Chapter 2

The prestigious Aurelia Gold Club was a fortress of glass and arrogance, a place where the air smelled of vintage scotch and old money. Twenty-four hours ago, I was the guest of honor here. Tonight, I was a man standing in the rain, staring at a line of security guards who looked at me like I was a beggar at the gates.

"I’m sorry, Mr. Thorne," the head of security said, his voice devoid of the usual sycophancy. He didn't even use my title. "Your membership was suspended an hour ago. Executive order from the new property owner."

"The property owner?" I gritted my teeth, the cold water seeping through my thousand-dollar suit. "This club is owned by a conglomerate. I’m a board member."

"Was a board member," the guard corrected, stepping aside as a sleek limousine pulled up. "The Vance Group bought the conglomerate’s debt this morning. They’ve closed the club for a private event. The Vance event."

I felt a surge of humiliated fury. The "new property owner" was my ex-wife. Within one business day, Seraphina hadn't just left me; she had begun dismantling the world I stood on.

I didn't leave. I waited. I stood behind the velvet ropes like a commoner, watching the elite of Aurelia City file past. These were people who had laughed at my jokes yesterday. Today, they looked through me as if I were made of glass.

Then, the silver Rolls Royce appeared.

The crowd went silent. The flashbulbs of a hundred cameras turned the night into a blinding strobe light. The door opened, and a man stepped out first. He was tall, with shoulders that seemed to block out the sky and a face that looked like it had been carved from marble.

Julian Vance. The "Ghost King" of the global markets. Seraphina’s brother.

He reached back into the car and offered his hand. When Seraphina stepped out, my breath didn't just hitch—it died in my throat.

She was wearing a gown of midnight blue silk that clung to her curves like a second skin. The Thorne Blue Diamond—the heirloom she had tossed on my desk like trash—glittered around her neck, but it looked different on her now. It didn't look like a family burden; it looked like a trophy. Her pale skin, which I had mocked as "sickly," now glowed with a lethal, ethereal beauty under the spotlights.

She looked powerful. She looked untouchable.

"Seraphina!" I yelled, my voice cracking.

The security guards moved to block me, but she raised a hand. The entire red carpet came to a standstill. Julian Vance looked at me with the kind of coldness one reserves for a bug beneath a boot, but Seraphina... she just looked bored.

She walked toward the rope, her heels clicking against the wet pavement like a countdown.

"Xander," she said. Her voice was smooth, lacking the warmth that used to be my sanctuary. "You’re getting wet. You should go home. Or did you lose that in the margin calls this afternoon, too?"

"We need to talk," I hissed, leaning over the rope. "The donor report. The Vance Group. Why didn't you tell me? Why did you play the role of a pathetic orphan for three years?"

Seraphina leaned in closer, the scent of jasmine and something dangerously sharp hitting my senses. "I didn't play a role, Xander. I lived a life. I wanted to see if the man I saved was worth the sacrifice. I wanted to know if you loved me, or if you just loved having someone to look down on."

She straightened her back, her eyes raking over my bedraggled appearance. "The results were conclusive. You aren't worth a single drop of my blood, let alone my heart."

"I'll sue," I whispered, desperation clawing at my throat. "The merger, the contracts—you’re sabotaging a public company out of spite."

"Spite?" She laughed, a sound like silver bells. "No, Xander. This is just business. You taught me that, remember? 'A CEO needs a partner who brings something to the table.' I’ve decided to take my table back. And unfortunately for you, your company was sitting on it."

She turned to walk away, but I reached out, grabbing her wrist. "Seraphina, wait. I... I made a mistake. My mother, the stress—I didn't know about the transplant. Let’s go inside. Let’s talk about this like adults."

Before I could even blink, Julian Vance’s hand was a vice around my forearm. The pressure was enough to make me gasp.

"Take your hand off my sister," Julian said, his voice a low, terrifying growl. "Before I make sure you never use that arm to sign a contract again."

I let go, stumbling back. Seraphina didn't even look back. She took her brother's arm and began to walk up the stairs.

"Seraphina!" I screamed, the rain now a torrential downpour. "You can't do this! You loved me!"

She paused at the top of the stairs, framed by the golden light of the foyer. She turned her head just enough for me to see the icy curve of her profile.

"I did," she said, her voice carrying over the wind. "But the woman who loved you died on an operating table three years ago. You’re dealing with the woman who survived."

As she disappeared inside, a black towncar pulled up behind me. My assistant, Marcus, hopped out, his face frantic.

"Sir! Sir, you have to come now! It’s the police. They’re at the office."

"The police? For what?" I demanded, my mind spinning.

"It’s not just the merger, Mr. Thorne," Marcus stammered, holding out his phone. "The Vance Group just leaked a series of internal documents. They’re alleging tax evasion and corporate espionage dating back to the year you took over. They have every email, every offshore account..."

My blood turned to ice. Those were files only two people had access to. Me... and the wife who used to organize my digital archives every night.

"There’s more," Marcus whispered, looking at the club doors with terror. "The lead investigator just called. He said they received an anonymous tip about the death of your father. They’re reopening the file, Xander. And they’re naming you as the primary person of interest."

I looked up at the glittering windows of the club. Seraphina was standing behind the glass, a champagne flute in her hand. She raised it in a silent toast, her eyes locking onto mine with a predatory coldness.

She wasn't just taking my money. She was taking my freedom.