The underground gallery was hidden beneath a crumbling warehouse in the Meatpacking District, but inside, it was a masterclass in illicit luxury. Exposed brick walls were lined with velvet ropes, and the lighting was deliberately dim, casting sharp shadows over the avant-garde sculptures and classic

The ripple effect in a room full of high-society elites was instantaneous. Whispers spread like wildfire, jumping from cocktail tables to velvet-roped VIP sections.

*Five million dollars.*

*A cashier's check.*

*Chloe Sterling just got completely outmaneuvered.*

Nora stood by the newly acquired

The morning the article dropped, the Croft Syndicate’s executive floor was eerily quiet. It was the kind of heavy, suffocating silence that preceded a hurricane, or in this case, the wrath of a billionaire whose possessive streak had just been violently provoked.

Nora Vance sat at her sleek mahogan