LOGINJane’s POV The freezing Manhattan rain hit my face like shattered glass the moment I burst through the building’s side exit door. I stumbled into the dark alleyway, my wet sneakers skidding against the slick pavement as the door slammed shut behind me, cutting off the golden glare of the penthouse grid. I didn't stop running. I flew down the concrete corridor, the freezing downpour instantly soaking through my oversized sweater, plastering the wet wool against my ribs. The words parasite and cheap slut were screaming through my skull, repeating in Benjamin's cold tone until my ears throbbed with a physical ache. My chest heaved in ragged gasps. The independent runaway who had scrubbed grease traps in North Carolina to buy her freedom was gone. The girl who thought she could survive in the dirt without his ledger was dead. I had let my guard down, and my pride had been slaughtered in front of the woman he called his rightful owner. The embarrassment was evident, I wished I neve
Jane’s POV The off-grid service elevator groaned as it rose through the core of the Vance Group tower, the mechanical hum vibrating straight through the rubber soles of my sneakers. Manhattan outside the glass shaft was a vertical maze of freezing sleet and neon static, completely indifferent to the panic clawing at my throat. Leo stood beside me, his jaw locked, his right hand buried inside his jacket pocket where his fingers tightly gripped a heavy iron wrench he had pulled from the SUV’s glove compartment. He hadn't spoken since we breached the basement loading bay using Silas’s cash to slide past the night guard. Ding. The metal doors slid open, exposing the private penthouse vestibule. The air up here smelled of expensive citrus, polished marble, and power. It was dead quiet, save for the low, rhythmic patter of the rain hitting the massive glass dome overhead. The double glass doors leading into the main residential suite were partially unlatched, a narrow wedge of w
Jane’s POV Twenty_one days inside the Westchester mansion bled into one another like oil separating in cold water. Every morning, before the winter sun could clear the jagged pine trees on the northern perimeter, I woke up with my hand reaching across the silk mattress, searching for a chest that wasn't there. The faint scent of cedar and copper was slowly dissolving from the linen, replaced by a freezing, sterile draft that leaked through the panoramic glass panels. I spent my hours tracking the vacant corridors, my oversized sweater pulled tightly over my stomach, my fingers perpetually buried inside my pockets to clutch the cardboard edge of my composition notebook. I was fighting my own blood every single second. My mind was a chaotic loop of friction, constantly bouncing between the soft heat of his touch against my skin under the bathroom steam and the clinical cruelty of his voice calling me a cheap slut. He will come back, I whispered to the dark cedar walls of the rec
Victoria’s POV The backstage holding lounge of the Grand Plaza Hotel was a space of red velvet, polished brass, and the distant, thunderous rumble of the New York media press line gathering outside the double doors. I stood by the full-length mirror, smoothing the lapels of my tailored emerald dress, my eyes drilling into the reflection of the mahogany bar behind me. A heavy crystal tumbler filled with single-malt whiskey sat on the wood. The media schedule was locked, and the anchors were already broadcasting the live countdown to the global market. The Williams-Vance empire was about to be officially reunited in front of the world. The heavy oak doors clicked open, and Benjamin walked inside. He looked immaculate—and entirely unassailable. He was dressed in a dark executive suit that fit perfectly over his broad shoulders, his white silk collar contrasting sharply against his sharp, bloodless jawline. He had shaved his rough beard, leaving his expression cold. He didn't look
BENJAMIN’S POV The digital chime of a priority network alert cut through the dark bedroom at 4:30 AM, slicing through the silence. I didn't move immediately. Jane was still sleeping against my bare chest, her forehead pressed into the hollow of my shoulder. My right arm was locked like an iron brace around her shoulder, pins and needles numbing my fingertips from holding her weight through the night. Every cell in my body fought to ignore the noise, but the terminal console downstairs in the main corridor was humming on an encrypted emergency routing lane that only three people on earth could access. Slowly, with cautious precision, I slid my arm out from beneath her neck, replacing the heat of my chest with a pillow. She let out a soft, unconscious whimper in her sleep, her fingers curling over the empty silk sheet, but she didn't wake. A sharp spasm of agony flared behind my eyelids as I swung my legs over the edge of the mattress. My left hand clamped over my lower ribs
Jane’s POV The master bathroom was warm, filled with a gentle mist as the steaming water from the porcelain tub cast a soft glow against the marble vanity. Benjamin sat on the edge of the deep porcelain basin, his massive frame hunched over as he stared blankly at the floor tiles. He had managed to stand up from the bed, but the effort had drained the remaining adrenaline from his body. His bare chest was heaving in short, shallow movements, his right hand still firmly bracing his swollen left ribs. He looked completely weaponless, stripped of the unassailable billionaire mask that used to keep the world at a distance. "Let me help you," I whispered into the quiet room. He didn't argue. not like he has the energy to argue anyway. He didn't have the breath to push me away. I stepped into his perimeter, my hands trembling slightly as I took a thick, warm towel from the heated rack and dipped a linen sponge into the water. Moving with slow caution, I sat beside him on the marble
Benjamin's POV The freezing draft rolling off the East River didn't wake me; it was the sudden, unnatural silence of the warehouse that snapped my conscious mind out of the dark, pain-addled abyss. I bolted upright in the wooden chair, a choked, guttural gasp tearing from my throat as my shatte
(Jane’s POV) I walked back into the living room, completely ignoring the way Victoria raised a perfectly manicured eyebrow at me from the couch. She was sipping a glass of water, looking like the undisputed queen of the manor. "Have a lovely dinner, Victoria," I said. My voice was sweet, full
PROLOGUE ~Jane’s POV~ The bedroom air was thick with the smell of rain, expensive cedarwood, and the heavy aftermath of what we had just done. My fingers shook as I touched the sharp line of his jaw. He was sleeping, or doing a very good job pretending. His breathing was slow and steady against
~Jane’s POV~ Even after he cleared his throat and went into his study, my heart was still running a marathon in my chest. Did I imagine it? Was it just the lighting in the room? Or was it real? I shook my head hard, trying to clear the fog. No. Relax, Jane. He was Leo’s best friend. He was







