Julian's hand hovered over the handle of the balcony door.

Francesca held her breath. Her lungs burned.

She was trapped.

If he opened the door, it was over. The merger. Her mother's care. Her revenge.

"Julian," Grafton said.

His voice was weak, raspy. Nothing like the commanding tone he had used on her.

"Father called last night," Grafton continued. "He mentioned some... irregularities on your corporate card."

Julian froze.

His hand dropped from the door handle. He spun around.

"What?" Julian's voice pitched up. "That's... that was for client entertainment."

"He thinks it was for jewelry," Grafton said.

While Julian sputtered, Grafton lifted his hand.

He knocked a heavy crystal vase off the side table.

Crash.

The sound was explosive.

Julian jumped.

"My hand," Grafton said. He gripped his wrist, feigning a spasm. "It seized up. Call the nurse."

Julian looked at the shattered glass with disgust. He looked at his brother with pity and annoyance.

"Fine," Julian snapped. He turned his back to the balcony to pull out his phone.

Francesca didn't hesitate.

She slid away from the balcony door, her back against the wall, moving toward the master closet. She remembered the blueprints she'd reviewed for her father when he was considering a similar property. There was a service access panel, hidden behind the linen shelves, leading to a staff corridor.

She found the panel, her fingers fumbling with the invisible latch. It clicked open. She squeezed through the narrow opening into a dark, dusty passage.

She found the service stairwell and ran.

She didn't stop until she was in her own apartment, three miles away.

She showered for an hour. She scrubbed her skin until it was raw, trying to wash off the scent of Grafton's sheets and the memory of Julian's betrayal.

Her phone pinged.

Sender: Unknown.

Subject: Contract Copy.

It was the PDF.

She opened it. She read every clause.

It was ironclad. If she breached confidentiality, she would owe him five million dollars.

She called her friend Sarah, a contract lawyer. She didn't use names.

"It's a trap," Sarah told her. "Whoever wrote this... they own the client. Body and soul."

Francesca hung up.

She had to go to Faulkner Tower at 2:00 PM. She had documents to drop off for her father.

She walked into the lobby. She kept her head high.

She pressed the elevator button.

The doors opened.

Grafton was inside. In his chair.

Julian was standing next to him.

Francesca's stomach dropped.

"Babe!" Julian smiled. It was the smile of a man who hadn't just cheated on his fiancée.

He pulled her into the elevator. He kissed her cheek.

Francesca stiffened. She forced herself not to wipe the spot.

She looked in the mirrored wall of the elevator.

Grafton was watching her.

His eyes met hers in the reflection. They were dark, amused, and possessive.

"We were just going to look at rings," Julian said. "Grafton wanted to come along. Get some fresh air."

"How nice," Francesca said. Her voice was brittle.

"I want to see what the future Mrs. Faulkner likes," Grafton said.

His voice was polite, but Francesca heard the threat.

Julian's hand slid down to her waist. He squeezed.

Francesca flinched.

Grafton saw it. His eyes narrowed slightly.

He tapped on his phone.

Francesca's phone buzzed in her purse.

She glanced down.

Grafton: My apartment. Tonight. 9 PM. Or I tell Julian where you were last night.

She looked up at the mirror.

Grafton smiled at her. It was a shark's smile.

She wanted to scream. She wanted to hit him.

But she thought of the nursing home bill on her counter.

She typed back.

Francesca: I'll be there. But first, I want Lila to bleed.

She hit send.

Grafton looked at his phone.

He looked back at her in the mirror. He nodded once.

Grafton: Deal.

The phone rang at 10:00 AM the next morning.

The caller ID flashed: Lila <3.

Francesca stared at it. She let it ring three times.

She answered.

"Hey, girl!" Lila's voice was sugary sweet. "I miss you! We have to celebrate the engagement. Shopping?"

Francesca looked at the screenshot on her laptop. The one from the video. Lila's face twisted in ecstasy.

"I'd love to," Francesca said. Her voice was steady. "Let's go to Madison Avenue."

"Perfect," Lila squealed. "You know I've been eyeing that dress at Valentino."

Of course she had. And she expected Francesca to pay for it. Like always.

"Meet me at Sarabeth's for brunch first," Francesca said.

She hung up.

She opened her desk drawer.

She took out her own phone and activated a piece of software she'd acquired after the last corporate espionage attempt at her father's firm. It created a phantom Wi-Fi network, a perfect mirror of the public one at the restaurant. An ugly tool for an ugly job.

She dressed in a cream suit. She looked like money. She looked like a victim.

She walked into the restaurant.

Lila was already there, sipping a mimosa.

She stood up to hug Francesca.

The scent hit Francesca. It was Julian's cologne. Mixed with Lila's floral perfume.

It made Francesca's stomach turn.

"You look tired, babe," Lila said, sitting down. "Wedding stress?"

"Something like that," Francesca said.

Lila leaned in. "So, I met someone new. He's... complicated. But so rich."

She was talking about Julian. She was bragging about sleeping with Francesca's fiancé, to Francesca's face.

"Really?" Francesca asked. "Do I know him?"

"No," Lila said quickly. "He's very private."

Francesca smiled. "I'm happy for you."

She gestured to Lila's phone. "The Wi-Fi here is terrible, use the private guest network. The password is 'SarabethsVIP'."

"Oh, you're a lifesaver," Lila said, tapping in the password. A moment later, a quiet notification pinged on Francesca's phone, hidden in her lap. Target Acquired. Mirroring Data Stream.

The data was streaming in. Texts. Photos. Banking apps.

She opened the message thread with Julian.

Lila: She's such a prude. I bet she just lies there.

Julian: She's an investment, babe. You're the fun.

Francesca felt a cold calm settle over her.

The waiter brought the check.

Francesca didn't move.

Usually, she grabbed it.

Lila waited. She cleared her throat.

Francesca sipped her water.

"Are you getting this?" Lila asked, her smile straining.

"Oh, I forgot my wallet in the car," Francesca lied smoothly. "Can you get this one? I'll treat you at the boutique."

Lila's jaw tightened. "Sure."

She put down her card. She looked annoyed.

"Ready to shop?" Francesca asked.

"Born ready," Lila said.

Francesca texted Grafton under the table.

Francesca: The fish is on the hook. Madison Avenue. 30 minutes.

Grafton: En route. Don't bore me.

The boutique smelled of expensive leather and exclusivity.

Sales associates swarmed them. They knew Francesca. They knew the Pearson name.

Lila was in the fitting room.

She came out wearing a silver sequined gown. It cost twelve thousand dollars.

"It's gorgeous," Lila said, twirling. "Francesca, isn't it perfect for your engagement party?"

"It fits you perfectly," Francesca said. "Like a glove."

"I'll take it," Lila told the sales associate. "And the shoes. And the bag."

The associate beamed. She started piling boxes on the counter.

She looked at Francesca, waiting for the card.

Francesca crossed her arms. She looked confused.

"Why are you looking at me?" Francesca asked loudly.

The store went quiet.

Lila froze. "What?"

"You're buying them, right?" Francesca said. "Like you said at brunch. You've been saving up."

Lila's face flushed pink. "Francesca, stop joking. You know my trust fund doesn't disburse until next month."

"But my father froze my cards for the wedding budget," Francesca said. Her voice carried. "I literally have zero dollars on me."

The sales associate's smile vanished. She looked at Lila with sudden suspicion.

"I... I can put it on my card," Lila stammered. "I'll just pay it off later."

She pulled out her Visa.

She handed it to the clerk.

Lila looked confident. She didn't know Francesca had logged into her banking app five minutes ago and flagged all transactions as fraudulent.

The clerk inserted the card.

Beep.

"Declined," the clerk said, her voice flat.

Lila laughed nervously. "That's a mistake. Try it again."

Beep.

"Declined again," the clerk said, pulling the card out. Her tone grew cooler. "Ma'am, it says there's a security hold on the account. It's asking for a call to the issuing bank to verify your identity."

"It's not stolen!" Lila shrieked. "It's mine!"

Other customers were looking. A woman in pearls whispered to her daughter.

Lila turned to Francesca. "Did you do this?"

Francesca held up her hands. "I haven't touched your wallet, Lila."

"You have to pay for this," Lila hissed. "I'm already wearing the dress."

"I can't," Francesca said. "I'm broke. Remember?"

"Miss," the clerk said, stepping around the counter. "I need you to take off the dress. Now."

Lila looked like she was going to cry. Or explode.

The door to the boutique opened.

A hum of an electric motor cut through the tension.

Grafton Faulkner rolled in.

Two massive bodyguards flanked him.

He looked like a king on a throne. His suit was bespoke. His face was bored.

He stopped in the center of the room.

He looked at Lila, red-faced and trembling.

He looked at Francesca, calm and cool.

"Quite a show," Grafton said. His voice was deep, commanding the room. "Is someone bothering my brother's fiancée?"

Lila's eyes lit up.

"Grafton!" she cried. She ran toward him. "Thank God. These people are being awful to me."