Lacey screamed. She scrambled backward against the headboard, pulling the white duvet up to her chin. Her eyes were wide with sheer terror.

Johan scrambled to his knees. His face drained of all color. His mouth opened and closed like a dying fish.

"Gab... Gabrielle?" Johan stammered. "What are you doing here?"

Gabrielle did not look at him. She kept her eyes locked on Lacey. Lacey shrank back, trying to make herself as small as possible behind Johan's shoulder.

"Me?" Gabrielle asked, her voice flat and devoid of any emotion. "I came to give you your birthday surprise. Are you surprised?"

She looked down at her own body, clad only in the sheer black lace. A bitter, mocking smile touched the corners of her lips.

Johan's panic shifted into defense mode. He reached out a hand toward her.

"Baby, listen to me," Johan said, his voice cracking. "It's not what it looks like. She came onto me. I told her to leave!"

He threw Lacey under the bus without a second thought. Lacey gasped, her face turning a sickly shade of gray.

Gabrielle tilted her head. She looked at Johan as if he were a stain on the rug.

"Is that right?" Gabrielle asked. "Did she also force you to say I was 'safe'? And 'ordinary'? Did she force you to say I look like an assistant?"

She repeated his exact words. Each syllable hit Johan like a physical slap to the face.

Johan flinched. He realized she had heard everything. Every single word.

He changed his tactic. He tried to look pathetic. He swung his legs over the side of the bed, ignoring his nakedness.

"Gabby, I'm so sorry," he pleaded. "I messed up. I was just stressed about the new movie. You know how I get."

Gabrielle stared at him. "Roll over and die, Johan."

She turned her back to him. She walked over to the armchair and picked up her gray skirt. She stepped into it and zipped it up. She pulled her stiff white button-down shirt over her arms and buttoned it to the collar.

As the familiar, rigid fabric settled against her skin, a profound shift occurred in her mind. For five years, she had smoothed out all her edges for this man. She had made herself invisible, swallowing her own ambition to be his stepping stone, only to be branded as 'safe' and 'ordinary'-a disposable convenience. The agonizing sorrow in her chest rapidly calcified into something cold, sharp, and unbreakable. From this moment on, she was done playing the martyr. She was going back to being Gabrielle Webb, fighting solely for herself.

She was putting her armor back on.

She picked up the heavy black glasses from the dresser and slid them onto her face. The beautiful, vulnerable woman from a moment ago vanished. The ruthless agent returned.

Johan watched her dress. The cold efficiency of her movements terrified him more than screaming would have. He had never seen her like this.

"No, wait," Johan said. He stood up and took a step toward her. "You can't just leave. We're not breaking up over this."

He reached out to grab her arm.

Gabrielle sidestepped him effortlessly. "Don't touch me."

She looked him dead in the eye.

"Johan Lee, as of this exact second, I am no longer your girlfriend," Gabrielle said.

She picked up her tote bag and slung it over her shoulder.

"And I am officially resigning as your lead agent. My lawyer will send the termination papers to your production company tomorrow morning."

Johan stopped breathing. The loss of his girlfriend was an inconvenience. The loss of his agent was a career death sentence. Gabrielle was the only reason he got the audition for his last movie.

"No!" Johan yelled, his voice shrill. "You can't do this to me! After everything we've been through!"

"Everything we've been through?" Gabrielle asked. "You're a joke."

She pulled her phone out of her pocket. She opened the video file and held the screen up to his face.

"An hour ago, TMZ contacted me," Gabrielle said. "They wanted half a million dollars for this. What do you think will happen if I just email it to them for free?"

Johan stared at the screen. He saw himself pushing Lacey against the concrete wall of the hotel parking garage. His pupils dilated in pure horror.

His career flashed before his eyes. The family-friendly brand deals. The upcoming press tour. All gone.

"Gabby, please," Johan begged, his voice broke into a pathetic whine. "Please don't do this."

Gabrielle lowered the phone and slipped it back into her pocket.

"Stay away from me," Gabrielle said. "If you ever try to contact me again, your name will be printed next to the words 'serial cheater' on every newsstand in America by sunrise."

Johan's arms fell limply to his sides. He knew she meant it.

Gabrielle turned around and walked out of the bedroom. She did not look back.

The heavy glass doors of the apartment building shut behind Gabrielle.

The November wind whipped down the Manhattan street, biting through her thin blazer. The cold hit her all at once.

The adrenaline that had kept her spine straight and her voice steady in the bedroom evaporated in the instant she stepped outside. Replacing it was a crushing weight of exhaustion that settled onto her shoulders like concrete.

Her body began shaking uncontrollably.

Gabrielle walked a few steps mechanically. She had no idea where she was going. Her mind was blank except for those words—she's so plain, she's so safe, she never steals the spotlight—echoing inside her skull, pounding against her temples with every heartbeat.

She hadn't eaten in over twelve hours. From handling Johan's schedule at seven in the morning, to soothing his investors in the afternoon, to preparing his surprise at night—all she'd consumed was a single cup of cold coffee in the car. Her stomach churned with a burning, acidic sensation, the kind that came from mixing hunger with emotional devastation.

Her steps began to falter.

Reaching the corner, she stopped instinctively and bent over, bracing her hands on her knees, gasping for air. The streetlight in front of her wavered in her vision for a moment, then steadied. She blinked hard, telling herself she was just tired.

She needed to call a car. Go home. Sleep.

Her trembling hand reached into her pocket for her phone. But her fingers had stopped obeying—not just from the cold, but from the post-trauma physical crash. Three times in a row, she failed to grasp the smooth metal edge.

Inside the car, Colvin Sykes stared at the monitor built into the back of the passenger seat. The screen showed a live feed from the dashcam. He watched Gabrielle's shoulders shake as she walked. His chest tightened so hard it restricted his breathing.

Alex Rivers sat in the front passenger seat. He stared straight ahead, not daring to make a sound. The temperature in the car felt like it had dropped below freezing.

"Find everything there is to know about Lacey Morrow," Colvin said. His voice was a lethal, quiet blade. "I want her off every casting list in this city. I do not want to see her name in print ever again."

"Yes, sir," Alex said immediately.

Colvin kept his eyes on the screen. His jaw ticked. He wanted to tear Johan Lee apart with his bare hands.

On the street, Gabrielle bent down to pick up her phone. Her vision swam. She did not see the wide crack in the pavement.

She took a step forward. The heel of her shoe wedged deep into the concrete fissure.

Her ankle twisted sharply. Her balance vanished.

"Ah—"

She threw her hands out instinctively to break the fall, but her arms felt like they belonged to someone else. The streetlights spun wildly. A loud rush filled her ears.

This is it, she thought. I'm going to hit the concrete.

But in the split second before darkness claimed her completely, she felt it—two powerful arms wrapping around her waist, pulling her against a solid chest. As her cheek brushed against soft cashmere and the scent of cedar filled her senses, her heavy eyelids fluttered just long enough to glimpse the sharp, rigid line of a man's jaw above her.

Colvin stared down at the woman in his arms. Her face was pale and completely devoid of life. Her head rolled against his shoulder.

His heart slammed against his ribs. He scooped her up, lifting her off the ground entirely. She weighed nothing.

"I have you, Gabby," Colvin whispered into her hair. His voice was thick with an emotion he had buried for years. "I am never letting you go again."

Alex already had the back door of the Maybach open. Colvin slid into the spacious backseat, keeping Gabrielle cradled tightly against his chest.

The heavy door slammed shut. The Maybach pulled away from the curb smoothly.

"Drive to the private wing at Grace Hospital," Colvin ordered the driver.

He shrugged off his suit jacket with one hand. He draped the heavy, warm fabric over Gabrielle's shivering body, tucking it around her shoulders.

He looked down at her sleeping face. The heavy glasses were slightly askew. He gently pulled them off her face and set them on the seat.

He reached out and brushed a stray curl away from her forehead. His fingers lingered against her cold skin. The ruthless predator of Wall Street was gone, replaced by a man who looked like he was holding his entire world.

The darkness was heavy and suffocating.

Gabrielle felt like she was falling down a bottomless concrete shaft. The wind roared in her ears. The memory of the street rushing up to meet her face played on a loop in her mind.

Just as the panic threatened to crush her chest, a warm light pierced the blackness.

A voice spoke. It was low, rough, and incredibly gentle. It sounded like it was coming from a different lifetime.

"I am sorry I was late," the man's voice said.

The sound vibrated against her skin. It was filled with a raw, bleeding agony.

In the dream, a large, calloused hand wrapped around her freezing fingers. The heat from his palm seeped into her bones, chasing away the chill of Johan's apartment.

"I should have been there sooner," the voice continued, breaking slightly under the weight of a profound, unspoken grief. "I promise you, I will not lose you again."

The words washed over her like a sedative. The falling sensation stopped. She felt safe.

A warm, damp cloth gently wiped the dried tears from her cheeks. The touch was so reverent it made her chest ache.

"Gabby, do not be afraid," the voice whispered, right next to her ear. "I am here. No one will ever hurt you again."

In the physical world, Colvin sat in the leather chair beside the hospital bed. He held Gabrielle's limp hand in both of his. He pressed his forehead against her knuckles.

The words he had just spoken were the confession he had choked down for five years.

He knew she was unconscious. He knew she could not hear him. This was his penance.

The heavy wooden door of the VIP suite clicked open. Nurse Chloe Baxter stepped into the room. She saw the billionaire holding the unconscious woman's hand and immediately stopped in her tracks. She kept her eyes glued to her clipboard.

Colvin lifted his head. The raw vulnerability vanished from his face in a fraction of a second. His blue eyes turned back to ice.

He gently placed Gabrielle's hand back on the mattress. He stood up and walked over to the nurse.

"When she wakes up, you will not mention my name," Colvin said. His tone left no room for negotiation. "You will tell her a good Samaritan delivery driver found her and brought her in."

Chloe blinked, confused, but she nodded quickly. "Understood, Mr. Sykes."

Colvin turned and looked at Gabrielle one last time. He needed to leave before she opened her eyes. He could not let her see him. Not yet.

He walked out of the room, the door clicking shut behind him.

Hours later, the morning sun sliced through the blinds and hit the foot of the bed.

Gabrielle's eyelashes fluttered. She groaned softly as a dull ache throbbed behind her temples. She forced her eyes open.

The ceiling was bright white. The faint smell of antiseptic stung her nose.

She tried to sit up and realized she was wearing a soft cotton hospital gown. The scratchy gray suit was gone.

Panic flared in her chest. She remembered the street. She remembered falling.

And then she remembered the smell of cedar and the sharp jawline. She remembered the voice in her dream talking about a library.

She rubbed her forehead. It was just a hallucination. Her brain was misfiring from stress.

The door pushed open. Nurse Chloe walked in with a warm smile.

"Ms. Webb, you are awake," Chloe said. "How are you feeling?"

Gabrielle pushed herself up against the pillows. Her muscles felt weak.

"Why am I here?" Gabrielle asked.

"You collapsed on the street last night," Chloe explained, checking the monitor. "The doctor said it was extreme exhaustion and severe malnutrition. Your body just shut down."

Gabrielle swallowed hard. Her throat was dry.

"Who brought me here?" Gabrielle asked.