Chapter 2

My phone buzzed on the coffee table almost instantly. A reply. From him.

Liam: "An unexpected and intriguing proposition. I'm listening."

My thumbs were a desperate blur on the screen, the words pouring out of me like a confession. I told him everything. Ethan's plan. The stolen blueprint. The life I was about to leave. My desire to partner with him, the only man in our world who had ever looked at me and seen my mind first.

I hit send, my heart pounding against my ribs.

Liam: "I remember you, Serafina. From the gala. Your analysis was flawless. I was so impressed, I had a candid photo taken of you that night. It's on a bookshelf in my office. Come to New York. Tomorrow. We'll talk."

A photo. He had a photo of me. A wave of validation so powerful it almost buckled my knees surged through me. He hadn't forgotten.

My resolve settled in my bones, cold and hard as steel. Minutes later, I'd booked a one-way flight to New York for the following evening.

Ethan didn't come home that night. When I called his assistant, Chloe, her voice was clipped. "He's in a late-night strategy session with Ms. Monroe, Fina. It's for the new project."

The lie was so blatant it was almost funny.

He finally walked through the door the next morning, smelling of Olivia's cloying perfume and his own smug satisfaction. He kissed my forehead, a gesture that now made my skin crawl.

"I have a massive surprise for you tonight, baby," he said, his eyes glittering. "Something that's going to change everything for us."

I just smiled, a placid, empty expression I had perfected over the years. "I can't wait."

That evening, he took me to a grand gala celebrating his Family's dominance. The air was thick with cigar smoke, expensive cologne, and the low murmur of dangerous men making deals. Ethan was in his element, preening.

Then, he grabbed my hand and pulled me toward the stage.

"What are you doing?" I hissed, trying to pull back.

"The surprise," he whispered, a triumphant grin spreading across his face.

He led me to the center of the stage, under the full glare of the spotlights. The room fell silent. He turned to me, his face a mask of adoration for the crowd, and dropped to one knee. He held up a velvet box, a ridiculously large diamond winking inside.

My stomach twisted. This was it. The public trap.

As he opened his mouth to speak, a commotion erupted from the crowd. A woman screamed.

It was Olivia Monroe. She was clutching her chest, her face pale, before collapsing dramatically to the floor.

Chaos.

Ethan didn't hesitate. He dropped the ring box, which clattered and rolled across the stage. He abandoned me, still standing there in the spotlight, and vaulted into the crowd. He reached Olivia in seconds, sweeping her limp form into his arms, playing the hero for the cameras and the assembled underworld.

As he carried her toward the exit, she lifted her head from his shoulder. Her eyes met mine across the room.

And she smirked.

The humiliation was a physical blow, but underneath it, a strange calm settled over me. He had made my decision for me. He had made it easy.

I turned and walked off the stage, melting back into the shadows. I was going to New York.