WARNING!!! , SOME CHAPTERS IN THIS NOVEL CONTAINS EXPLICIT SCENES 

"Sign it, Aria. Don’t make this more pathetic than it already is."

The smell of his expensive cologne mixed sickeningly with the scent of her stepsister’s perfume on the damp hotel sheets. Julian didn’t look like the man who had whispered promises of forever an hour ago; he looked like a predator closing a trap. Beside him, Elena smirked, pulling the silk duvet higher over her shoulder—a silent, triumphant taunt.

"You were having sex with her," Aria whispered, her voice cracking as the roar of the fashion show’s bass thumped through the walls of the dressing suite. "On my runway night. In our bed."

"Technically, it’s my bed now," Elena chirped, her eyes gleaming with malice. "Just like it’s my lead spot in the show. You’re trending, sister. But not for the fashion."

Julian shoved the fountain pen into Aria’s trembling hand. "The scandal hits the press in ten minutes. Your career is dead, your reputation is ashes, and this divorce is your only way out before the sponsors sue you for every cent you own. Sign the papers, take your shame, and disappear."

With a numb heart and a hand that felt like ice, Aria scribbled her name, severing her life.

An hour later, rain lashed against the neon lights of the city as she stumbled into a darkened bar, a ghost in a couture gown. She didn't want comfort; she wanted to feel something other than the knife in her back. When the man in the corner—shadowed, lethal, and radiating a terrifying power—offered her his hand and a night of forgetting, she took it.

She didn't know his name. She didn't know he was the most dangerous man in the financial world. She only knew that as she walked away from the wreckage of her life the next morning, she was carrying a secret that would one day bring the world to its knees.

The vote is scheduled for nine in the morning and by eight I have already read Marcus's brief twice and my own legal designation three times, because I am not walking into that boardroom again without knowing every line of the document that gives me the right to be there.


Ariana sits across from me at the safehouse table, dark circles under her eyes that have nothing to do with sleep and everything to do with a headline that is still trending all over the country. Neither of us has mentioned it directly since last night. I held her for a long time when she walked back in, her jaw tight, her hand still gripping her phone, and I told her the only thing I knew to be true in that moment, which is that the people who matter will know the difference between a photograph and a fact.


I am less certain the board will make that distinction. But I didn't say that part out loud.


"You should eat something," Ariana says now, nudging a plate toward me.


Chapter 74 - 074 THE HEIR