he cold night air doing nothing to cool the fury and-though he would never admit it-the sliver of panic twisting in his gut.

. "Call me. Now." No response. He sent another. "This is absurd. We need to talk." The message delivered, but rema

voice, when she answered, was a sof

Is everyt

ning-the ring, his grandfather's r

st trying to punish you. It's a tactic. She wants you to chase her, to prove how

rance. Of course. Brianna understood. This was just Chloe's most dramatic gambit yet. He felt th

an exorcism of her own. She moved through the rooms with calm, methodical preci

nel bags, Hermès scarves, all of it pulled from her closets and drawers, piled into small mountains of expens

ne. Page after page, a stranger stared back at her. A young woman with a bright, desperate smi

years she had wasted, for the dignity she had sac

n a yacht in St. Barts. The two of them at a charity gala, her hand possessively on his arm. A candid

paper curled, blackened, and turned to ash, the i

se of relief washed over her. It was the feeling

ctations, of her own d

g windows and looked out over the

ghter tonight, full of pro

at hadn't happened yet - market trends, tech startups, political shifts. She would

the soft click of the neighboring penthouse d

ith a quiet intensity, his dark eyes seeming to miss nothing.

almost imperceptible nod. His gaze was deep and unreadable. Chl

ow, resonant baritone that seeme

weight is to

at him in surprise, but he had already turned away, heading for the elevators,

gs to focus on. Closing the door, she sat down at her desk and opened her laptop. The g

litany of demands, threats, and empty promises, each one a testament to his growing frustration.

o something far darker, a pathological need