Chapter 1

"Blow them out, Grandma."

Cassie clapped her small hands together, her bright voice echoing off the mahogany walls of the private dining room in the Ritz-Carlton.

Daryl Bush smiled, holding the long lighter away from the cake. He looked at his mother. Marlene sat in her wheelchair, her hands rough and calloused from decades of hard labor, resting on her lap. She stared at the flickering candles on her sixtieth birthday cake, but her eyes kept darting toward the heavy double doors.

"Make a wish, Mom," Daryl said softly.

He reached out and covered her rough hand with his own. He knew what she was looking for. He squeezed her fingers, his voice steady.

"Blaire said she would come after finishing her board meeting. She is on her way."

Cassie tugged at the hem of Daryl's cheap, off-the-rack suit jacket. Her lower lip trembled.

"Did Mommy forget Grandma's birthday?"

Daryl crouched down. He pushed the dark thoughts to the back of his mind and forced a warm smile, ruffling his daughter's soft hair.

"Mommy is very busy, but she promised she would try. We just have to wait a little longer."

A sudden flurry of rushed, arrogant footsteps echoed from the hallway outside, accompanied by the hotel manager's overly eager, fawning voice.

The heavy mahogany doors were pulled open from the outside by two waiters who bowed their heads.

Blaire Doyle stepped into the room. She wore a razor-sharp Chanel haute couture suit. Her face was a mask of frost, her posture rigid and perfect.

Daryl stood up. The breath of relief he was about to exhale died in his throat. His muscles locked.

Right behind Blaire walked a man in a bespoke Savile Row suit. Estevan Montgomery. His mixed-heritage features were striking, his chin tilted up in a display of pure arrogance.

Estevan placed his hand on the small of Blaire's back. It was a light touch, but it screamed of territorial claim.

The smile on Marlene's face vanished. Her fingers gripped the armrests of her wheelchair so hard her knuckles turned white.

"Mommy!" Cassie cheered, running toward Blaire.

Blaire looked down. Her eyes were so cold and empty that Cassie stopped dead in her tracks, shrinking back.

Daryl closed the distance in three long strides. He positioned his body firmly between his daughter and his wife. He kept his voice low, his chest tight.

"Why is he here?"

Blaire did not look at Daryl. She stepped around him, walking straight to the dining table. She stared down at the simple fresh cream cake with utter disdain.

She opened her Hermes Birkin bag, pulled out a thick stack of documents, and dropped them onto the porcelain plate next to the cake. The heavy thud rattled the silverware.

The bold black letters on the cover burned into Daryl's retinas. Marriage Dissolution and Asset Division Agreement.

Marlene let out a choked gasp. She pressed her hand hard against her chest, her breathing turning shallow.

Daryl snapped his head toward Blaire. The blood rushed to his ears, a deafening roar. His eyes were bloodshot, his jaw clamped so tight his teeth ground together.

"This marriage is a negative asset," Blaire said. Her voice sounded like she was reading a quarterly earnings report. "It is a liability to my entry into high society. We are done."

Estevan let out a dry, mocking chuckle. He lifted his wrist, casually twisting the sapphire cufflink on his sleeve.

"The Doyle family is merging with the Montgomery financial group," Estevan said, his tone dripping with fake pity. "Bottom-feeders like you need to be cleaned out, Daryl. You are a stain."

Daryl's hands dropped to his sides. His fingers curled inward, digging into his palms. The Draconic blood deep within his veins began to boil, sending waves of scorching heat against his skin. His chest expanded as he fought for air.

Cassie burst into tears. The heavy, suffocating tension in the room terrified her. She wrapped her small arms around Daryl's leg and buried her face in his trousers.

Daryl took a ragged breath. He forced the burning heat back down into his core. He could not lose control here. Not in front of his daughter. Not in front of his mother.

He looked at Blaire. The warmth that had lived in his eyes for five years was gone, replaced by a dead, hollow chill.

"Did you have to do this today?" Daryl asked, his voice scraping like sandpaper. "Right now?"

"It is a timely commercial stop-loss," Blaire said, adjusting the cuffs of her Chanel jacket. "Sign it now."

Daryl closed his eyes. The image of the woman he loved shattered into a million pieces. He opened his eyes.

"I will sign," Daryl said. "On one condition."

He took a step forward, his shadow falling over the documents.

"I get absolute custody of Cassie. The Doyle family will never touch her."