The Ghost Of Wall Street : Twisted Vows

There are a thousand ways to die in New York City. Tonight, falling sixty stories from a rain-soaked skyscraper balcony into the raging storm below felt almost like mercy compared to the man waiting inside.

“Vivian, hurry the fuck up. The system reboots in three minutes!” Markus’s voice cracked through my AirPods, raw with fear.

The security guard had worked here for seven years, and helping me tonight was a risk that could cost him everything. It had taken months of careful manipulation to get him to open those doors for me. In the end, all it took was a promise of my body when this was over.

My fingers flew over the sleek keyboard in the pitch-black office, my heart hammering against my ribs. The massive floor-to-ceiling windows showed the New York City skyline drowning in the midnight storm. Rain lashed violently against the glass as thunder rolled like distant warnings.

Downloading: Project Genesis… 30%… 78%… 85%

At exactly 11:42 PM on this freezing Friday night, I, Clara Sterling, twenty-five years old, risked throwing away my entire future by stealing from the most ruthless billionaire on Wall Street. For six months, I had been planning this moment, seeking revenge for what he did to my family. And tonight, with a classified file downloading onto my flash drive, I finally had the weapon I needed to destroy him.

The office reeked of unchallenged power, rich agarwood, warm amber, and cold money. A tailored suit jacket draped over the leather chair. A crystal glass of scotch sat on the desk, the ice barely melted.

Something felt wrong.

“That’s weird,” I murmured, dread creeping up my spine.

“Markus? Do you copy?”

Dead silence.

Then his voice exploded through my ear. “Vivian, he’s in the building. He’s coming up right now. Get the fuck out.”

A low, elegant chime sounded from the private elevator down the hall.

I whipped back to the screen.

Downloading: Project Genesis… 95%… 100%.

D******d complete.

I yanked the encrypted flash drive free and shoved it deep into my bra, the cold plastic pressing against my skin. No pockets in this tight black dress. No time.

Heavy footsteps echoed down the corridor. The lights suddenly blazed on, flooding the office with blinding brightness.

I froze.

Julian Cross stood in the doorway like the devil had just stepped out of the storm, filling the space with a presence that was impossible to ignore.

At twenty years old, he was already known as the Ghost of Wall Street—a rising force whose name carried weight in every financial circle.

Tall and broad-shouldered, with the lean, athletic build of someone accustomed to being in control, he looked every bit as formidable as the rumors suggested.

His white shirt was unbuttoned at the collar, the sleeves rolled up to reveal his strong forearms.

When his icy blue eyes settled on me, they held a sharp, unsettling intensity that made it difficult to look away.

This was the man who had destroyed my father.

The man I had spent months hating.

And the reason I was standing here now.

“Vivian Vance,” his deep, gravelly voice sliced through the quiet room. He took one slow step forward. “What the hell are you doing in my office?”

My breath caught in my throat, but I quickly forced an innocent tone into my voice.

“I-I’m sorry, sir. I came by this afternoon to drop off a file, but you weren’t here. I think I must have dropped my apartment keys somewhere near your desk.”

He stalked closer, his gaze dropping from my face to my empty hands. His large, warm fingers gripped my chin, tilting my face up to meet those merciless eyes. The touch sent an unwanted feeling through my body.

“Your keys?” he repeated dangerously.

“Yes, sir. I begged Markus to let me up. I can’t get home without them.”

“You’re either a very bad liar,” he murmured, his thumb pressing into my jaw, “or you enjoy playing with fire.”

Frantic footsteps echoed down the hallway before Markus burst into the office, pale and visibly rattled.

“Mr. Cross,” he said breathlessly. “She was crying about her keys. That’s why I let her up. She’s only been here a minute, I swear.”

Julian didn’t glance at him. His cold gaze stayed pinned on me.

“So you’re the idiot who allowed this little rat into my office.”

Markus stammered, but Julian cut him off.

“Did I ask you to speak? She has a mouth. Let her do the talking.”

Those icy eyes drilled into mine.

“Miss Vance. Do you know whose office you’re standing in?”

“I’m not lying, sir. Check my bag. There’s nothing there but my things and keys, I promise.”

A dark glint flashed in his eyes.

“I only called you a liar. Not a thief. It’s interesting where your mind went first.”

Fuck.

The single word echoed in my head.

His fingers tightened, forcing my attention back to him.

“Hey,” he said sharply. “Look at me.”

I obeyed, my breath shallow.

“Do I look like a man who gives a fuck about your pathetic story?”

Desperate for an escape, I threw my hands up. The movement tightened my dress across my chest, clearly revealing the shape of the flash drive hidden against my cleavage.

Julian’s gaze dropped there, landing exactly where I had hoped it wouldn’t. A dark look of satisfaction crossed his face. He released my jaw and stepped back.

“You have exactly sixty seconds to take out whatever you’re hiding in your dress.”

The room seemed to spin for a second.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I said, hating how unsteady my voice sounded.

“I won’t repeat myself.” His tone turned ice cold. “Take it out, or my security will rip that dress off your body. And trust me, Vivian… they won’t be gentle.”

He leaned in, his icy blue eyes fixed on mine, sharp enough to cut through every lie I had left.

“Vivian Vance… Strip.”

The command hung in the air like a blade at my throat. I froze, hands raised, the flash drive digging into my chest with every breath I took.

“Sir, please,” I whispered, my voice cracking. “You’re making a mistake. I haven’t done anything.”

Julian didn’t look angry. That terrified me most. A dark, predatory fascination gleamed in his eyes as he studied my panic.

He raised his wrist, checking his watch.

“Forty-five seconds, Vivian. If my team has to strip you, they won’t be gentle.”

Markus stood frozen.

“Mr. Cross…”

Julian’s voice dropped to steel.

“Another word and I’ll throw you out that window myself.”

Silence.

My mind raced for an escape. The balcony doors behind me. The storm raging. Lightning flashing. The word distraction echoed in my mind. I just needed one chance.

“Thirty seconds.”

Julian stepped even closer, his scent wrapping around me, warm and suffocating.

“Twenty seconds.”

“I’m telling the truth,” I cried. “This is a big misunderstanding, sir. Please.”

“Ten seconds.”

His hand hovered near the top button of my dress.

Before I could even find my voice—

“Time’s up.”

My heart stopped as his fingers closed around my bra.

Driven by panic, Markus moved fast and recklessly. He lunged across the desk, snatched up a heavy bronze statue, and hurled it straight at the glass doors.

The impact was instant.

The room detonated into noise and light.

Shattered glass exploded inward like a storm breaking free, shards spinning through the air as freezing rain and violent wind ripped into the office. The room descended into chaos in a single heartbeat. Papers whipped off desks, alarms screamed to life, and the skyline vanished behind a curtain of rain and broken glass.

And just like that… there was no turning back.

“Run, Vivian. Go!” Markus screamed.

Julian spun around so fast I barely saw him move. His hand closed around Markus’s throat, and a second later, Markus hit the floor with a sickening thud.

Alarms blared. Armed guards rushed in, pinning Markus down.

Blinded by panic, I bolted for the open balcony.

The moment I stepped outside, I realized my mistake.

Dead end.

I crashed into the wet railing and grabbed it for balance. Beyond it, sixty stories of darkness yawned below, swallowing the city lights.

Julian stepped out into the pouring rain, his white shirt plastered to his powerful frame. He crowded me against the rail, rain streaming down his face, trapping me completely.

“I’ll ask one last time,” he said, his voice cutting through the wind. “What the fuck are you hiding in your bra?”

Trapped and overwhelmed, I blurted, “It’s an insulin pump. I’m diabetic, sir. Medical equipment.”

His low, mocking laugh cut through the storm.

“Your third lie, Miss Sterling. You’re really bad at this.”

Hearing him call my real name hit like a punch.

He pinned me harder, his hand sliding beneath my wet collar. His knuckles grazed my chest as he yanked the drive free. Water poured down the casing as he pocketed it.

“I know exactly who you are,” Julian whispered, his lips brushing my ear. “Clara Sterling. Daughter of Arthur Sterling. So you came to steal from me.”

“Give it back!” I screamed, clawing at his shirt, sobbing in the downpour. “You destroyed my father. You monster.”

Julian caught my jaw, forcing my face toward his.

“Game over, Clara. The drive stays with me. And so do you.”

His lips brushed mine, cold and wet.

“You belong to me now.”