The Billionaire's Private Arrangement
When she finally set the cup down, her hand lingered on the saucer, her nails tapping lightly against the china ware in a rhythm only she understood.
“Seventeenth,” she said aloud, testing the word. “That’s our day.”
Her lips curved into a small, satisfied smile.
The city’s lights began to flicker on outside the window, one by one, like constellations blooming in the dark. She stood there, watching them.
Inside her head, the world was no longer chaos. It was order.
By the time the seventeenth came, no one would suspect.
No one would ever know.
And Damian Blackwood’s life, his legacy, would belong to her. And that's a promise to herself.