A year later, and it still hits me like violence.
My fingers tighten around the file, hard enough that the cardboard gives, edges bending under the pressure.
“Laurent’s desperate for investors,” Sylvester continues, unaware or pretending not to notice the shift in my posture. “There’s talk of selling assets quietly. And—”
“And?” I say, voice too calm.
“To prevent scandal, they’re arranging a strategic marriage alliance with a European business house. Someone prominent enough to stabilize their reputation.”
For a moment, nothing moves in the room.
Not the air.
Not me.
Then I laugh. Slow. Sharp. Precise.
“A Laurent bride up for sale?” I say, leaning back in my chair. “How poetic.”
Sylvester doesn’t respond, but I catch the brief flicker in his expression—the quick tightening around his eyes.
Suspicion. Curiosity. Concern.
Good.
Heshouldbe concerned.
I close the file, still smiling—a smile that feels more like a blade than an expression. Another laugh slips out of me, low and cold, because the irony is too perfect.
Vivian Laurent.
The one woman who burned herself into my memory without trying.
The daughter Henri plans to auction off like a pretty liability.
And the best part? He has no idea she’s the only weakness he has worth exploiting.
Sylvester shifts his stance, the air in the room thick with unspoken questions. I look up at him, smile widening.
“What is it?” he asks carefully.
I shake my head slowly, amusement cutting through me like a fresh blade. They have no idea who they’re playing with.
I’ve spent years moving through their world—old-money elites in tailored suits and inherited arrogance. The ones who sneer at the Bratva from behind crystal glasses and trust funds. Who pretend their bloodlines make them untouchable.
Idiots.
If they knew the truth behind the silk, the champagne, the accent I polished like a weapon, they’d choke on their caviar.
I hid my lineage for a reason.
So that when I finally chose to move—when I decided to take something from their precious world—they wouldn’t see it coming.
But now? Now I’m done pretending. Now I’ll make them kneel. Especially her.
Vivian Laurent—the daughter of the empire that once laughed at men like me. The daughter of the empire that almost crushed me.
The girl who melted against me in a Monaco stable, then looked at me afterward like she didn’t understand what she’d awakened.
