LOGINThe striking, facial structure. Sydney is an absolute, undeniable replica of the woman in the vintage photograph—Tobias’s mother. The almost psychotic protectiveness Tobias has shown toward Sydney from the very first moment he met her. The massive financial safety nets he threw under her, the fact
Before I can even open my mouth to apologize for breaking into his house, Tobias speaks. His voice is incredibly quiet, completely devoid of its usual sharp authority, yet it carries a heavy, haunting weight that pins me right to the carpet. "For years..." he murmurs, his finger continuing its slow
I stand frozen on the gravel path, the engine of Sydney’s departing car roaring in my ears. I watch the taillights of her vehicle bounce over the cemetery threshold, disappearing completely from sight, and with every inch of distance she puts between us, my heart shatters into a million jagged, irre
My throat locks up. I’ve seen Owen angry, I’ve seen him arrogant, and I’ve seen him lethal in a courtroom. But I have never seen him cry like this. "I am so sorry for leaving you in that jail cell, Sydney," he whispers again, his voice cracking completely now as he stares down at my lips. "I know n
The second Owen’s fingers touch the chrome handle of his sleek black sedan, I violently twist out of his reach. I yank myself away from his side, clutching the lapels of his oversized designer suit jacket against my chest like a shield. He freezes, his hand dropping from the door as he whips his he
My stomach completely drops. The press. The paparazzi who were banned from the main service have already spotted the commotion from the outer gates. Long, heavy camera lenses are already poking through the iron bars, the rapid, machine-gun clicking of shutters filling the air as they capture every
The shock wares off, and instead, I feel a bubble of hysterical laughter rise in my throat. I look up at Deckard, my head tilted, and I let the laugh out. Then, the rage hits. The fucking audacity of this man to ruin my night and spread disgusting lies! Before he can tighten his hold on me again,
Reporters are screaming my name, their voices overlapping into a dissonant roar as Owen and I step out of the court house. "Sydney, are you happy with the ruling?" "Is it true Deckard is filing an appeal?" "Give us a quote for the front page!" I’m trying to maintain my composure, head held high,
As soon as the door of Owen’s sleek black sedan swings open, the world turns into a strobe light of white heat and clicking shutters. We’ve just pulled up to the curb of the Grand Imperial Hotel for the annual Silver Rose Charity Gala, and it seems the press has forgotten there are other philanthrop
I’m nearly at the front door, thinking about the deposition for the weekend’s upcoming corporate merger case, when I’m run into by a little woman with a bouquet of flowers that block out her view. The impact is soft, a rustle of silk petals and greenery, but the scent is what hits me first. It’s th







