flash
The early morning air felt like cold water slapped against my face as I stepped out onto 5th Avenue. My thrift-store silver dress swished against my ankles, a noisy, glaring sign of a fantasy that was already evaporating into the dawn mist. / Chapter 4 / 8

Chapter 4 - THE GLASS CAGE

"Your what?" I almost choked.

"Get in," Julian ordered, shoving me gently into the leather interior of the armored sedan. Cassie scrambled in after me, hyperventilating. Julian slammed the door, jumped into the front passenger seat, and barked at the driver: "Vance Tower. Lock down the perimeter."

"Are you insane?" I yelled from the back seat. "You think making me your fiancée is going to fix this? You have blood in your bedroom and a ten-million-dollar target on my back!"

Julian turned around in his seat, looking at me with absolute composure.

"The person who put Clarissa's blood in my room wants to destroy Vance Logistics," Julian said coldly. "They used you because you were an unknown factor—a ghost without high-society ties. If I claim you're my secret fiancée, the stolen Vance File becomes an internal family dispute, not a criminal heist. It buys us forty-eight hours before the board votes to remove me."

"And what happens after forty-eight hours?" Cassie squeaked.

"We find the real killer," Julian said. "Or we both end up in a federal prison."

Thirty minutes later, we were whisked up a private elevator into the sky penthouse of Vance Tower—a glass palace overlooking central park. But the romantic haven from last night was gone. Now, the room was buzzing with forensic technicians, cyber-analysts, and guards in tactical gear.

Julian led me into a private study, shutting out the chaos.

"Wash your hands. Change your clothes," he said, tossing a silk robe onto a leather sofa. "We have a press conference in three hours."

"I am NOT lying to the world for you, Mr. Vance," I spat, stepping up to him. "You lied to me. You sat on that balcony, acted like a poet, talked about my murals, and made me feel... special! While all along, you were using me as a pawn!"

Julian closed the distance between us in two strides. He pinned me gently against the wooden bookcase, his hands resting on either side of my shoulders. The heat radiating off him made my pulse spike out of control.

"I didn't lie about the murals, Nora," he whispered, his voice dropping an octave. "When you talked about painting freedom mid-transit... it was the first real thing I’ve heard in this godforsaken city in three years. I didn't choose you to be framed. But I will burn this city down to keep you safe."

"Why?" I breathed, searching his dark eyes.

Julian reached into his pocket and pulled out a small, worn piece of paper. He unfolded it and handed it to me.

It was a sketch—a charcoal drawing of a woman standing on a fire escape, looking up at the sky.

May you like

The screech of the chopper’s rotor blades vibrated directly through the freezing slate beneath my spine. The blinding white vortex of snow kicked up by the downdraft burned my eyes, but I forced my lids open, locking my gaze onto the amber visor of the rescue specialist dropping out of the sky.

The screech of the chopper’s rotor blades vibrated directly through the...

Daniel stepped toward the bed, his polished leather shoes squeaking against the pristine hospital linoleum. He reached for the tray table, his fingers brushing the edge of the papers. His voice was low, coated in a practiced, corporate calm that made my stomach churn worse than the spiked blood pressure.

Daniel stepped toward the bed, his polished leather shoes squeaking agai...

The silence in the dining room stretched thin, heavy enough to slice with a butter knife. Robert, Michael’s father, adjusted his napkin, completely oblivious to the silent war being fought across the porcelain plates.

The silence in the dining room stretched thin, heavy enough to slice wit...

My jaw dropped. "This... this is my work. From three years ago. I sold this on Etsy for fifty dollars."

"I bought it," Julian said quietly. "I’ve had it on my wall for three years. I didn't meet you by accident last night, Nora. I invited Ruth Sterling to bring you."

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