A few seconds later, Audrey walks into the kitchen.
She is wearing the same faded Georgetown t-shirt she wore two nights ago, paired with gray sweatpants that are entirely too long for her. She has a messy knot of hair on top of her head, and the remnants of yesterday’s expensive makeup are smudged slightly under her eyes.
She stops at the edge of the kitchen island, looking at me.
There is a moment of heavy, loaded hesitation. She is remembering the car. She is remembering the confession. I can see the exact second her brain tries to figure out how to navigate the morning after a billionaire psychopath tells her she is his prize.
She chooses sarcasm. It is her default armor.
"Please tell me you know how to make coffee," she says, her voice thick with sleep. "Because if I have to operate heavy machinery right now, I might burn your penthouse down."
"I know how to make coffee," I reply, my voice even.
I turn around, grab a clean mug from the cabinet, and pour her a cup from the French press. I slide it across the counter.
She walks over and wraps both hands around the ceramic, letting the heat seep into her skin. She takes a sip, her eyes closing briefly in pure relief.
"Okay," she murmurs, exhaling a long breath. "You can stay."
"I own the building, Audrey."
"Details." She opens her eyes and looks at the tablet resting face down next to me. "Is it bad? The news?"
"It is exactly what we planned." I tap the screen, waking the tablet, and turn it toward her. "The photograph is everywhere. Simon’s PR team is currently in full panic mode trying to figure out how to spin the fact that his older brother is engaged to the woman he discarded."
Audrey stares at the picture. Her thumb rubs rhythmically against the side of her coffee mug. She doesn't look triumphant. She looks like someone staring at a car crash.
"I look terrified," she whispers.
"You look untouchable," I correct her.
She shakes her head slightly, her gaze dropping to the vintage ring on her finger. "Simon called me four times between midnight and six this morning. He left two voicemails."
My jaw locks. The urge to pick up my phone and order Grant to pay Simon a physical visit is sudden and violent. I force my hands to stay flat on the counter.
"Did you listen to them?" I ask.
"No." She takes another sip of coffee, avoiding my eyes. "I deleted them. I blocked his number yesterday, but he used a burner app to bypass it. He’s persistent when he thinks someone is taking his toys away."
"He will stop," I say. "By the end of the day, my father will order him to cease all contact with you. Preston will not risk a public scandal before the engagement party."
"Your father called me a stray." Audrey finally looks up at me. The vulnerability in her eyes is stripped bare, unhidden by the usual layer of irony. "He looked at me like I was something he scraped off the bottom of his shoe. And Simon... Simon didn't even try to defend me when we were together. He just let them treat me like a placeholder."
She sets the mug down. Her hands are shaking slightly.
"I spent four years trying to prove I was good enough for that family," she says, her voice dropping to a bitter whisper. "I wore the right clothes. I went to the right dinners. I smiled at men who looked at me like I was a spreadsheet. And in the end, it didn't matter. They just erased me."
I look at her. At the messy hair, the oversized shirt, the sheer, exhausted humanity of her standing in my sterile kitchen.
"They didn't erase you," I say quietly.
"They took my company, Malcolm."
"A company is a legal entity. It is a tax ID and a lease agreement." I step around the island, cutting the distancebetween us. I don't touch her, but I stand close enough that she has to look up at me. "They took your assets. They did not take you. The woman standing in this kitchen is the same woman who built that firm from nothing. You are the architect. They just stole the blueprints."
Audrey’s breath hitches. She stares at me, her eyes searching my face for the lie.
"You don't have to prove you are good enough for the Vance family, Audrey," I continue, my voice dropping to a rough murmur. "The Vance family is a disease. You survived them. That makes you stronger than Simon will ever be."
