I didn’t have the app.
I hated Veil. I hated the drones that recorded everything, the way people shared everything, the quiet power plays sitting underneath every upload. I hated dynasty profiles that turned marriages into content and wives into trending topics.
What I hated most, standing there with my hands on her thighs, was the idea of her being turned into content for the world. Dynasties would judge her appearance. The outer world, would live the curated event through her. Judge her with no context. Some through their own lens of envy, others seeing beauty, and the select few would see sadness under her polished smile.
I brushed my thumb over a spot on her leg, forcing my voice even. “I don’t need Veil to know when you’re not okay, baby.”
Her mouth curved, soft. She thought I meant it figuratively. I didn’t correct her. I’d built a life on reading body language and microexpressions; I could track her with a single photo.
“Text when you’re in the car. I want to know how the pain is after five minutes sitting up.”
“You’re relentless.”
She kissed me once, then stepped back toward the elevator, moving carefully but with her spine a little straighter.
“I’ll send you the plate.” She glanced back as the elevator doors slid open. “And maybe one of my heels, if they don’t murder me first.”
“I’ll be marking you like a report card. Food, pain level, compliance.”
“You would.”
Yeah. I would. And for the first time in my life, the thought slid in.
Maybe I should get the damn app.
Which men leaned in when she smiled, and how fast I could get their names, their titles, leverage if I needed to break something later.
“That’s because I love you. And because dynasty catering should be illegal.” I couldn’t stop myself from feeling smug, staring at her. So fucking beautiful. And so fucking mine.
She laughed for real this time, the sound bright enough to crack through my ribs. “I love you too.”
The elevator closed and I hated that it took her.
I reached for my phone before the doors had even sealed. Pinned her chat to the top where it belonged there, above business, above blood. This woman was going to ruin me.
My thumb hovered, then slid to the brothers’ group chat. If I was going to bite the bullet and finally learn how to use Veil, I’d have to suffer through Luca and Bastion laughing themselves sick while they explained it.
Worth it, if it meant one more way to keep eyes on my girl.
19
Madeline
I survived the first hour on muscle memory alone.
Heirs and their wives floated between displays with that effortless dynasty glide, drinks in hand, laughter pitched at the exact volume the room required.
I smiled when I was supposed to. Tilted my head at the right moments. Let out two neat little laughs at jokes I never actually heard.
Under the emerald silk, my body throbbed.
The painkillers had taken the edge off the sharpest burn. Every shift of weight reminded me—Vince had been there. Inside me.
I rolled my shoulders back, adjusted my spine, tucked one elbow behind my waist to reset my posture. The movement was as drilled as any negotiation script.
“Madeline.”
I turned before the second syllable finished. My father approached with two executives, all of them in dark suits and matching cufflinks.
