I’ve watched Julian Voss from afar for years—his sharp profile on magazine covers, his voice in interviews so controlled it borders on cruel. I told myself it was admiration. That was a lie. It was longing.

Now, I’m standing in his penthouse, silk gown clinging to my skin, champagne flute trembling slightly in my hand. The charity gala is in full swing, but he’s retreated to the balcony, as always—the man who hosts millions but avoids people.

This is my shot. Seduce him. Secure the Voss Industries endorsement. Save my mother’s life.

I step outside. The city glows below, rain misting the air. He doesn’t turn.

‘You’re not like the others,’ he says quietly.

My pulse spikes. ‘What do you mean?’

‘They come for the money. You… you hummed Clara’s lullaby inside. Only family knew that.’

I freeze. A mistake. A slip.

He finally looks at me, eyes like frozen mercury. ‘Why were you humming it?’

I could lie. I should lie.

But the truth burns behind my ribs.