Chapter 4 Trust Is A Luxury

Sloane sat at the edge of the bed in the penthouse suite Grayson insisted she use during the first month of their arrangement.

Her phone sat on the nightstand, screen dimmed, but the message burned in her thoughts.

> The last Mrs. Astor disappeared without a trace. Maybe ask yourself why.

She didn't sleep.

She couldn't.

Instead, she replayed every moment from the day before Grayson's silence at the study window, the photograph of his father, the way Eleanor Astor smiled without warmth. The Astors lived in a world built on pristine surfaces and deep shadows.

And now she was part of it.

Even if it was just pretend by the time the sun rose over Manhattan, Sloane had made a decision.

She needed answers.

If she was going to survive a year in this arrangement, if she was going to protect herself and Liam then she needed to know what she was walking into.

She dialed Mallory's line at 6:47 a.m.

"You're up early," came Mallory's polished voice.

"I need a file," Sloane said. "On Alyssa Monroe."

There was a beat of silence.

"Does Grayson know you're asking?"

"No."

"Then I didn't hear this request," Mallory replied. "And you didn't make it."

Sloane leaned against the kitchen counter. "Is it true? That she vanished?"

"She left without notice five years ago. No public goodbye. No contact. She was engaged to Grayson weeks from the wedding."

"And then?"

"Gone. No interviews. No trace. The press spun stories. But Grayson? He never spoke about it. Not once."

"And you never thought that was strange?"

Mallory paused. "I've worked for the Astors long enough to know that what's not said often matters more than what is."

Later that morning, Sloane stood in the Astor Enterprises boardroom during a weekly planning meeting.

She was used to playing the composed assistant polished, efficient, invisible. But now, with a wedding band on her finger and a new last name whispered in every corner, she was no longer background noise.

She was the story.

Grayson entered, nodding briefly to the executives before his eyes found hers.

His gaze lingered. Concerned. Curious.

She didn't look away.

They hadn't spoken since the brunch. Since she'd texted him in the middle of the night.

And now wasn't the time.

The board meeting ran long. Discussions of tech expansion and mergers blurred into one another. Sloane took notes, but her mind was elsewhere.

Specifically, on the woman Grayson had once been engaged to.

The one no one dared to mention.

After the meeting, she followed Grayson back to his office.

He closed the door behind them.

"You didn't sleep last night," he said.

Sloane turned to face him. "You checked the cameras?"

"I checked on you." He walked over to the sideboard, poured her a glass of water, and handed it to her. "You looked like you saw a ghost."

She accepted the drink, fingers brushing his. "Maybe I did."

"What's going on?"

She set the glass down carefully. "I got a message."

He stiffened. "What kind of message?"

She pulled out her phone and handed it to him.

He read it once.

Then again.

His face didn't change but the tension in his shoulders gave him away.

"This isn't a joke, is it?" she asked.

"No," he said quietly. "It's not."

She waited.

But he didn't offer anything more.

"No denial? No outrage? Just silence?"

"Sloane"

"Is it true?" she demanded. "Did Alyssa really vanish? Did she run from you?"

His jaw clenched. "She left, yes. But not because of me."

"Then why?"

He turned away. "There are things I can't explain yet."

"That's not good enough," Sloane snapped. "You've asked me to risk everything for this arrangement my privacy, my name, my brother's safety. I've tied myself to you publicly, legally, and emotionally, and you're still playing the mysterious CEO card like this is some kind of chess match."

Grayson turned slowly. "You think I'm protecting myself?"

"I think you're protecting something. Or someone".

He stepped closer. "I'm protecting you."

The air shifted.

Sloane stared at him, heart pounding.

"I don't need your protection," she said softly.

"I know you don't," he said. "But that doesn't mean I can stop myself."

His eyes searched hers, and for a moment just one he let something vulnerable show.

Then it was gone.

Walled behind marble and money again.

Grayson handed her back the phone. "Don't answer any unknown messages. Forward them to Mallory. And if you see anything suspicious, you come to me. Immediately."

Sloane hesitated. "This isn't just about the merger, is it?"

"No," he said. "It hasn't been, for a long time."

That afternoon, Mallory handed her a sealed envelope as she left the office.

"This wasn't easy to pull," she said. "And it doesn't leave your apartment."

Inside was a file marked Monroe, Alyssa – CONFIDENTIAL.

Sloane didn't open it until she was safely home, with Liam out at a late tutoring session.

The file was thin.

One page.

A few photos.

Basic details -DOB, former address, employment history.

But what chilled her was the last item listed.

Missing Persons Report – Filed March 3rd – Withdrawn by family within 24 hours.

No reason given.

No investigation followed.

It was as if Alyssa had never existed

Sloane leaned back against the couch, the file in her lap, heart racing.

What had Alyssa been running from?

Or worse who?

The doorbell rang.

She jumped, heart in her throat.

She wasn't expecting anyone.

She crossed the apartment and checked the peephole.

No one.

Just an envelope on the floor.

She opened the door cautiously and picked it up.

Inside was a photo.

A blurry image of Grayson and a man she didn't recognize older, graying, with a cruel smile.

The photo was dated last year

Scrawled on the back in thick black ink:

> Don't trust him. Not with your heart. Not with your life.

Somewhere across the city, in a dim café under an assumed name, Alyssa stirred her coffee.

She watched the photo of Sloane and Grayson from the tabloids.

Her hand shook.

"Too late," she whispered. "She's already in