Chapter 8
He Faked His Death, So I Ruined His Empire
The evening news was a relentless loop of flash photography, speculative headlines, and poorly concealed envy.
Clara sat on the edge of the sprawling white leather sofa in Victor’s penthouse, staring at the massive flat-screen television mounted on the far wall. The screen displayed a high-definit
Chapter 9
The morning sun filtered through the floor-to-ceiling windows of the penthouse, but the atmosphere inside was as tense as a war room.
"Absolutely not," Victor barked, slamming his palm flat against the granite kitchen island. "It is a suicide mission, Clara. Julian lands in less than four hours. H
Chapter 10
Clara pressed her spine flat against the cold plaster wall behind the heavy velvet curtains, her heart hammering against her ribs like a trapped bird. The scent of bergamot and black pepper drifted through the sliver of space between the drapes—a ghost made flesh, invading the room.
Through the na