“You okay?” he asks casually, eyes flicking over me in a way that makes it clear he already knows the answer.
“Fine,” I say, because it’s the only safe response.
He steps closer, sets the mug aside, and cups my jaw, tilting my face up so I have to meet his gaze. He studies me like an investment—checking for cracks, weaknesses, anything that might devalue what he owns.
“You don’t need to think about him,” Noah says quietly. “Whatever he was, whatever you think you owe him—it’s over.”
His thumb brushes beneath my lip, smearing the edge of red just slightly, and my stomach tightens. The touch is intimate. Controlled. A reminder.
“I don’t owe him anything,” I reply.
“Good.” His smile returns, all charm. “Because I don’t share.”
The words are light, almost teasing, but there’s steel underneath them. Noah kisses me then—slow, deliberate, meant to be seen even though no one’s watching. It’s not passion. It’s possession. A performance we’ve both perfected.
When he pulls back, he rests his forehead briefly against mine. “We’ll be out all day. Meetings. Lunch. Distractions.” His eyes search my face in the mirror-like surface of the window behind me. “By the time we’re home, this will all feel like nothing.”
I nod.
That’s the problem.
It never feels like nothing.
We leave the house together, footsteps echoing through halls that have never heard shouting, never held secrets deeper than money can bury. As Noah locks the door behind us, I pause for half a second on the steps, the air sharp and cold in my lungs.
Somewhere—not here, but close enough to feel—steel doors are opening.
Chains are coming off.
I slide into the passenger seat and let Noah drive, my gaze fixed on the passing streets, the city waking up around us. My phone buzzes once in my bag. I don’t check it. I already know it’s nothing important.
If Kai wants to find me, he won’t need a screen.
He always knew where I was.
And as the car pulls away from the house—the glass, the marble, the carefully built illusion—I can’t shake the feeling that something ancient and feral has just slipped its leash.
Kai is free.
And no matter how beautiful this life looks from the outside, it was never built to keep monsters out.
Scarlett
The ballroom glitters like it’s trying to convince everyone inside that nothing ugly has ever existed.
Crystal chandeliers hang heavy from the ceiling, throwing fractured light across polished marble and silk gowns, diamonds flashing at throats and wrists like quiet declarations of power. The air smells expensive—champagne, perfume, money layered so thick it coats the back of my tongue.
This is my life now.
Perfect. Immaculate. Untouchable.
I stand beside Noah at the edge of the room, my hand tucked into the crook of his arm, posture flawless, smile practiced to the point of muscle memory. My dress is black and backless, cut low enough to be daring but tasteful enough to pass. Fabric clings to me like a second skin, every step deliberate, every movement curated.
People look at us.
Noah Eaton, golden boy with a razor-sharp mind and a reputation that opens doors before he even reaches them. Me, on his arm, polished and quiet and beautiful in the way men like to display.
I should feel proud.
