Semua Bab Billion Dollar Regrets: 21 Nights of Payback: Bab 1 - Bab 10

The champagne flute feels like a weapon in my hand.I'm standing in the ballroom of the Plaza Hotel, surrounded by Manhattan's elite, watching a man who destroyed my entire world laugh at some joke I can't hear. He's got his arm around a blonde woman who's wearing a ring that could feed a family for a year. They look perfect together. Golden. Untouchable.He has no idea I'm here.I adjust the crisp white shirt of my catering uniform and force myself to breathe. In. Out. You've got this, Aria. The silver tray in my other hand holds twelve glasses of Dom Pérignon, each one worth more than I used to make in a day back when I was... well, back when I was someone else entirely."Excuse me, miss?" A woman in a gown that costs more than my rent snaps her fingers at me. Doesn't even look at my face. Just sees the uniform.That's the thing about being invisible—it gives you power in unexpected ways.I smile. Hand her a glass. Move through the crowd like a ghost at her own funeral.Three years.

I can't get her face out of my head.It's been three days since the engagement party. Three days since Aria Kane—correction, Aria fucking Kane—appeared like a ghost and dumped champagne all over Victoria before vanishing into the night. Three days of Victoria's hysterics, the wedding planner's panicked calls, and my own mind spinning in circles trying to understand what the hell just happened.She was supposed to be gone. Broken. Disappeared into whatever hole people fall into when you destroy their lives.Instead, she looked... God, I don't even know how to describe it. Different. Harder. There was something in her eyes that wasn't there before—something cold and sharp and dangerous.Something that scared the shit out of me."Are you even listening?" Victoria's voice cuts through my thoughts. We're in my office—my corner office on the 75th floor that I'm probably going to lose in the next quarter if things don't turn around. She's perched on the edge of my desk, perfectly manicured n

I don't sleep.Can't sleep. Every time I close my eyes, I see her—not the cold, powerful woman from the office, but the girl from three years ago. The one who laughed at my terrible jokes. The one who'd curl into me after we made love and trace patterns on my chest while telling me about her dreams.The one I destroyed.It's 3 AM and I'm in my study, laptop open, going through every document in the digital copies Aria's assistant emailed me. "A preview," Maya Chen's message said. "So you know Ms. Sterling isn't bluffing."She's not bluffing.Jesus Christ, she's not bluffing.Every transaction I thought was buried. Every bribe I thought was untraceable. Every corner I cut, every law I bent, every ethical line I crossed—it's all here. Documented with the kind of thoroughness that could only come from someone with unlimited resources and unlimited motivation.My father taught me how to hide money. How to create shell companies and offshore accounts. How to make illegal deals look legitim

The Mandarin Oriental ballroom is exactly the kind of place where Manhattan's elite come to pretend they care about charity.Crystal chandeliers. Champagne towers. Women in gowns that cost more than most people's annual salary. Men in tuxedos discussing deals that'll make or break companies before dessert is served.I'm wearing Valentino. Red. The kind of red that makes people look twice. The kind that says I belong here, that I've always belonged here, that I wasn't serving these same people appetizers two weeks ago.Damien's wearing Armani. Black tuxedo, crisp white shirt, looking every inch the billionaire he's pretending to still be.Except tonight, he's not here as a guest.He's here as my assistant."Stay close," I tell him as we walk through the entrance. "When I need something, you get it. When I'm talking to someone, you stand two steps behind me and don't speak unless spoken to. Understand?"His jaw tightens. "Yes.""Yes, what?"A pause. I can see the war happening behind th

Room service arrives at seven.I ordered everything I remembered from that first night—filet mignon, lobster tail, some ridiculously expensive wine I couldn't pronounce then and barely can now. The server sets it all up on the dining table by the windows, the Strip glittering below us like a promise the city can't keep.Damien watches from across the room. Silent. Waiting."Sit," I tell him once we're alone.He sits.I take the chair across from him, the table a safe distance between us. Neutral territory. Except nothing about this room is neutral. Every surface holds a memory. Every corner whispers about who we used to be."Eat," I say."I'm not hungry.""I don't care. Eat anyway." I cut into my steak. Force myself to take a bite even though my stomach's in knots. "You're going to need your strength for what comes after dinner."That gets his attention. Fear flickers across his face, followed by something else. Something that looks almost like anticipation.God, we're both so broken.