2

SPENCER’S POV

"To the future!"

The sound of clinking crystal glasses echoed through the penthouse of the Meridian Hotel. I leaned back in my chair, watching the bubbles rise in my vintage Dom Pérignon. Across the table, Hailey was glowing. Her crimson dress was the color of blood and victory, and her hand—the one without the ring yet—was resting on mine.

"You did it, Spencer," Hailey purred, her eyes shining with greed. "The merger is all the talk of the town. My father is thrilled. By next month, Knox Industries will be the largest conglomerate in the Midwest."

I smiled, feeling a surge of raw, masculine ego. "I told you, baby. I just had to cut off the dead weight. You can't run a marathon with a ball and chain attached to your ankle."

"Poor Everly," Hailey giggled, taking a delicate sip of her champagne. "I still can't believe you gave her that shack. She’s probably crying herself to sleep while the roof leaks on her head."

"She’s exactly where she belongs," I said, my voice hardening. "In the dirt. Some people are born to lead, Hailey. Others are born to serve. Everly was a servant who forgot her place. I just reminded her."

I was about to lean in and kiss her when my phone vibrated on the table. It was my CFO, Marcus.

I frowned. "Marcus? It’s nearly midnight. This better be good news."

"Spencer," Marcus’s voice sounded thin, like he was struggling to breathe. "We have a problem. A big one."

"What? Did the Sterling lawyers find a typo? Fix it and stop calling me."

"It’s not the lawyers, Spencer. It’s the banks. Specifically, Chandler National. They just issued an immediate recall on our primary credit line. All forty million dollars. Due by dawn."

The glass in my hand felt suddenly very heavy. "Forty million? By dawn? That’s impossible. Our contract says we have a ninety-day grace period for any liquidation."

"They’ve invoked the 'Zero-Hour' clause, Spencer. They’re claiming Knox Industries has suffered a 'catastrophic loss of moral character' that threatens the bank’s reputation. They’re freezing every asset tied to the Knox name until a full audit is completed."

"Moral character?" I shouted, slamming my fist onto the table. Several diners looked over, but I didn't care. "This is a hit job! Who the hell do they think they are? I’ve been trying to get a meeting with the Chandler Board for three years! They don't even know I exist!"

"They know now," Marcus whispered. "And Spencer... it’s not just the corporate accounts. My personal card was just declined at the gas station. You might want to check yours."

I felt a cold sweat break out on the back of my neck. I looked at Hailey, who was watching me with a worried expression. "Everything okay, honey?"

"Fine," I hissed. I signaled the waiter. "Check, please."

I pulled out my Black Titanium card—the one that had never failed me. I handed it to the waiter with a flourish, trying to maintain the mask of the powerful CEO.

Ten seconds later, the waiter returned. He didn't hand the card back. He held it between two fingers like it was a piece of trash.

"I’m sorry, Mr. Knox. This card has been marked as 'Stolen or Invalid' by the issuing bank. The system is instructing me to confiscate it."

Hailey gasped. My face turned a deep, ugly shade of purple. "Confiscate it? Do you have any idea who I am? I’m the host of the Apex Gala! I’m merging with the Sterling Group!"

"I’m sorry, sir," the waiter said, his voice devoid of any warmth. "But the transaction was declined by an authorized override. The note on the screen says: 'Account closed by the Owner.'"

"The owner? I AM the owner!" I roared.

Suddenly, my phone rang again. A private number.

I snatched it up. "Whoever this is, you’re dead! My lawyers will—"

"Mr. Knox," a calm, terrifyingly familiar voice spoke. It was a voice I had heard in a hundred interviews, the voice of the man who decided which companies lived and which died.

Arthur Vance.

The air left my lungs. My knees felt weak. "M-Mr. Vance? Is that you? I’ve been trying to reach your office for—"

"Save your breath, Spencer," Vance interrupted. His tone was like a blade. "I’m calling to let you know that the Meridian Hotel, the penthouse you’re currently sitting in, and the very chair beneath you have just been acquired by my client."

"Your client? Who? I’ll double their offer! I’ll—"

"You’ll do nothing but leave," Vance said. "My client doesn't want your money. She wants your absence. You have five minutes to exit the premises before security removes you for trespassing."

"She?" I stammered, my heart hammering against my ribs. "What woman? Who is your client, Vance?"

"The woman you told to go back to the trash," Vance replied. I could almost hear the cold smile in his voice. "Enjoy the rain, Spencer. I hear it’s quite cold tonight."

The line went dead.

I looked at the phone, then at Hailey, who was already pulling her hand away from mine. Then I looked at the entrance of the restaurant.

Two massive security guards in black suits were already walking toward our table. They weren't hotel security. They were Vance’s men.

"Spencer? What’s happening?" Hailey asked, her voice shrill with panic.

I couldn't answer. My mind was spinning. Everly? No. It was impossible. She was a nobody. She was in a shack.

But as the guards reached our table and roughly hauled me out of my seat, I saw a black SUV idling under the streetlights outside. The window rolled down just an inch, and for a split second, I saw a pair of eyes. Cold. Sharp. And filled with a power I had never seen before.

Then the car pulled away, leaving me standing on the sidewalk in the pouring rain, without a dime in my pocket and the sound of my kingdom crumbling in my ears.