Olivia woke to the sound of shattering glass.
Her heart lurched. She bolted upright, tangled in the silk sheets of Damon's bed. Her eyes flicked to the doorway—dark, silent. No footsteps. No voices.
But the air was charged.
She crept from the bed, heart thudding against her ribs, and stepped into the hallway barefoot. The broken glass glinted beneath a table near the entrance—one of the vases had been knocked over. Shards scattered across the floor like ice. It wasn't an accident.
Someone had been here.
Her skin prickled.
She rushed to Damon's study.
Empty.
Her voice was a breath. "Damon?"
No answer.
Her eyes fell on his desk—and what was missing from it.
The black ledger. Gone.
Panic surged like lightning in her spine.
Meanwhile — Downtown Manhattan
Damon leaned against the hood of his car, eyes fixed on the sleek building across the street. Vespera Holdings. The name meant nothing to most people. But to him—it was a bloodstain hidden behind gold.
Inside that building were the people who used to own him.
He'd worked with them. Then against them. Now, they wanted the ledger back—and were willing to burn down everything to get it.
His burner phone buzzed.
Unknown Number: "You're late. We don't like being kept waiting, Cross."
He exhaled and sent a reply. "You'll get what you want. But not before we talk."
They didn't respond.
He shoved the phone in his pocket and returned to the car, gripping the steering wheel with white knuckles. He hadn't told Olivia the full truth.
Because if he had—she'd never forgive him.
Back at the Penthouse
When Damon returned, Olivia was already waiting, sitting in the dark, the shattered vase cleaned up, the floor spotless. Too spotless.
"You were followed," she said before he could speak.
His steps slowed. "What did you see?"
"Nothing. And that's the problem. Whoever came in was clean, fast, and knew exactly what to take."
Damon's jaw clenched. "The ledger."
"Gone." Her voice trembled. "I wanted to hate you. But now I think we're both being hunted."
He crossed to her, crouching down. "I never meant for you to get dragged into this."
"But you did."
"I know."
She stared into his eyes. "Then tell me everything, Damon. No more lies. No more protecting me from truths that already have teeth in my skin."
He rose slowly, pacing like a caged animal.
"You know your father built his fortune through manipulation and shadow deals. What you don't know is that he wasn't the king—he was just a high-ranking piece."
"A pawn?" she guessed.
"No. A knight. He moved quickly, did damage, and protected the crown. The real people in power—the ones behind Vespera Holdings—they used him to expand their empire. When he got too ambitious, they turned on him."
She swallowed hard. "So they had him killed?"
Damon nodded once.
"And now they think I have whatever secrets he kept hidden."
His silence was answer enough.
She wrapped her arms around herself. "They want me dead."
"No," Damon said darkly. "They want to use you. As bait. As leverage. Same way your father used you with me."
"But you won't let that happen," she said softly.
It wasn't a question.
His voice dropped to a whisper. "I'll burn the world down before I let them touch you."
Later That Night
Sleep was impossible. Olivia sat at the edge of the rooftop terrace, staring out over the city like it might offer her answers.
Damon joined her, a glass of whiskey in one hand, his expression unreadable.
She turned toward him. "Why did you say yes to marrying me?"
He hesitated. "At first? Because it was useful."
The truth stung, but she didn't look away.
"And now?" she whispered.
He sat beside her, close but not touching. "Now I'm not sure if this marriage is what's saving me or destroying me."
She turned to him fully. "What if it's doing both?"
Their eyes locked.
She reached out slowly,