"Stabbed in the gut? The untouchable Everest Kennedy actually took a hit?" Zeke Lee breathed, disbelieving.

Everest—always the picture of icy control—kept his jaw clamped tight, his face carved from stone.

"C’mon, who is this Annika chick, to make a billionaire playboy like Everest Kennedy go this far?" Zeke chuckled, but his laugh cut off dead when Annika’s phone went straight to voicemail.

Zeke dropped the playful act instantly. Everest got dumped? This mystery woman had to be something else. Any woman that grabbed Everest Kennedy’s attention was already a knockout, but if she’d walked away from him? She had to be ruthless—tougher than any guy he’d ever gone up against.

Zeke, who was used to having people falling all over him, knew heartbreak wasn’t something Everest did. He quickly fumbled for the right thing to say.

"Don’t sweat it, man. You’ll have a dozen women throwing themselves at you before the week’s out. Once she realizes what a catch she threw away? She’ll be sobbing into her pillow."

The temperature around Everest dropped ten degrees. His voice came out tight, frost-edged, one word biting into the air: "Leave."

Annika made it through the night without any pain meds. By dawn, her fever had broken, and against all odds, the baby was fine. Seeing how strong her little one was, she decided to let things unfold as they would.

Her phone buzzed. It was her best friend Rachel, calling.

"Annika, your phone was off forever—I was panicking! Are you okay? Is your husband helping you through this?" Rachel’s voice came, tight with worry.

Annika glanced around her tiny one-bedroom apartment. Everest’s shadow was still everywhere, every little thing twisting her heart up into knots. As they talked, she gathered his toothbrush, his coffee mug, all his shirts and underwear, stuffed them into an old duffel, and tossed the whole thing straight into the trash.

"Rachel, we broke up. I don’t want to talk about him anymore. I want him completely gone from my life."

"What? You spent three years supporting that guy, and he dumps you? Annika, you need to add up every cent you spent on him all that time!" Rachel fumed.

"I did. I owe him half a million dollars."

"What? You wasted three years on him, and *you* owe *him* half a million? What a total scumbag!"

Rachel was on a work break, just calling to check in, and this dropped on her like a bomb. Annika had always kept her husband’s identity secret. Even Rachel, her ride-or-die best friend, only knew she had a man she adored, not what asshole broke her heart.

"Half a million is insane! Normal people don’t have that kind of money laying around. I could literally strangle that jerk. Did he dump you because he cheated?" Rachel’s anger burned hot through the phone; the betrayal stung her like it was her own.

Annika lifted her eyes from her phone, and her heart stopped dead.

Everest Kennedy was leaning in her doorway, all six and a half feet of him, casual and imposing, his ice-cold stare locked dead on her phone.

His deep dark eyes gave nothing away, but the intimidating aura rolling off him screamed don’t come near me.

Rachel fumbled to end the call immediately, already stammering out apologies.

"Mr. Kennedy, I… I didn’t mean to say all that. I’m so sorry."

No one knew why Everest had come back to this old building last night, but his presence had everyone walking on eggshells. Rachel had gotten so caught up raging at Annika’s ex that she’d forgotten herself, let her mouth run too loud.

"Heartless jerk?" Everest repeated. He didn’t even sound angry—there was a faint, amused quirk at the corner of his mouth.

"Sounds like someone worked herself to the bone for a deadbeat boyfriend, then got tossed aside, huh?"

Everest’s thoughts drifted to an evening a while back, when a waitress had muttered the exact same thing about a "worthless boyfriend," teeth clenched so hard they almost cracked.

He remembered her clear as day.

"Wait… Mr. Kennedy, you remember us?" Rachel’s surprise blew into full-blown shock.

Her anger flared right back up thinking about what Annika went through, and she couldn’t stop the words from pouring out.

"My friend wasted three whole years on a leech! She worked herself till she dropped, spent every last dime on him. She couldn’t even afford a five-dollar coffee for herself, but when he asked? She bought him imported cake, got him stupid expensive gifts. And then he had the nerve to cheat on her!"

"And she’s an amazing dancer! He held her back from chasing her dream this whole time!"

Everest’s brow twitched just barely. Rachel’s constant, high-pitched rant was damn irritating. Normally he would have shut her up ten sentences ago, but today? He was weirdly hooked on the story of that stubborn waitress and her useless boyfriend.

"She should be out chasing her dream, not wasting away with a freeloader. What a shameless creep."

Rachel stamped her foot in frustration. "That asshole got off way too easy. Revenge is a dish best served cold. Justice will win out, even if it takes time."

Right that second, Everest’s ear started itching. Like someone somewhere was talking about him.

Just then, Mario walked over.

"Mr. Kennedy, did you sleep well last night?"

Mario asked because he’d noticed Everest had been coming to this old building more and more often—from once or twice a week, to almost every single night now.

Last night, Everest had shown up alone.

Mario wondered if maybe Mr. Kennedy had found some comfort here, with his wife and child, that helped him sleep better.

But the dark circles under Everest’s eyes told a different story.

"Mr. Kennedy, would you like me to call Dr. Marshall to prescribe something to help you sleep?"

A flicker of discomfort crossed over Everest’s sharp, chiseled features.

"The world doesn’t stop turning just because one person’s gone. It’s not an issue."

He turned to Mario, then jerked his chin toward Rachel.

"Give your friend’s number to my assistant. If she needs money and she can dance, we’ve got a spot for her at the rooftop venue. Pay’s way better than waiting tables."

"The rooftop?" Rachel knew exactly what that place was—it was for the elite, the exclusive playground for rich and powerful men, something even wealthy heirs couldn’t just get into. It was all glitz and excess, a world away from anything she’d ever known.

Straight shooter that she was, Rachel held up her hands and shook her head.

"Thanks, Mr. Kennedy, but my friend wouldn’t lower herself to that. If she wanted fame, she would’ve gone into Hollywood years ago. When a famous director tried to take advantage of her? She smashed a bottle over his head. That’s why she’s waiting tables now."

Mario thought Rachel was out of her mind, turning down an offer from Everest Kennedy. Not just anyone gets to dance on that rooftop. Why was Everest even giving this random waitress a shot?

Seeing Everest didn’t look annoyed, Mario patiently explained to Rachel: "The rooftop hires professional dancers, you get paid for your talent. Lead dancers pull in thousands a show."

"Thousands? Per performance?" Rachel’s eyes went wide.

Damn. Poverty really does shrink your world. Standing on her feet all day serving tables barely got her a few hundred. And people make thousands just for dancing?

"My friend really is incredible. I’ve been working part-time waiting tables just to help us get by, that dance job would be perfect, it’s such a waste for her to rot here. If she gets on that rooftop stage and shows everyone what she’s got? Who knows, she’ll catch the eye of someone important, and that deadbeat ex will be green with envy."

Rachel got it instantly, and practically shoved Annika’s number into Mario’s hand.

"Please, Mr. Wallace, help my friend get that spot in the rooftop dance troupe. Thank you so much—seriously."

“Sure thing, Mr. Kennedy,” Mario Wallace replied, scribbling the phone number into his notebook before pulling the office door shut. He made damn sure no one—not even that nosy, relentless Hannah—would burst in and disturb Everest Kennedy.

Everest caught sight of the black garbage bag Mario clutched, jarringly out of place against his perfectly tailored suit. With a dry, sarcastic quip, he joked, “What’s this? A new designer bag made from actual trash? That the hot new trend these days?”

Mario’s face flushed crimson, words tumbling over each other. “Mr. Kennedy, this garbage bag is actually—” He hesitated, clearing his throat. “It’s something I picked up next to the trash bin on our floor. These… these are your things, sir.”

He pulled the bag open to reveal Everest’s toothbrush, toothpaste, casual clothes—shirts, a sweater, a coat, all things Annika Price had bought him. Hell, there were even a few unopened boxes of condoms at the bottom.

Everest’s eyes went dark, his jaw clenching so hard his molars ached. “What the hell is this? Why are all my things in the trash?”

It clicked before Mario could even open his mouth. “She really threw all my stuff out?”

It wasn’t just his belongings she’d tossed. She’d scrubbed him right out of her life. A cold, sharp disdain flickered across Everest’s face. “Fine. She gets what she wants. We’re done. None of this shit matters anymore.”

Mario asked quietly, “Mr. Kennedy, what would you like me to do with all this?”

Everest tossed aside his expensive silk pajama top and pulled a dress shirt on in one smooth motion. Within seconds, he was immaculately dressed, that signature aura of authority and power rolling off him in waves.

“There’s no space in this world for a washed-up Everest Kennedy. Don’t come sniveling to me later if you mess it up.”

The hotel manager stepped in with a lavish spread of breakfast, only to be met with Everest’s sharp, biting criticism. “We host A-list, influential guests here, and this is the best you can do? A chef on a million-dollar salary can’t even cook half as good as my wife?”

Mario muttered under his breath, “Mr. Kennedy’s just being stubborn. Still calls her ‘wife’ even after they split.”

The manager was one wrong move away from tears. How could this go wrong? The chef was a world-renowned talent, poached from one of the most elite restaurants in Europe. The whole team had been prepping since four a.m. the second they heard it was for Mr. Kennedy.

He ventured gently, “Mr. Kennedy, maybe you’re just used to Mrs. Kennedy’s cooking, right? It’s your personal favorite.”

Everest’s spoon hung frozen over his plate, no appetite left at all. His mind drifted unbidden back to the memory of Annika pressing a thermos into his hands every single morning.

*“Everest, drink this while it’s still warm at the office. I added extra chicken and rice to the soup this time—it’s so good.”*

She’d picked out the best chicken from the local market, seasoned it slow, prepped it by hand. It wasn’t cheap, so she’d only bought enough for him.

Everest tried to shake the memory loose, his sharp handsome features clouding over. Why was he even pretending this didn’t get to him?

He told the manager to have the chef make something light on the stomach, reminded his secretary to bug him about taking his medication, and called the doctor in for a new prescription of something to take the edge off. At the end of the day, the world doesn’t stop spinning for anyone.

Break things off with one Annika Price? There were a hundred other women waiting in line. No big deal.

Mario reported in, “Mr. Kennedy, the international corp looking to expand domestically—Mr. Shaw just got back into town and wants to meet tonight to hash it out. They’re dying to lock in a partnership with Kennedy Enterprises.”

Everest glanced indifferently at his dead-silent phone, and tossed off the order casually: “Have Sixth Brother handle it.”

Mario blinked in surprise. Everest, the biggest workaholic this side of the country, was checking out? All because of Annika? Waiting around for her to call and beg to make up? Yeah, that didn’t sound like him.

He worked up the nerve to speak up: “Mr. Kennedy, Annika put her whole life on hold for you for three whole years, and you took such good care of her. How can it end like this? Sometimes a little fight’s just her way of getting you to pay attention. Maybe you should pick up some flowers or a nice gift to cheer her up. Women love that stuff, right?”

Everest didn’t answer. He just flipped his phone face-down on the table, like he was refusing to let it hold any more of his attention.

A couple minutes later, he asked, “What’d she do today?”

“Mrs. Kennedy got dressed up sharp and headed out. Looked like she was going to a job interview.”

Everest’s expression hardened instantly. “Who asked about her? I was asking what Selena’s up to today.”

Mario awkwardly bit his tongue. He knew damn well Everest meant Annika, but he played along anyway. “Miss Selena’s probably still sleeping off her jet lag from the trip, sir.”

“Tell the office to make arrangements,” Everest ordered, heading back toward his private room. He left Mario standing there, scratching his head over the mess.

Arrangements for what? Reschedule the meeting with Mr. Shaw for tonight? Or send Annika a gift to win her back? Oh jeez, Mr. Kennedy is impossible to read right now.

Mario had always prided himself on knowing exactly what Everest wanted, never having to ask clarifying questions. But this? This was pushing him to his limit.

He decided to cover all his bases, prep for both. After all, Everest hadn’t gotten Annika a single proper gift in three whole years. She’d probably be over the moon to get flowers from him.

This wasn’t just some fling that could get brushed off. And of course, that billion-dollar project still needed to be handled too.

Mario didn’t waste any time dialing Annika’s number…

As Everest neared the elevator, his phone rang out of the blue. He paused, turned back toward the room, just in time to hear Mario faking a florist’s voice over the line.

“Hello, Miss Price? This is Rose & Bloom Floral. Mr. Kennedy ordered a gorgeous bouquet for you. Are you available right now? Where would you like us to deliver it?”

Everest hesitated, his hand still hovering over the elevator call button. He leaned back against the doorframe, holding his breath, desperate to hear what Annika would say back.

Mario Wallace froze, completely caught off guard. Annika Price was even more shocked. Annika had always bent over backwards to accommodate everyone before. So why wasn’t Everest Kennedy’s gift enough to win her over this time?

To Mario’s utter surprise, Annika was a totally different woman right now. The second she found out the flowers were from Everest, not a flicker of joy crossed her face. Her refusal was clear-cut, straight to the point, no room left for anyone to misread her.

"Please give these flowers to someone else. I don’t want them here."

Mario was almost too shocked to speak. He’d never expected Annika to react this coldly. Just sending flowers probably wasn’t enough to win her over, he figured. Panicked to smooth things over, he rushed to add, "Annika, there’s an expensive gold necklace in the bouquet—worth over twenty grand. Mr. Kennedy sent it specifically for you."

Even that didn’t shake her. To his disbelief, she stood firm. "Send the necklace back to him. He can sell it. I’d rather put that twenty grand toward the five-hundred-thousand-dollar debt I owe him."

"What? Sell it for twenty grand to pay off a debt? What five-hundred-thousand-dollar debt? I’m sorry, I don’t get it," Mario stammered, completely thrown off by this random debt he’d never heard a word about.

"Annika, this is just Mr. Kennedy showing he cares. Selling it is kind of… too much…" Mario’s words cut off mid-sentence when he heard the cold, sharp beep of the call ending.

Annika’s mind was made up, solid as concrete.

"Finally got sick of tiptoeing around, huh?"

A deep, familiar voice rumbled from the doorway. Mario nearly dropped his phone in shock when Everest Kennedy stepped into view. He stood tall, backlit, his long shadow stretching all the way across the room.

An intimidating aura clung to him, his whole demeanor ice-cold. Mario already regretted making that call so recklessly.

Everest had overheard every word of his conversation with Annika, and he was clearly pissed—Mario couldn’t miss that. He fumbled for an explanation immediately. "Mr. Kennedy, I think she realized the gift wasn’t from you personally, that’s why she turned it down."

Everest’s jaw was set hard as he walked into the room, grabbed his phone off the coffee table, and walked out without another word. As he neared the elevators, he couldn’t help but overhear Hannah gossiping on her call.

"What? You landed a PR spot for that project meeting? If it goes well, there’s a fifty-thousand-dollar bonus? That’s way easier money than dancing at that rooftop club, for sure. You have to take it!"

Everest’s eyes darkened just a shade. He knew these PR gigs weren’t ever the easy walk in the park people pretended they were. Showing up to fancy parties was just the start—things got way messier, way higher-stakes than that. No smart businessman would drop fifty grand just for some girl to sit in on a project discussion, not when the whole thing smelled this fishy.

Everest didn’t stick his nose in any further and stepped onto the elevator. His mind drifted back to Annika—so dead-set on clawing her way out of her money problems, maybe even out of this whole dead-end life of hers, by any means necessary.

But Annika had already taken the job. She’d expected stuffy conference rooms and formal project proposals, not… this. The second she stepped into the private suite with Hugo Jameson, she already regretted saying yes.

Inside, a handful of men lounged around without a care, the same sick, sleazy debauchery she’d seen before playing out right in front of her. Some were canoodling with their dates, feeding each other grapes mouth-to-mouth. Others were doing even more vulgar things.

They were predators, nothing more, nothing less.

They pretended not to know who she was, and loud, leering whistles rang out.

"Whoa, fresh meat! C’mere closer so we can get a good look," one of them teased.

"Hugo’s new PR girl really is something, huh? Even dressed that frumpy, she’s easy on the eyes," another chimed in.

"C’mon, lose the jacket! Don’t be a party pooper!" they jeered.

One guy snuck a photo of Annika and dropped it into their group chat—their little digital hangout for gossip and dirty schemes—making sure to tag Everest and Selena.

[Mr. Kennedy, you’re not gonna believe this. The prey walked right into our trap. Annika showed up with Hugo tonight. Time to have some fun!]

[Showtime, baby. Once we’ve had our fill, our hero can come swooping in to save the day. Classic move.]

[Our guy’s got all the charm in the world. He’ll pretend he fell head over heels the second he saw her, get her hooked good, then dump her like last week’s trash. Never fails, right?]

[Mr. Kennedy, Selena—y’all aren’t gonna join us to get payback for our girl Selena?]

Selena typed back instantly: [I’m in! Wait up, guys!]

Annika’s dignity was just waiting to be trampled into the dirt, bruised and broken for their sick, malicious entertainment. Fearing Everest might step in and ruin their plan, Selena added a sneaky little line, tagging him again:

[Brother, I know you’re swamped with work. If it’s okay with you, I’ll just let my team handle this. Promise we won’t cross any lines.]