The flight back to New York was supposed to be a victory lap, a rare moment of reprieve after the claustrophobic intensity of the Senate hearing. Instead, the atmosphere inside the Thorne private jet—a sanctuary of quilted leather, brushed gold, and soundproofed glass—was heavy with a suffocating sense of dread. Avery sat in the seat opposite Dominic, her hands clasped so tightly in her lap that her knuckles were the color of bleached bone.The hum of the Rolls-Royce engines was a low, steady vibration beneath their feet, but it couldn't mask the erratic, wet sound of Dominic’s breathing. He was reclined in the oversized captain’s chair, his head thrown back, his throat working as he fought for air that seemed to be thinning by the second. His face, usually a mask of aristocratic indifference, was now the color of wet parchment."Dominic," Avery whispered, the word catching in her throat like a shard of glass. She slid off her seat and knelt on the plush carpet at his feet. "The heari
Last Updated : 2026-03-06 Read more