e the cage I had lived in for three years. I didn't move. I stayed exactly where I had collapsed the night before-curled in a ball, my cheek pressed aga

rom crying that the world appeared through a hazy, red-rimmed blur. Every time I breathed, the scent of the apartment-stale air, old coffee, and the ling

ings of St. Jude's," missed calls from debt collectors Julian had once kept at bay, and perhaps a final, cold message from his lawyer askin

t was so heavy it felt loud

Knock

ic bird in a cage. Julian. That was my first thought. He had come to see the wreckage. He had come to stand ov

I cleared my throat, my voice trembling with a mix of terror a

ed up, either. It was steady, rhythmic,

or. I have a standing order to avoid pro

nd steel.I pushed myself up, my muscles screaming in protest. I caught my reflection in the hallway mirror and felt a fresh wave of shame. My hair wa

locks I'd installed the day Julian told me about Isabella. I o

d and sharp-eyed, wearing a charcoal suit that was so perfectly tailored it made Julian's wardrobe look like fast fashion. He held a matte-bla

inical, detached focus. He didn't look at me with pity-which was a mercy-but he didn't look at me with res

h world. The man who had single-handedly dismantled three of Julian's f

ntial is being strangled by a man who thinks he's a king." He held out the black envelope. "Mr. Vane has spent the last forty-eight hours contacting every major financial firm in the city. He hasn't just blacklisted you, Miss Thorne.

b; he was trying to put me in prison. He wanted me so terrified, so broken, that I would agree to anything

d into the small foyer of my apartment. He looked around at the boxes and the shadows with an air of mild distaste. "Julian wants you to crawl back to him on yo

r was heavy, cool, and smelled fain

"There is a car waiting downstairs. You will be taken to a villa in the South of France for six months, followed by a year in London. You will be provided w

oming in short, jagged gasps. "And th

He needs someone who knows the interior of the Vane empire. Someone with a personal reason to see it burn."He stepped toward the door, pausing with his hand on the frame. "Julian Vane thinks he threw away a piece of glass. Mr.

I thought about the three years I had spent making Julian's coffee, editing hi

lk handkerchief Cyrus had given me at the club. It was

didn't grab my clothes. I didn't grab my photos. I left the girl who lov

"A wise choice, Miss Thorne. Le

't look back. The fire had started, and I intended to let i