Chapter 4

The cold air of the concrete hallway hit Vivian's face as she pushed through the gym exit doors.

Heavy, frantic footsteps echoed behind her.

"Vance!" Julian roared.

Vivian didn't stop walking.

Julian lunged. He reached out to grab her shoulder, desperate to claw back his shattered pride.

Vivian felt the shift in the air current behind her. She dropped her weight. She pivoted on her left foot and drove her right elbow backward in a vicious, upward arc.

The point of her elbow connected perfectly with the soft tissue just below Julian's ribcage.

Julian's breath left his lungs in a violent rush. He doubled over, clutching his stomach. He gasped for air, his face pale.

Vivian straightened her collar. She looked down at him with cold pity.

"You throw a tantrum like a toddler," Vivian said.

Students poured out of the gym. They formed a wide circle, holding up their phones. The camera lenses focused on the heir of the Hayes family gasping on the floor.

Julian forced himself to stand. His face was twisted in ugly rage.

"You're dead!" Julian spat, clutching his ribs. "Your father's company is bleeding cash. By Friday, the Vance family will be bankrupt. I'll make sure no one on the Upper East Side throws you a single dime. You'll be sleeping on the subway!"

Vivian let out a sharp, piercing laugh. The sound bounced off the concrete walls.

She took a step toward him. Julian instinctively flinched backward.

"I don't need your pocket change, Julian," Vivian said. Her voice was deadly calm. "I am going to be Ethan Thorne's wife."

The hallway went completely still. The sound of recording phones seemed to pause.

Ethan Thorne. The apex predator of Wall Street. A man whose name was spoken in terrified whispers by the parents of everyone in this hallway.

Julian stared at her. Then, he burst into a forced, hysterical laugh.

"You're insane," Julian mocked. "You really did get brain damage. Ethan Thorne wouldn't let a piece of trash like you clean his shoes."

The crowd murmured in agreement. It was an impossible claim.

Vivian didn't argue. She reached into the pocket of her skirt.

She pulled out a thick, black envelope edged in gold foil. She held it up between her index and middle finger.

The heavy wax seal on the back caught the fluorescent light. It was the intricate, unmistakable crest of the Thorne family.

Julian's laughter died in his throat. The blood drained from his face. He recognized that seal. His father had a lesser version of it framed in his office.

Vivian stepped forward and slapped the heavy invitation against Julian's chest. He reflexively caught it.

"The Plaza Hotel. Tonight," Vivian said. "Tell your father to bring a very generous check."

She turned and walked down the hallway. The crowd parted for her in absolute, terrified silence.

Miles away, in the penthouse office of the Thorne Group.

Ethan stared at the glowing stock tickers on his massive monitors.

The heavy mahogany doors opened. J.D. Rivers, his chief intelligence officer, walked in. J.D.'s face was grim. He placed a red classified folder on Ethan's desk.

"We dug into Eleanor Vance's medical records from the car crash," J.D. said.

Ethan opened the folder.

Page after page was blacked out. Thick, heavy redaction ink covered the text. The only visible text was a string of alphanumeric codes.

"We hit a wall," J.D. explained. "It's a military-grade firewall. Department of Defense level encryption. Whoever scrubbed her files has serious power."

Ethan's jaw tightened. He stared at the black ink.

"She's not just a traumatized heiress," J.D. warned. "She's a liability. We don't know who she works for. I strongly advise terminating the engagement contract immediately."

Ethan closed the folder. He remembered the cold, dead look in Vivian's eyes when she pressed the knife to his aorta. He remembered the steady, slow rhythm of her pulse under his hand.

A dark heat flared in Ethan's chest. The thrill of the hunt.

"No," Ethan said. His voice was a low growl.

J.D. blinked in surprise. "Sir?"

"Take over the security for the engagement party tonight," Ethan ordered. He stood up and buttoned his suit jacket. "Deploy the Blackwater team. I want eyes on her at all times."

Ethan looked out the window at the city below.

"I'm going to keep this little monster right next to me," Ethan murmured. "I want to see whose throat she rips out first."

J.D. swallowed hard. He nodded and quickly left the office.