CELESTE POV
I woke up to the sound of Dante making a deal with the devil.
His voice carried through the bedroom door—low, angry, frantic. "I don't care what it costs. Get me the drugs. Now."
Someone answered, but I couldn't hear the words. Only Dante's response: "Then we have a deal. The flash drive for her life."
My eyes snapped open. Pain burst through my shoulder, but I forced myself to stay quiet. To listen.
He was trading the proof. The only proof of who killed my father. The only tool I had.
For me.
Idiot. Beautiful, stupid idiot.
I waited until I heard him leave the bedroom, then dragged myself out of bed. My shoulder screamed. My vision went blurry. I didn't care. I had maybe thirty minutes before whatever deal he'd made went through.
Thirty minutes to find that flash drive and escape before Dante realized he'd saved the wrong person.
The penthouse was huge. Seventy floors up, windows showing all of New York like Dante owned the whole city. Maybe he did. Maybe my father had owned it once too, before someone took it away.
I moved through the hallway like Ghost had taught me in my past life—silent, careful, touching nothing that might leave evidence. My bare feet made no sound on the cold marble.
First door: library. Thousands of books Dante probably never read. Just another thing to own.
Second door: office. Locked. Interesting.
Third door— "You should be in bed."
I spun around, biting back a gasp of pain. A young woman stood behind me, arms crossed, eyes sharp as knives. She had Dante's dark hair but lighter features. Pretty, if pretty could look at you like she was choosing where to bury your body.
"You must be Isabella," I said, keeping my voice steady. "Dante's sister."
"And you must be the girl my brother paid five million dollars for." She stepped closer. "Funny. You don't look worth that much."
"Neither do you, but here we are."
Isabella's eyebrows shot up. Then she laughed—surprised, genuine. "Oh, I like you. That's unfortunate."
"Why unfortunate?"
"Because you won't last. They never do." She walked past me, running her finger along the wall like she was checking for dust. "My brother collects beautiful things. Women, mostly. He keeps them for a month, maybe two, then gets bored and throws them away. You're just the newest toy."
"Thanks for the warning." I turned back to the locked office door. "Does he keep all his toys locked up, or just the important ones?"
"That's his private room. No one goes in there. Not even me." Isabella studied me with those knife-sharp eyes. "Why? Planning to steal something?"
"Planning to survive."
"Smart girl." She moved closer, voice dropping. "But living here means knowing when to stop asking questions. My brother's not a good man, but he's dangerous when people fail him. And you—" She touched my injured shoulder, making me flinch. "You're already disappointing him."
"How?"
"By being interesting." Isabella smiled, sad and knowing. "He doesn't want interesting. He wants simple. Beautiful and broken and thankful. But you're none of those things, are you?"
Before I could answer, footsteps echoed down the hall. Isabella's face went blank, professional. "Get back to bed. Now. Before Ghost sees you wandering."
"Who's Ghost?"
"Too late. He already knows."
A man appeared at the end of the hallway. White-blond hair, black eyes, face like a statue that had learned to hate. He looked at me the way scientists look at bugs.
"Miss Armitage," he said, voice flat. "You're supposed to be resting."
"I got bored."
"Boredom is dangerous in this house." He walked toward me, each step measured and frightening. "Dante's making plans for your care. Medical tools. Antibiotics. Things that cost him more than money. You should be grateful."
"I should be a lot of things."
Ghost stopped inches away. I could smell gun oil and something metallic. Blood, probably. "You're not afraid of me."
"Should I be?"
"Everyone else is."
"Then everyone else is smarter than me." I met his eyes, unwilling to look away first. "What's on the flash drive?"
His face didn't change, but something flickered behind those dead eyes. Surprise, maybe. Or respect. "That's not your concern."
"Everything about my mother is my concern."
"The woman who claimed to be your mother is dead. The flash drive is Dante's property. And you—" He leaned closer. "You're Dante's property too. Remember that before you start asking things that'll get you killed."
"Is that a threat?"
"It's a fact." Ghost turned to Isabella. "Your brother wants you downstairs. Business meeting."
Isabella squeezed my hand once—a warning or a promise, I couldn't tell—then left.
Ghost and I stared at each other in the empty hallway.
"You're investigating me," I said. Not a question.
"I examine everyone who gets close to Dante. It's my job to protect him from dangers." His black eyes bored into mine. "And you, Celeste Armitage, are the biggest threat he's faced in years."
"Because of who I am? Or because of what I want?"
"Both." He pulled out his phone, showing me a picture. My father's company. My old life. Everything I'd lost. "I know who you were. Pharmaceutical heiress. Rich girl playing at work. Then your world fell apart and suddenly you're at an auction, being sold like furniture."
"Your point?"
"My point is that people don't fall that far that fast without help. Someone destroyed you on purpose. And I want to know why Dante was so eager to buy the one woman who should want him dead."
My heart stopped. He knew. Not everything, maybe, but enough.
"I don't know what you're talking about," I lied.
"Yes, you do." Ghost pocketed his phone. "But here's the interesting part: I can't figure out if you're a victim or a player. If you're here for revenge or life. And until I know which—" He grabbed my injured shoulder, making white-hot pain shoot through my body. "I'm going to be watching every move you make."
He released me and walked away, leaving me breathing against the wall.
Okay. New idea. Ghost was too smart, too careful. I needed to move faster.
I waited until the hallway was empty, then picked the lock on Dante's office. Easy. Dad had taught me when I was twelve, back when I thought learning to break into places was a fun father-daughter activity.
Inside, the office was exactly what I expected. Desk. Computer. Files. And— A wall safe. Hidden behind a picture of a woman who looked like Dante's mother.
I had started working on the combination when I heard people outside the door.
"—don't trust her, Boss. Something's wrong."
"Everything's wrong, Ghost. That doesn't mean I'm throwing her to the dogs."
Dante. Coming here. Now.
I closed the safe, repositioned the picture, and dove behind the desk just as the door opened.
"The antibiotics will be here in an hour," Dante said. "Victor's sending his personal doctor."
"And the flash drive?"
"Ready to hand over. I don't care what's on it anymore. I just want her alive."
My chest tightened. He meant it. He was actually willing to trade everything for me.
Why? He didn't know me. Didn't owe me anything. I was just another thing he'd bought.
Unless— "Boss, I need to tell you something about the girl. "
No. No no no.
"What about her?" Dante's voice went cold, dangerous.
Ghost paused. That pause felt like an eternity. "I found her real medical records. From before the sale. She's not just sick from the bullet wound."
My blood turned to ice.
"What do you mean?"
"I mean Celeste Armitage has maybe six months to live. She's been dying this whole time. And I think that's exactly why she let herself be sold."
The room went quiet.
I pressed my hand over my mouth, trying not to breathe, not to scream, not to exist.
Because Ghost was right.
I had six months left. Maybe less.
And I'd planned to spend every second of it destroying the man who was trying to save my life.