The whiskey burned going down, but not as bad as Mason’s words still echoing in my skull. ‘You were never enough,’ he’d said. I stared into my glass, the bar lights smearing into golden halos. That’s when he sat beside me—tall, dark, voice like velvet over steel. We talked. Laughed. One moment I was numb, the next, his lips were on mine, electric and urgent.

And then I saw it—the silver ring with the twisted ‘F’ crest. Foster.

I broke away, heart slamming. “You’re… Lydia’s brother?”

His eyes narrowed. “Do I know you?”

I didn’t answer. I ran.

Two days later, the call came: Dad arrested. Conspiracy. Fraud. Mason’s fingerprints were all over it. And the only lawyer willing to take the case? Ethan Foster.

He showed up at my door with a folder and a proposition. “Be my companion,” he said. “Six months. No strings. Just… presence. In return, I free your father.”

My hands trembled. Say no and lose Dad forever. Say yes and walk into a fire I might not survive.