But sleep, it turned out, was a liar.

Clara lay in the dark of her bedroom, staring up at the shadows playing across the ceiling. The adrenaline of the evening—the shouting, the shattered ceramic, the finality of walking out the door—was still burning through her veins.

She had just told Marcus

The offices of Sterling & Vance Law Group were a stark contrast to the grease and heat of a commercial kitchen. The air smelled of expensive leather and lemon polish, and the floor-to-ceiling windows offered a sweeping view of the Chicago skyline.

Clara sat in a plush armchair across from Diane St

Julian Thorne woke up with a pounding headache and a foul taste in his mouth.

He rolled over in his king-sized bed, wincing as the morning sunlight pierced through the sheer curtains of his penthouse apartment. Beside him, Serena Croft was still asleep, her blonde hair splayed perfectly across the