you donât have to wait too long for the next update. Iâm also working on keeping the chapters clean, improving my pacing, and staying true to the characters. Writing online is a learning process, and Iâm taking it one chapter at a time. Itâs been only a few days since I started â my fifth day, actually and there are already thirty-eight readers following this story. That might not sound like much, but to me, itâs huge. It means real people have read my words and decided to stay. I canât thank you enough for that. I know every author says this, but I really mean it: your support matters. When you leave a comment, I see it. When you vote, it helps more than you realize. Those small moments of encouragement make me want to keep writing, even on the days when itâs hard. This story might not be perfect, but itâs honest. Every chapter is written with effort and thought. Some parts may move fast, others a bit slower but thatâs how stories breathe. I hope, somewhere in between, you find something that sticks with you. --- PREFACE Before you start, I want to say this clearly: This is a work of fiction. Everything youâll read â the names, places, businesses, and events comes from imagination. Some details may feel familiar, but theyâre not taken from real life. Any resemblance to real people, living or dead, or to actual events, is purely coincidental. This story is meant for entertainment. Itâs not based on anyoneâs personal life or experiences. I decided to include this note because I know how easily people connect fiction to reality, and Iâd rather say it upfront. The goal here is just to tell a story. Nothing more, nothing less. Thank you again for giving this a chance. Whether you read one chapter or stay till the end, I appreciate you being here. Iâm learning, improving, and building this story in real time, and having even one reader who sticks around makes it worth it. So, welcome. Enjoy the story, take your time with it, and feel free to share your thoughts as you read along. â RINA BALDWINDamon spotted her before she saw him.Suzy sat in the farthest corner of the small, close-knot cafĂ©, hunched over her phone, scrolling without purpose, her nails tapping rhythmically against the screen. Her hairâstill the same glossy brown he remembered from collegeâfell over one shoulder in deliberate waves, the kind that required time, effort, and an audience.He exhaled slowly.This was his chance.He could turn around, step right back out the door, blame some emergency later. He actually took half a step back.But thenââHeeyyy!!âHer voice shrieked across the cafĂ©, bouncing off ceramic cups and hushed conversations, and every head turned. Damon froze. Of course she saw him. Of course his one second of hesitation was enough to betray him. She waved wildly, as if she were trying to flag down an aircraft.He forced a tight smile, one that strained at the corners of his jaw, and walked toward her. Each step felt like a decision he regretted. When he reached the table, she stood abru
THREE NIGHTS AGOThe rain that night didnât fall so much as it slashedâthin, knifing sheets that made everything outside the hospital blur into streaks of drowning yellow light. Perfect weather for slipping into places one didn't belong in. He stood across the street first, hood drawn low, hands shoved into the pockets of a stolen orderlyâs jacket. Gideon hadnât said much when he gave the orderâjust that flat, cold âFind out.â The kind of command that meant come back with the truth or donât come back at all. Diego swallowed, pulled his mask up over his nose, and crossed the road.He moved through the lobby toward the elevators, passing nurses with paperwork, a security guard scrolling through his phone, a janitor leaning on her mop. None of them looked at him twice.Good.He slid into the elevator just as the doors began to close.The fluorescent light overhead buzzed as he tugged at the collar of the too-tight jacket and watched the numbers climbâ3⊠4⊠5âŠWhen the doors opened, the a
Marco handed Gideon the rod with a stiff arm, his face tight, jaw braced. Gideonâs fingers curled around the cold steel like it belonged thereâas natural to him as breath. His gaze never left Diego.âYou have one last chance to answer me correctly,â Gideon spat, the words razor-sharp. His fingers moved to the front of his shirt, popping open the top two buttons with slow, deliberate flicks. The small motions echoed tension. He wanted mobility. He wanted no restrictions for what was coming.âDid you or did you not fuck her?âThe rod gleamed as he shifted his grip.Diego swallowed hard. His Adam's apple bobbed like he was physically forcing the truthâor a lieâdown his throat. His eyes darted briefly to Richard, then to Marco, then back to Gideon.âI didnât, sir.âGideon stared at him for three seconds.Four.Five.Then he reached for the whiskey glass on the crate beside him. He lifted it, emptied it in one burning swallow, tossed his head back slightly as the alcohol slid down, and exh
Somewhere in New York A single bulb swung overhead in the dimly lit warehouse, casting uneven shadows that dragged and stretched as the men shifted.Richard sat at the head of the old metal table, fingers drumming in an unbroken rhythm. His jaw was locked, his posture composed, but the tension brewing underneath was volcanic.Across from him, Gideon Vale reclined in his chair with the unhurried confidence of someone who owned fear. He didnât speak. Didnât need to. His expression was unreadable as he lifted a cigarette to his lips and took a long, slow drag.The ember glowed, reflecting briefly in his eyes.Then he exhaledâone lazy plume of smoke drifting upward, curling in the cold air.Marco, one of his men stood at his left, hands clasped, eyes fixed on the ground. Diego leaned against a support beam near the table, arms folded, chewing the inside of his cheek. Tomas paced, restless, his large boots thudding softly on the cracked floor.Gideo
Steam still clung to Damonâs skin as he stepped out of the bathroom, towel slung low around his hips and another draped over his shoulders. Droplets ran down his chest, as he rubbed the towel through his hair, brisk and impatient, before tossing it asideâonly to freeze when his phone lit up on the nightstand. Two missed calls. One from Barnes, and the other from Felix. His jaw tightened, muscles flexing beneath damp skin. âWhat the hellâŠâ he muttered under his breath. He ignored Felix for now and tapped Barnesâs number. The line connected within a ring. âBarnes,â Damon said, âWhatâs gotten you so worked up youâre calling me atââ He glanced at the wall clock. ââthis early?â On the other end, the officerâs breath came a little fast, like heâd been pacing. âSirâIâm glad youâre in Spain and not back in New York.âDamonâs brows drew together, slow and dangerous. Water still trickled down the lines of his torso, but he didnât reach for a towel this time. He stood perfectly still.
The next morning, Lena stirred under the warm weight of the cotton sheets, a faint stiffness pulled through her lower back, a reminder of everything sheâd doneâŠand everything she shouldnât have done. She blinked her eyes open slowly. Damon was sitting up beside her, propped against the headboard, staring at her. She'd been intimate with a couple of people but no one ever stared at her like some creepy psychopath. Her stomach tightened. So it hadnât been a dream after all. She actually shared a vulnerable moment with her bossâor whatever the hell he was to her nowâand then proceeded to fuck him afterward. There was nothing normal about that. She forced a small sound out of her throat, a shaky attempt at normalcy. âMorning,â she mused, her voice softer and scratchier than she expected. Her fingers curled instinctively toward the sheets, tugging them up over her chest. âI umââ âAbout last night.â He started before she could finish, his voice low, gravelly in the morning quiet.







