Chapter 1 1

The tip of Dosha Young's finger did not tremble as it hovered over the iPad screen. It was a steady, practiced movement, the kind she used to employ when memorizing a script, but tonight, there were no lines to learn. There was only the jagged red line of a candlestick chart.

Stuart Holdings. Ticker symbol: STU.

The stock was down 5.4 percent in after-hours trading.

A notification banner slid down from the top of the screen, obscuring the financial data. It was a push alert from Page Six. The headline was bold and unapologetic: Heir Apparent Casper Stuart Spotted at Soho House with Victoria's Secret Angel Sienna. Is the Honeymoon Over?

Dosha stared at the pixelated image. It was grainy, taken in low light, but the posture was unmistakable. Casper had his hand on the small of the woman's back. It was a possessive grip. She knew that grip. It was the same way he held a fountain pen before signing a merger acquisition.

She didn't feel a pang in her chest. She didn't feel the sting of tears. She felt the cold calculation of a risk manager. This was precisely the kind of emotional volatility her predecessor, the late Elara Vance, had embodied-the kind that had nearly cost the Stuarts their empire. Dosha was hired to be the opposite of Elara. She was the cure.

She took a screenshot.

She opened a secure folder labeled Risk Assessment and dropped the image inside. It landed next to sixteen other files.

Her phone buzzed against the mahogany surface of the desk. The caller ID flashed Harper.

Dosha tapped the speaker icon and set the phone down, her eyes never leaving the stock chart.

"He is a walking phallus," Harper's voice crackled through the speaker, breathless and loud. "I saw the photos, Dosha. I am literally shaking. How does he have the audacity? It is your second anniversary."

Dosha opened an Excel spreadsheet. Under the column marked PR Crisis, she typed: Sienna: Incident No. 17.

"He doesn't have audacity, Harper. He has leverage," Dosha said. Her voice was flat, stripped of the cadence she used to use on stage. "And a very good legal team."

"You are human, Dosha! You are allowed to be angry. You are allowed to throw a vase against the wall."

"Vases cost money. Anger costs energy." Dosha highlighted the cell in red. "As long as he doesn't get Sienna pregnant, my quarterly distribution from the grandfather's trust fund remains secure. A pregnancy would trigger the Morality Clause in the trust. That affects my bottom line."

There was a silence on the other end of the line. It lasted two full seconds.

"God," Harper whispered. "You sound like a calculator. When did you become a calculator?"

"When I realized tears don't pay off bankruptcy creditors."

Dosha hung up.

She stood and walked to the floor-to-ceiling window. The glass was cold against her forehead. Below, Central Park was a black void in the center of the glowing city. It was 7:55 PM.

The Anniversary Review Dinner was scheduled for 8:00 PM.

She turned and walked into the dining room. The long table was set for two. There were no candles. There were no flowers. Instead, a bound document sat on her placemat: Annual Performance & Compliance Report.

The elevator chimed in the foyer.

Dosha smoothed the silk of her lounge wear. She adjusted her expression, pulling up the corners of her mouth into a pleasant, neutral curve. It was the face of a supportive wife. It was the face of a woman who didn't ask questions.

But it wasn't Casper who walked in.

It was Liam. Casper's personal assistant looked like he had run up the forty flights of stairs. His tie was crooked. He stood on the marble of the foyer, hesitating before stepping onto the plush rug, as if his shoes might contaminate the silence.

He was holding a bag with the Cartier logo embossed in gold.

"Mrs. Stuart," Liam said. He wouldn't meet her eyes. He looked at a point somewhere over her left shoulder. "Mr. Stuart... Casper... he has been detained. An urgent international conference call came in. The Tokyo markets."

Dosha watched Liam's throat bob as he swallowed. It was a tell. The micro-expression of a man paid to lie but not paid enough to enjoy it.

"Tokyo," Dosha repeated. She kept the smile fixed. "Is the conference taking place at Soho House? Is Sienna facilitating the merger?"

Liam flinched. Sweat beaded on his upper lip. He extended his arm, thrusting the red bag toward her like a shield.

"This is for you. From Mr. Stuart. For the occasion."

Dosha didn't move to take it. She looked at the bag, then at the cold plates of food on the table.

"Put it on the table," she said. "And take the document next to the plate. I need his signature on page four. My KPIs for the year have been met. Remind him to authorize the wire transfer."

Liam looked relieved to have a task. He set the bag down and snatched up the report. He turned to flee.

"Liam."

He froze, his hand on the elevator button.

Dosha gestured to the table. "If you haven't eaten, take the food. It's Michelin three-star catering. It would be a waste to throw it out."

Liam looked at her, really looked at her, for the first time. He looked horrified. He muttered a thank you and the elevator doors slid shut, sealing him out.

The smile dropped from Dosha's face instantly. It was like a power outage.

She walked to the table and opened the red box. A diamond bracelet glittered under the recessed lighting. It was delicate, expensive, and completely impersonal. It was the kind of jewelry a man bought when he told his assistant to "get something for a woman."

She walked to the sideboard and opened a drawer. It was filled with velvet boxes. Necklaces, earrings, brooches. None of them had ever been worn. She tossed the bracelet inside and shut the drawer with a soft click.

She picked up her iPad. She opened a message thread with her agent.

Get me that voiceover work for the animated feature. The NDA is ironclad. I need the cash.

Her phone buzzed. A text from Casper.

Read.

Two words. No apology. No explanation. Just an acknowledgment that he had received the digital copy of the report she had emailed him earlier.

Dosha stared at the screen until the backlight dimmed. She typed back.

Received. Pleasure doing business with you.