The morning light streaming through the floor-to-ceiling windows of Café de l'Aube was a soft, buttery gold, casting a warm glow over the pristine marble tabletop. Clara Vance sat in a secluded corner booth, a bone-china cup of black coffee resting untouched beside a stack of legal documents.

For

The elevator ride to Seraphina Croft’s penthouse was a blur of humiliating, agonizing panic for Julian. He clutched his bruised wrist to his chest, his mind racing in a hundred different directions, unable to process the absolute absurdity of what had just happened at the café.

*Victor Sterling.*

The relentless strobe of paparazzi flashbulbs illuminated the grand entrance of the Sterling Plaza, bouncing off the polished marble columns and the gleaming hoods of luxury town cars.

Julian Thorne adjusted the lapels of his custom tuxedo, his stomach churning with a toxic cocktail of anxiety and