تسجيل الدخولElena Voss, the heiress to the world's largest media conglomerate, steps out of a private jet looking unassuming but is instantly mobbed by paparazzi. "Ms. Voss, what ended your four-year marriage to Mr. Black?" She flashes a confident smile. "Time to claim my trillion-dollar empire." "And the whispers of you seeing multiple suitors?" Before she can reply, a deep voice cuts in from the crowd. "All lies." Damian Black emerges, eyes locked on her. "I've got a fortune too, Elena. Why not take mine instead?"
عرض المزيدThe office lights were the only ones still burning on the forty-fourth floor when Damian pushed through the double doors at one in the morning.He didn’t bother with the overheads. Just flicked on the desk lamp, dropped into his chair, and poured three fingers of Macallan into the crystal tumbler he kept in the bottom drawer. The amber liquid caught the light like fire.He stared at the empty chair across from him, the one Elena used to sit in during late-night strategy sessions. Now it looked like a ghost.He downed half the glass in one swallow. The burn didn’t help. Nothing helped.His phone sat face down on the desk. He hadn’t checked it in hours. Didn’t want to see another headline. Didn’t want to see her name next to words like “finalized” or “moving on.”But he picked it up anyway.Google alert pinged the second his thumb touched the screen.VOSS HEIRESS SPOTTED LAUGHING WITH BEST FRIEND HOURS AFTER DIVORCE, NEW ERA OR NEW ROMANCE?A blurry paparazzi shot loaded: Elena on Victo
The elevator dinged on the forty-second floor of Victoria’s building, and before the doors even finished opening, I heard her heels clicking fast across the hardwood.“Get in here, you badass!”Victoria Hale, my best friend since college, twenty-eight, zero filter, grabbed my wrist and yanked me into her loft like I was late for my own party. She wore ripped jeans and a silk camisole, hair piled on top of her head in a messy knot, but the energy coming off her could’ve powered half of Manhattan.She shoved a flute of champagne into my hand. Bubbles raced up the glass like tiny fireworks.“To freedom,” she said, clinking her glass against mine so hard I thought it might crack. “And to the bitch who finally stopped apologizing for breathing.”I took a long sip. The cold fizz burned down my throat in the best way.“I signed the papers,” I said.“I know. Theo texted me screenshots of the headlines. ‘Heiress Dumps Billionaire in Dramatic Courthouse Showdown.’ Iconic.”I laughed, really sur
The Voss Media tower rose like a glass blade against the gray afternoon sky, and the second the SUV rolled to a stop at the private entrance, my stomach flipped.Not from nerves. From something sharper, hunger.I hadn’t set foot inside this building in almost three years. Not since the day I told my father I was stepping back to “support Damian’s vision.” The memory tasted like regret now.The driver opened my door. I slid out, still damp from the courthouse rain, coat wrinkled, hair a mess. Two security guys flanked me immediately. No questions. Just movement.We took the executive elevator straight to the sixty-eighth floor. No stops. No small talk. The doors slid open onto polished marble and the faint scent of fresh coffee and printer ink.Marcus Voss waited at the end of the hallway.He looked the same, silver hair swept back, dark suit impeccable, eyes the same warm brown as mine, but carrying decades more weight. When he saw me, his face softened in a way I hadn’t seen since I
The courthouse steps were slick with leftover rain when I stepped out of the black SUV.Cameras flashed before my foot even hit the pavement.“Ms. Voss! Elena! Over here!”Voices shouted my name as they owned it. Phones and lenses shoved forward, bodies pressing in from every side. I pulled the hood of my coat up higher, but it didn’t matter. They already knew why I was here.I kept my head down and moved fast toward the entrance. Security parted the crowd just enough for me to slip through. The noise dropped the second the heavy glass doors closed behind me, muffled now, like bees behind thick glass.My lawyer, Claire, waited inside the lobby. Tall, sharp suit, sharper eyes. She handed me a coffee without asking if I wanted it.“You look like hell,” she said.“Thanks.” I took a sip. It burned my tongue. Good. I needed the sting.She glanced at her watch. “Nine-fifteen. We’re early. The judge’s clerk said we can go straight to the signing room. Damian’s lawyer confirmed he’ll be here












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