The tea tasted wrong the moment it hit my tongue—cloying, thick, like syrup laced with static. \n\nAlex Charles smiled across the marble table, all polished charm and cufflinks worth more than my rent. 'Drink up, Judith. Consider it a bonus for your discretion.' My vision blurred at the edges. I tried to stand, but my legs wouldn’t listen. The handbag—the limited-edition Croisette—I’d brought for him slid from my grip. That’s when the door slammed open. \n\n'Get away from her.' A voice like tempered steel. Aron Charles filled the doorway, jaw tight, eyes burning with something between rage and recognition. He caught me before I hit the floor. \n\nNow I’m in his penthouse guest room, wrapped in silk robes that smell like him, pulse still unsteady. He paces outside, arguing with lawyers. But when he finally looks at me, really looks, it’s not pity I see. It’s challenge. And desire. \n\nHe offers me protection, a place to hide while they build a case against his father. Or I can walk—walk back into the life that’s been slowly erasing me.