Chapter 1

The air in Napa Valley was thick with the scent of expensive wine and promises. Caleb held my hand, his thumb stroking my knuckles.

"One more month, Gabby. Just one more month, and you'll officially be the COO of Aura. My queen."

His voice was smooth, the same voice that had convinced venture capitalists to pour billions into the company I architected from our college dorm room. We were at a luxury retreat, a place so remote and exclusive that the silence felt heavy. This was supposed to be our celebration.

"Our kingdom, Caleb," I corrected him softly, leaning my head on his shoulder.

He stiffened for a fraction of a second, a micro-expression I had learned to read years ago. But then he relaxed, pulling me closer.

"Of course. Our kingdom."

Later that night, he poured me a glass of vintage Cabernet. He watched me drink it, his eyes filled with an intensity I mistook for love.

That was the last clear thing I remembered.

I woke up to pain. Not a dull ache, but a sharp, shattering agony that radiated from my hands. My head throbbed, and my body was a map of bruises. I was in a dirty, unfamiliar room, the smell of damp concrete filling my lungs.

Men' s voices, rough and low, came from the other side of a thin wall. They were laughing.

"Did you see her face? The Shark of Silicon Valley, crying like a baby."

"Caleb paid good money for this. Said to make it look random, but to make sure her hands were... unusable. No more coding for the little genius."

"He's a cold bastard. Setting up his own girl."

The words hit me harder than any physical blow. Caleb. It was all Caleb. The trip, the wine, the attack. It was a setup. My mind, the one he always praised as my greatest asset, started racing, connecting dots I hadn't wanted to see. His recent late nights, his strange calls, his sudden fascination with Molly Chadwick, the new intern.

The door creaked open, and a wave of fear washed over me. But it was Caleb. His face was a mask of frantic worry.

"Gabby! Oh my God, Gabby, I found you!"

He rushed to my side, his hands hovering over my broken body. He was a brilliant actor. His eyes were wide with fake terror, his voice choked with false relief.

He tried to gather me in his arms, to play the hero.

I flinched away from his touch, a wave of nausea rising in my throat.

He saw the look in my eyes. Not just pain. Not just fear. But knowledge.

His expression faltered for a second, the charming facade cracking to reveal the cold, manipulative monster underneath. He knew that I knew.

He "rescued" me. He carried me out, his performance for the resort staff flawless. He was the devastated lover, the frantic CEO saving his partner. But as he laid me in the back of the ambulance, he leaned in close, his breath warm against my ear.

"You should have just been happy with what you had," he whispered, so low that only I could hear. "Now, you have nothing."