The heavy oak door of the penthouse clicked shut, the biometric lock engaging with a soft, final beep. Julian was gone.

Clara stood in the center of the vast, sunlit living room, her heart hammering a frantic rhythm against her ribs. The faint scent of Julian’s cedar and bergamot cologne still lin

"Clara."

The voice came from the doorway, quiet, deep, and utterly devoid of warmth.

Clara screamed, dropping her phone. It clattered against the hardwood floor. She spun around in the leather chair to find Julian Cross standing in the threshold of the office.

He had taken off his suit jacket,

The morning light filtering through the bulletproof glass of the penthouse did nothing to warm the sprawling, sterile space. It only highlighted the rigid lines of the gilded cage Clara Hayes now called home.

Julian stood by the floor-to-ceiling window, meticulously adjusting the cuffs of his char