Ethan turns down a narrow, empty alleyway adjacent to City Hall.

A black, armored Maybach 62S sits idling in the shadows. The rear door swings open. His executive assistant, K. Jennings, stands at attention.

Jennings takes the unbranded suit jacket Ethan strips off and tosses it directly into a nearby dumpster.

Ethan slides into the plush leather backseat of the Maybach. He loosens his tie, rolling his shoulders. The suffocating disguise of a middle-class worker falls away, replaced by the terrifying aura of the man who controls the Patterson Empire.

He pulls the marriage license from his pocket. He snaps a high-resolution photo with his phone and sends it to a contact labeled Eleanor.

Ten seconds later, the phone rings.

"You actually did it!" Eleanor's voice crackles through the speaker, breathless with laughter. "The heir to the Patterson fortune, married in a dingy City Hall!"

Ethan rubs his temples. "It's a piece of paper, Grandmother. It buys you peace of mind for your surgery. I am annulling it tomorrow."

"We'll see about that," Eleanor hums. "Bring the future Mrs. Patterson to the New York estate. I want to meet her."

"Goodbye, Grandmother." Ethan hangs up. He tosses the phone onto the seat. He looks at Jennings in the rearview mirror. "Run a full background check on Grace Glover. I want everything."

The subway ride to the Old City district takes forty minutes.

I walk down the cobblestone street toward Blooming Grace, the small flower shop I pour my soul into. I live in the tiny attic above it. It's my only safe haven.

I pull my keys from my bag. Before I can insert them into the lock, a screech of tires makes me jump.

A beat-up truck slams to a halt by the curb. Doris jumps out. Two massive men follow her-distant cousins from the Vaughan side of the family.

Doris kicks the glass door of the shop. It rattles violently.

"You little runaway whore!" Doris screams, pointing a thick finger at my face.

I back up quickly, retreating behind the wooden cash register counter. My hand drops below the counter, my fingers wrapping tightly around the cold metal handle of my heavy gardening shears.

Doris storms inside, her eyes darting to my hands. She sees the plastic ring.

"Where is Clarnce's ring?" she demands, her face turning purple. "He gave me twenty thousand dollars for you! You give me that money right now, or you're coming with us!"

"I don't have his money," I say, my voice shaking but my grip on the shears tightening. "And you can't force me to go anywhere. I'm married."

Doris pauses. Then, she throws her head back and barks out a harsh laugh. "Married? You expect me to believe that?"

I reach into my bag with my left hand. I pull out the marriage license and slam it onto the counter. The gold seal catches the light.

Doris stares at the paper. She reads the names. Her face drains of color, then flushes with a rage so intense she looks demonic. The realization that her twenty-thousand-dollar payday is gone snaps the last thread of her sanity.

"Smash it," Doris snarls.

She grabs a heavy ceramic pot holding a rare orchid and hurls it at the floor.

The ceramic shatters. Dirt explodes across the hardwood.

"No!" I scream, lunging forward.

One of the cousins shoves me hard in the chest. I stumble backward, crashing into a display shelf.

The two men tear through the shop. They flip tables. They stomp on the delicate roses I spent weeks cultivating. Glass vases explode against the walls. Water and crushed petals cover the floor in a slippery, tragic mess.

I scramble to the corner, throwing my body over a tray of succulents that belong to my sister, Eloise. A falling glass vase clips my hand.

A sharp pain slices across the back of my hand. Warm blood instantly wells up, dripping onto the green leaves of the succulents. I bite my lip so hard I taste copper. Tears of pure hatred blur my vision.

Outside, Greta, the owner of the convenience store next door, peers through the window. Her eyes go wide. She immediately pulls out her phone and dials 911. The two men are massive, their menacing postures silencing the few onlookers who had started to gather at the door, making it clear no one is to interfere.

Doris grabs a handful of my hair, yanking my head back.

"You call that bastard you married," Doris spits in my face. "You tell him he owes me twenty grand, or I will burn this place to the ground with you in it."

The wail of police sirens pierces the air. Red and blue lights flash against the broken glass of my shop.

Two patrol cars screech to a halt outside the shattered storefront. Four officers, body cameras blinking red, pour out of the vehicles.

Lead Detective Gale Henderson draws his baton. "Philadelphia Police! Everyone freeze and put your hands where I can see them!"

The two Vaughan cousins drop the broken shelves and immediately drop to their knees, lacing their fingers behind their heads.

Doris lets go of my hair. Her face transforms instantly. She forces tears into her eyes and throws herself toward Gale.

"Officer! Thank god you're here!" Doris wails, grabbing Gale's uniform sleeve. "My daughter is out of control! She attacked me!"

Gale steps back, peeling her hands off his uniform with a look of utter disgust. His sharp eyes scan the devastation of the flower shop. He takes in the overturned tables, the crushed flowers, and the shattered glass.

Then, his eyes land on me.

I am huddled in the corner, clutching the succulents. Blood is streaming down the back of my hand, soaking into the sleeve of my cheap sweater.

Gale's expression softens. He gestures for his officers to secure Doris and the men. He walks over to me, crouching down to my level.

"Ma'am, do you need an ambulance?" Gale asks gently.

I shake my head. I grab a wad of paper towels from the counter and press it hard against my bleeding hand. The sting makes me wince.

"No," I say, my voice surprisingly steady. "I want to press charges. Destruction of property, trespassing, and assault."

Doris screams from across the room. "It's a family dispute! I'm her mother! I can do whatever I want to her property!"

"It's my property," I say coldly. "And she is not my family anymore. I am married."

My good hand reaches into my bag. I pull out the crumpled marriage license and hand it to the detective.

Gale takes the paper. He scans it, a routine procedure. His eyes drift to the 'Husband' section.

Gale stops breathing.

His pupils dilate. He stares at the name. Ethan Patterson. He stares at the signature. The aggressive, sharp strokes of the pen.

Gale's brain short-circuits. He knows that signature. He lived in the same dorm room as that signature for four years at Columbia University. That is the signature of the most ruthless billionaire in New York.

Gale slowly raises his head. He looks at me. He takes in my bloodstained sweater, my pale face, and the cheap plastic ring on my finger.

The richest man in America married this girl? Today?

Gale clears his throat, fighting to keep his face neutral. He hands the paper back to me with a newfound, profound respect. "Understood, Mrs. Patterson."

Gale turns on his heel. He walks out of the shop, stepping behind the patrol car, completely out of my line of sight.

He pulls out his personal cell phone and dials a number that only five people in the world have.

Ethan picks up on the second ring. "What."

"Are you out of your mind?" Gale hisses, keeping his voice low.

In the back of the Maybach, Ethan frowns. "What are you talking about, Henderson?"

Gale lets out a breathless laugh. "I'm standing in a destroyed flower shop in Old City. Your new little wife is bleeding from the hand, and her mother just tried to extort her. Did you really get married?"

Silence. Dead, heavy silence on the other end of the line.

Then, the sound of a leather portfolio being slammed shut.

"Address," Ethan says. His voice is a weapon.

Gale gives him the address and hangs up. He walks back into the shop. "Cuff the mother," he orders his officers.

Doris realizes he is serious. She throws herself onto the floor, kicking and screaming like a toddler. "You can't arrest me! I know my rights!"

As the officers struggle to lift her, the sound of tires grinding against the curb echoes through the open door.

The sleek, black Maybach screeches to a halt.

The rear door flies open. Ethan steps out. The air around him seems to drop ten degrees. His face is a mask of pure, unadulterated fury.

I look up. When I see his tall, broad frame stride past the police tape, the wall I've built around my emotions cracks. My throat tightens.

Ethan ignores the police. He ignores Doris. He walks straight to me.

His dark eyes lock onto the blood soaking through the paper towels on my hand. The muscle in his jaw flexes so hard it looks like it might snap.

Ethan reaches out. His long, elegant fingers gently wrap around my wrist. The contrast between his dark, furious eyes and the extreme gentleness of his touch makes my breath hitch.

He pulls a pure silk handkerchief from his pocket. Without a word, he peels away the bloody paper towels and wraps the silk tightly around my wound.

The warmth of his hands seeps into my freezing skin. My heart performs a strange, rapid flutter.

"Thank you," I whisper. "I'm fine."

Doris stops thrashing against the officers. She stares at Ethan. Her eyes rake over his unbranded suit and the cheap Ford parked outside. Her upper lip curls into a sneer.

"So this is the bastard," Doris spits, ripping her arm away from the cop. She marches right up to us. "You slept with my daughter," Doris snarls, pointing a finger at his chest. She sizes him up. He looks clean, and his suit, while plain, is impeccably fitted. He has to have more money than that loser Clarnce. "That means you owe me. I want one hundred thousand dollars for family compensation," she declares, deciding to aim high. "Right now. Or I'll make sure this shop is in ashes tomorrow."

By the door, Gale rolls his eyes so hard it hurts. He bites the inside of his cheek to stop himself from laughing. She's extorting Ethan Patterson for a hundred grand. She has no idea she is standing in front of a man who could buy this entire city block and bulldoze it for fun.

Ethan finally turns his head. He looks at Doris. It is the look of an apex predator staring at a dying insect. A cruel, terrifying smirk plays on his lips.

He opens his mouth. I know that look. It's the look of a man about to do something drastic.

Before he can speak, I step sideways.

I plant my feet firmly on the floor, throwing my arms out, placing my small body entirely in front of Ethan. I shield him from my mother.

Ethan freezes. His breath catches in his throat.

For thirty years, he has been the shield. He has been the weapon. No one-absolutely no one-has ever stepped in front of him to protect him.

"Don't you dare bully him!" I yell at Doris, my voice echoing in the ruined shop. "My marriage is my business. You aren't getting a single cent from him!"

Doris's face contorts with rage. She raises her hand, aiming a vicious slap right at my face.

Ethan's eyes go black. He shifts his weight, ready to grab her wrist and snap it in half.

But I anticipate the strike. I duck, letting her hand swing through empty air.

I know my mother. I know the only thing she cares about is money. If she thinks Ethan has money, she will never stop hunting him.

I stand up straight, looking Doris dead in the eye. I lie through my teeth.

"He doesn't have any money!" I scream. "He's bankrupt! His trust fund is locked until he's sixty, and he has fifty thousand dollars in credit card debt! He's broke!"

Behind me, Ethan's chest brushes against my back. I feel him stiffen. He lets out a sound that is half-cough, half-choke.

By the door, Gale spins around, facing the street. His shoulders are shaking violently. He is suffocating himself to keep from bursting into hysterical laughter.

Doris stops. The word bankrupt hits her like a physical blow. The color drains from her face.

"Bankrupt?" she whispers, her eyes darting to the cheap Ford outside.

"Yes!" I lie, my voice full of fake despair. "I have to pay for his meals! If you take him on, you take on his debt!"

Doris looks at Ethan like he is covered in a contagious disease. She takes three rapid steps backward.

"You stupid, blind idiot," Doris shrieks at me. "You married a useless loser! Don't you dare bring his debts to my door!"

She turns to the cousins. "We're leaving! This is bad luck!"

Doris tries to push past the police to the door. Gale steps in her way, his face instantly turning to stone.

"Not so fast," Gale says coldly. "You're under arrest for felony destruction of property."

The officers grab Doris. She screams, kicking her legs, howling curses at me as they drag her out of the shop and shove her into the back of the cruiser.

The sirens wail as the police cars drive away, leaving the street eerily quiet.

I stand in the middle of the wreckage, my chest heaving.

I turn around to face Ethan. He is looking down at me. The coldness in his eyes is gone, replaced by a strange, dark amusement that makes my stomach do a nervous flip.