The pen was a loaded gun, and Isla was about to pull the trigger on her own life.She stared at the signature line, black ink on cream paper so expensive it probably cost more than her last meal. The contract sat on Adrian Vale's desk, all those legal words all different ways of saying the same thing: you're mine now.Her hand shook. She hated that it did.This wasn't a choice. Choices were for people who still had something left to lose.Seventy-two hours ago, her entire world had exploded in real-time, broadcasted live for everyone.The charity gala had been her father's stage: David Morgan in full performance, that practiced laugh bouncing off the marble columns like he owned the room and everything in it.Then the microphone shrieked, noise that made everyone wince.A woman in gray suit appeared at the podium with a briefcase and a smile that could've cut diamonds. "Forensic audit complete," she announced, voice carrying over the confused murmurs. "Ten years of systematic embezzle
Last Updated : 2026-04-23 Read more