Chapter 3 3

The interior of the Rolls-Royce smelled of expensive leather and cold ambition. The city noise vanished the moment the heavy door clicked shut. It was a hermetically sealed world of power.

Aurora didn't drip on the pristine white rug. She sat perfectly still on the edge of the plush leather seat, the flash drive held between her thumb and forefinger. She refused to shiver, though the icy dampness of her dress clung to her skin.

Corbin Heath sat opposite her, a tablet glowing in his lap. He hadn't offered her a blanket or a kind word. He was simply waiting, his silence a form of pressure.

He was tall, broad-shouldered, wearing a bespoke suit that probably cost more than her car. His face was sharp angles and cold indifference. This was the man from Davos. The man whose touch she remembered with a terrifying clarity.

"I know about the subsidiary shell corporations registered in the Cayman Islands," Aurora began, her voice steady despite the adrenaline coursing through her. "The ones you use to undervalue Heath Global's European real estate assets. It's a brilliant scheme. Shaves about twelve percent off your corporate tax liability. The IRS would have a field day with it. So would your board of directors, especially the faction that wants you out."

Corbin didn't react. He simply tilted his head, his steel-grey eyes narrowing slightly. He was appraising her, not as a woman, but as a threat.

"This flash drive," she continued, holding it up, "contains the transaction records, the falsified appraisal documents, and the communication logs between your CFO and the offshore law firm. It's my father's life's work. He was your family's fixer for twenty years. He built this cage for you, and now I have the key."

He finally spoke, his voice devoid of warmth. "Your father is a criminal who is about to be indicted for fraud. His data is inadmissible, his credibility nonexistent."

"My father's credibility doesn't matter," Aurora countered, leaning forward slightly. "The data speaks for itself. And I'm not a criminal. I'm a concerned citizen who has stumbled upon a massive corporate conspiracy. I am also, as of an hour ago, publicly destitute and desperate. A jury would love me."

A flicker of something-not admiration, but professional respect-passed through his eyes. He took a sip of scotch from a crystal tumbler that seemed to appear from a hidden compartment.

"What do you want?" he asked. It was the question she had been waiting for.

"First, you will get my father out on bail and assign him a legal team that can actually win. Second, you will provide me with sanctuary. A place to live where the Hansens and the Sterlings can't touch me. Third, you will unfreeze my assets."

Corbin almost smiled. "An ambitious list for a woman sitting in a puddle on a sidewalk."

"I wasn't in a puddle," Aurora said coldly. "I was waiting for you."

He set his drink down. The silence stretched, thick with unspoken calculations. He was weighing the cost of her silence against the cost of her demands.

"There's a complication," he said, his gaze dropping pointedly to her abdomen. "I saw the news feed from the gala. You're pregnant."

The room spun. She hadn't expected him to bring it up so directly. "That has nothing to do with this."

"It has everything to do with this," he said, his voice dropping lower. "The timeline. Davos. A blizzard that closed all the roads." He looked directly into her eyes. "Is it mine?"

The directness of the question stole her breath. This wasn't a negotiation anymore. It was an acquisition.

"My terms are non-negotiable," she deflected, her heart hammering against her ribs.

Corbin picked up his phone. He didn't dial. He spoke to an AI. "Marcus. Find Harper. Tell her she has a new roommate at the penthouse. Indefinitely." He paused, his eyes still locked on Aurora. "And assemble the legal team. The best. I want Leonard Paul out by morning."

He disconnected. He looked at her, a predator who had just claimed his territory.

"You get your sanctuary, Ms. Paul," he said softly. "But you've misunderstood the nature of our transaction. You are not my guest. You are now an asset. And I protect my assets."

The car began to move, gliding silently into the rain-slicked Manhattan night, carrying her away from one prison and straight into another.