"It has to be a Google image," Illa said, her voice shaking slightly. "He's bluffing. He has to be."

She snatched Evie's phone and typed: Nice picture. Did you download it from Pinterest?

The three dots appeared immediately.

Cartier, Fifth Avenue. Ask for Jean-Luc,He's expecting you. Pick two,One for you, and one for the noisy friend.

Illa stared at the phone. "The noisy friend? Did he just call me the noisy friend?" Then her eyes lit up. "Wait. He said pick one for me?"

"I am not doing this," Evie said, standing up. "This feels like... like I'm being bought. I'm not a sugar baby."

It's a wedding ring, Evie, Gus texted, as if reading her mind. You are a wife, not a mistress. Go. Before I have security drag you there.

"He's bossy," Illa said, already running to her room to change. "I love him. Get dressed. We are going to Cartier."

An hour later, they stood in front of the Cartier Mansion.

Evie felt like an imposter in her jeans and blazer, but Illa marched in like she owned the place.

Before they could even approach the counter, a man in an impeccable suit materialized.

"Mrs. Williams?" he asked, bowing slightly to Evie.

Her stomach did a flip. "Uh, yes?"

"Mr. G has arranged everything. Please, follow me."

He led them past the tourists, past the glass cases, up the sweeping staircase to a private room that smelled of lilies and money. Champagne was already poured.

Jean-Luc donned white gloves and brought out two velvet trays.

"For the bride," he said, opening the first one.

A yellow diamond sat on the velvet. It was radiant cut, flanked by two white trillions. It looked like a captured piece of the sun. It was massive.

"A Canary diamond," Illa breathed. "Vivid fancy yellow. My god, Evie, the clarity..."

"And for the friend," Jean-Luc opened the second box. A pink diamond pendant. Smaller than the raw stone in the picture, but still exquisite.

"Mr. G said the yellow suits Mrs. Williams' warmth," Jean-Luc said smoothly. "And the pink is for... amusement."

Illa didn't care about the insult. She was already holding the pendant up to her neck. "He can call me whatever he wants. This is gorgeous."

Evie looked at the ring. "I can't wear this. It's too big."

"Mr. G insisted," Jean-Luc said. "He said if you don't take it, he will question my competence."

Emotional blackmail. Effective.

Evie slid the ring onto her finger. It fit perfectly. Not just close-perfectly. A chill went down her spine. How did he know?

"It's beautiful," she whispered. For a second, the weight of the gold on her finger felt like an anchor. A promise.

The door to the VIP room opened.

"I demand to see the manager!"

Evie froze. That voice.

Darrin walked in, a blonde girl hanging off his arm. He stopped dead when he saw Evie.

"Everleigh?" He blinked, then his face twisted into a sneer. "What are you doing here? Applying for a janitor job?"

The blonde girl giggled. "Is this the ex who lived in your basement?"

Evie instinctively put her hand behind her back. She didn't want to engage.

But Illa stepped forward. She held up the pink diamond pendant, letting it catch the light. "Oh, sorry, is the glare bothering you? It's just so... flawless."

Darrin's eyes bulged. "Where did you get that?"

"Gift," Illa said breezily. "From Evie's husband."

"Husband?" Darrin laughed, a harsh, barking sound. "You mean the guy she picked up at the bar? What did he give her? A cubic zirconia?"

Jean-Luc stepped forward, his face like stone. "Sir, please lower your voice. You are disturbing our VIP clients."

"VIP?" Darrin sputtered. "She's broke! She has nothing!"

Evie felt a surge of anger. Not for her, but for the man who had sent her here. Gus wasn't nothing.

She brought her hand out from behind her back. The yellow diamond caught the overhead lights and practically exploded with brilliance. It cast a literal reflection on the wall.

Darrin stopped breathing. The blonde girl's jaw dropped.

"My husband," Evie said, her voice steady, "has excellent taste. And unlike you, he doesn't need to shout to be heard."

Darrin looked from the ring to Evie, his face turning a mottled shade of red.

He knew jewelry.

He knew what that stone was worth. It was worth more than his life.

"You..." he stammered.

"Jean-Luc," Evie said, turning to the manager. "Could we have some privacy?"

"Certainly, Mrs. Williams." Jean-Luc gestured to security. "Sir, please escort these guests out."

As Darrin was ushered out, sputtering, Evie looked down at the ring. It felt like armor.

She pulled out her phone.

Ring received. It fits. Thank you... husband.

That night, Everleigh sat on the edge of the bed in the guest room, staring at the yellow diamond. She had taken it off and put it on a chain around her neck. It was too heavy to wear on her finger-too heavy with implication.

Her phone buzzed in her hand.

Incoming Video Call: Gus.

She panicked. She dropped the phone on the duvet.

"Answer it!" Illa yelled from the hallway. She was eavesdropping, of course. "Check if he's hot! Or if he's a troll!"

Evie took a deep breath. She picked up the phone. She put her thumb over the camera lens and hit accept.

The screen lit up. The connection was clear, encrypted.

The image was dark. He was in a room with low lighting. She could see the collar of a dark shirt, broad shoulders, the back of a leather chair.

"Move your hand, Evie," his voice came through the speaker. It was even deeper than the recording. "I want to see you."

"I... I'm not wearing makeup," she stammered.

"I didn't marry your makeup. Move your hand."

It was a command, soft but firm. Her thumb slid away from the lens.

She saw herself in the corner of the screen-wet hair, wide eyes, looking terrified.

Then she looked at him.

He leaned forward into the light.

Evie stopped breathing.

He wasn't a troll. He wasn't an old man. He was... devastating. Dark hair, cut short. A nose that was straight and aristocratic. And eyes that were so dark they looked black, framed by thick lashes. But it was the jawline that got her-sharp, tense, covered in a shadow of stubble.

He looked familiar. Like a dream she'd forgotten.

He tilted his head, the light casting half his face in shadow. "Disappointed?"

"No," Evie whispered. "You're... not bald."

He smirked. A slow, lazy curving of his lips that made her stomach flip. "Glad to meet your standards. Illa has been feeding you lies."

"Where are you?" she asked.

"London," he said smoothly. "Business. The time difference is a killer."

He glanced at something off-screen, a subtle movement, but it was enough to convey the pressure of a world she couldn't see. The background was tastefully blurred, a generic but expensive-looking office.

"Does the ring fit?" he asked, his gaze dropping to her neck where the diamond rested against her collarbone. His eyes darkened.

"It fits. It's too much, Gus. I'm afraid I'll lose it."

"If you lose it, I'll buy another one," he said. "You're my wife now. Get used to it."

"What is your full name?" Evie asked suddenly. "The certificate was stained. I can't just call you Gus forever."

He hesitated. For a split second, a shadow passed over his face.

"Gideon," he said. "Gideon Augustus Williams."

"Like the emperor," Evie said. "It suits you. You're bossy enough."

He chuckled, a low rumble. "You can call me Gus. Only my enemies call me by my full name."

Suddenly, a voice spoke from his side of the line. A man's voice, urgent. "Sir, the board is waiting. The Tokyo market is opening..."

Gus hit a button, muting his end. He looked at someone off-screen, his expression shifting from indulgent to terrifyingly cold in a nanosecond. He said something sharp, then turned back to Evie, his face softening.

"I have to go. Work."

"Okay," she said. "Goodnight... Gus."

"Goodnight, Evie."

The screen went black. She sat there for a long time, her heart racing.

Illa burst into the room. "Well? Verdict?"

"He's hot," Evie admitted. "Very hot. His name is Gideon Augustus."

Illa froze. "Agustus?"

"It's his middle name. See? Just a name."

Illa let out a nervous laugh. "Right. Just a name. Because if my brother looked at a woman the way you're smiling right now, the world would probably end. He's a monk. A celibate, workaholic monk."

"Gus isn't a monk," Evie said, thinking of the hickey on her neck.

Next door, Agustus Williams put down his phone. He walked to the window and looked at the light in the guest room of the adjacent penthouse.

"Sir?" his assistant asked tentatively. "The acquisition?"

"Cancel the morning meeting," Agustus said, not looking away from the window. "And get me the tie that matches the blue dress she wore in her profile picture. I want to wear it tomorrow."

"Sir?"

"Just do it."

The next morning, Everleigh stood in front of the mirror, dressed for her first day at the new photography studio.

She wore a simple black turtleneck and slacks.

The yellow diamond was tucked safely under the fabric, resting against her skin like a hot coal.

"Too flashy," she muttered. "Definitely too flashy for a junior assistant."

Her phone rang, An unknown number.

"Hello?"

"You think you're clever, don't you?" Darrin's voice screamed into her ear. "Blocking me? Getting me thrown out of Cartier?"

Her grip on the phone tightened. "Darrin, stop. It's over."

"It's not over until I say it's over!" he yelled. "And that ring? It's fake. Just like you. Who is he? Some old sugar daddy you found on Craigslist?"

"He's my husband," Evie said, her voice shaking but firm. "And he's worth a thousand of you."

"I have photos, Everleigh," Darrin hissed. "Private photos. From that weekend in the Hamptons. If you don't come back and beg..."

The blood drained from her face. "You wouldn't."

"Try me. I'll post them everywhere. I'll send them to your new boss."

Panic, cold and suffocating, clawed at her throat.

Suddenly, there was a sound on the line. A loud thud. Then a scuffle.

"Hey! Who are you? Get off me!" Darrin shrieked.

Then, silence.

A new voice came on the line. Calm. Mechanical. Terrifying.

"Mrs. Williams?"

"Who... who is this?"

"I am legal counsel for Mr. G's firm. We have been monitoring the situation. The pest has been neutralized."

"Neutralized?" Evie gasped. "Did you kill him?"

"We are law-abiding citizens, ma'am," the lawyer said smoothly. "We have simply confiscated his phone and served him with a restraining order. He is currently crying in the hallway."

She could hear faint sobbing in the background. It was definitely Darrin.

"And the photos?" she whispered.

"Deleted. The cloud backup has been scrubbed. The device has been... bricked. You are safe."

"Gus sent you?"

"Mr. G does not tolerate threats against his family. Our corporate security and legal departments are... thorough. Have a good day at work, Mrs. Williams."

The line went dead.

Evie stood there, trembling, a cold dread mixing with a strange sense of security. Corporate security? What kind of 'guy who got lucky in the market' had a legal team that could move that fast, that ruthlessly? It felt like a tank had been used to kill a fly. She opened the Enigma app.

Thank you, she typed. You saved me.

Go to work, Gus replied instantly. Don't be late. I hear the traffic on 5th is bad.

Evie smiled, wiping a tear from her cheek. He was watching. It should have been creepy, but after Darrin... it felt like a warm blanket.

She took a taxi to the studio.

The HR manager, a woman with cat-eye glasses, stared at the lump under Evie's shirt where the ring was, but didn't say anything.

"Welcome to the team, Everleigh," she said. "Your desk is in the back. The newbie corner."

Evie walked to the back. Kerry, a senior photographer with a reputation for eating assistants alive, looked her up and down.

"So you're the charity case," she sneered. "Heard you got in on a portfolio waiver."

"I got in on merit," Evie said, setting down her bag.

"We'll see," Kerry smirked. "Hope your skills are better than your outfit."

Evie sat down, ignoring her. She started organizing her lenses.

Suddenly, the studio door burst open. The owner, Mr. Henderson, ran in, sweating.

"Emergency! Miss Sterling is here early! She wants a portrait session now. But Marco is stuck in the Lincoln Tunnel!"

The room went silent. Miss Sterling. The heiress. The most difficult client in New York.

"I need a photographer!" Henderson yelled. "Who's free?"

No one moved. Everyone knew Sterling ate photographers for breakfast.

Evie stood up. Her legs were shaking, but her hands were steady.

"I'll do it," she said.

Kerry laughed. "You? The newbie? You'll destroy the studio's reputation in five minutes."

Evie looked at Henderson. "Give me ten minutes. If she hates it, you can fire me."

Henderson looked desperate. "Fine. You're up. Don't screw this up."