Dane's warning hung in the dead silence of the living room. The icy malice in his voice made the air feel too thick to breathe.

Josephus's fingers went numb. He dropped the golf club.

The heavy club hit the hardwood floor with a ringing clatter. Kathleen and Kailee flinched violently, pulling their knees to their chests in the corner.

Dane tightened his arm around Cassie's waist. The pressure was almost painful. Through the fabric of his suit, Cassie could feel a faint tremor running through his hard muscles. He was violently angry.

Adrian stepped forward, his face expressionless. He held a thick black leather folder.

He walked up to Josephus and slammed the folder into the older man's chest.

Josephus gasped, fumbling to catch it. He flipped it open with shaking fingers. His eyes darted over the bold legal text. The absolute transfer of Cassie's trust fund.

All the blood drained from Josephus's face. His lips turned pale blue.

"Sign it," Adrian commanded, voice sharp and mechanical. "If you refuse, Gilmore Enterprises will be forced into bankruptcy liquidation in exactly ten minutes."

Josephus's knees wobbled. He looked like he was going to vomit.

Kathleen scrambled up from the floor. She plastered a desperate, ugly smile on her face and took a step toward Dane.

"Mr. Frederick, please, this is just a family misunderstanding—"

Dane's gaze snapped to her, cold and utterly dismissive, as if looking at something insignificant. The unspoken contempt in his eyes made Kathleen's practiced smile stiffen. The desperate words died on her lips.

Two bodyguards immediately stepped forward. They grabbed Kathleen by the shoulders and shoved her roughly backward. She crashed hard onto the sofa. Kailee let out a muffled squeak of terror and covered her mouth with both hands, tears streaming down her bruised face.

Josephus pulled a gold fountain pen from his breast pocket. His hand shook so badly he could barely remove the cap. He pressed the nib to the paper and scribbled his signature. A single tear of pure humiliation leaked from his eye and dropped onto the leather folder.

Adrian snatched the folder back. He checked the signature, snapped the folder shut, and gave Dane a single nod.

Cassie watched from the safety of Dane's chest. Dark, heavy satisfaction settled in her stomach.

Dane looked down at Cassie. His eyes rapidly scanned her body, checking for injuries. His gaze stopped at the hem of her dress. The fabric was torn, and bleeding scratches marred her calves from the shattered glass.

The violent aura radiating from Dane exploded.

"Who touched her?" Dane's voice was a low growl. The pressure in the room became physically unbearable.

Josephus's legs gave out. He collapsed onto his knees, hands pressing into the broken glass on the floor.

"I'm sorry! I'm sorry! Please!" Josephus begged, pressing his forehead toward the floor, abandoning all dignity.

Cassie stared down at the man who had tormented her for years. She felt nothing.

Dane lifted his leg and kicked the heavy leather armchair in front of him.

The massive chair flew backward and smashed into the wall with a deafening crash. Kailee screamed again, burying her face in her mother's chest.

"Gilmore Enterprises is blacklisted," Dane announced to the room. His voice was cold and final. "You are finished."

Josephus let out a pathetic wail and slumped entirely onto the floor, a broken man.

Dane didn't look at them again. He shifted his grip, sliding his hand down Cassie's arm until his long fingers intertwined tightly with hers.

He turned and pulled her toward the ruined front door. The crushing grip of his hand sent a wave of absolute security straight through her.

As they reached the doorway, Dane stopped. He didn't turn around.

"If any of you ever come near my wife again, I will bury you."

Cassie let him pull her out of the house. The bright morning sunlight hit her face, warming her cold skin. She glanced back one last time at the shattered, pathetic remains of the Gilmore family.

The bodyguards filed out behind them, leaving the house in dead silence.

A massive black armored Maybach idled at the bottom of the stone steps. The driver pulled the heavy rear door open and bowed his head.

Dane placed his hand firmly on the top of Cassie's head, shielding her as she ducked into the dark cabin. The soft leather seat embraced her aching body.

Dane slid in beside her. The heavy door slammed shut, cutting off the outside world.

The engine rumbled. The Maybach pulled away from the curb, leaving the Long Island estate behind.

Cassie turned her head. Dane leaned back against the seat, eyes closed. He reached up and yanked his silk tie loose. The muscles in his jaw were tight, his chest rising and falling in heavy, uneven breaths. The violent energy from the house still clung to him.

Cassie realized he was struggling to suppress something.

"Thank you," Cassie said softly.

Dane's eyes snapped open. His dark gaze locked onto her face.

He let out a harsh scoff. "What is mine, no one else touches."

The raw possessiveness in his words sent a strange, hot flutter through Cassie's stomach.

She reached into her handbag and pulled out a wet wipe. She looked down at her hands, carefully wiping the dust and faint streaks of blood from her knuckles.

Dane didn't look away. His eyes tracked every tiny movement of her fingers.

The Maybach merged onto the highway. Trees blurred into a continuous green line outside.

Cassie tossed the dirty wipe into the small silver trash compartment. She took a deep breath and turned her body to face him.

It was time to test the limits of this protection.

"I need to tell you something," Cassie said, her voice steady. "I am not the real Cassie Gilmore. I am a substitute. A fake."

She stopped talking. She sat perfectly still, waiting for the explosion.

The air inside the Maybach turned to solid ice.

The silence inside the Maybach was absolute. Cassie could hear the blood rushing in her own ears.

She gripped the fabric of her torn dress, knuckles turning white. She braced for Dane to yell, to order the driver to pull over, to throw her out onto the highway.

Dane didn't move. He sat perfectly still against the leather seat. His dark eyes remained locked on her face, completely devoid of surprise or anger.

"And?" Dane asked. His voice was flat, carrying no inflection.

Cassie's eyes went wide. The single word shattered her defenses.

"And?" Cassie repeated, her voice rising. "I am a fraud. I am a stranger with a ruined face. They tricked you." She pointed aggressively at her scarred cheek, trying to force a reaction.

Dane's jaw clenched. He leaned forward.

His massive frame closed the distance in a second. The physical pressure of his body forced Cassie to press her back hard against the car door.

He reached out. His long, calloused fingers clamped firmly around her jaw. He tilted her head up, forcing her to look directly into his eyes.

Their faces were inches apart. She could feel the heat of his breath on her lips.

His thumb moved. The rough pad slowly traced the jagged edge of her fake scar. The friction sent a sharp thrill straight down her spine. Her heart hammered against her ribs.

"Are you sure you don't remember?" Dane asked. His voice was a low, dangerous whisper. His eyes bored into hers, searching frantically for something.

Cassie stared back, her brow furrowing. She searched her memory, trying to find any connection to this terrifying billionaire.

Nothing. Completely blank.

"Remember what?" Cassie whispered, her voice trembling.

Dane stared at the pure confusion in her eyes.

A heavy, dark shadow of disappointment crashed over his features. The intense fire in his eyes died instantly. The muscles in his jaw ticked.

His fingers loosened their grip on her jaw. He pulled his hand back and retreated to his side of the car. He turned his head, staring out the tinted window. His sharp profile looked carved from ice.

Cassie rubbed her jaw where his fingers had pressed. The skin felt hot.

"If you want to cancel the marriage, we can sign the divorce papers today," Cassie said, testing the waters.

Dane's head snapped back around.

His eyes were feral. The suppressed violence in his posture exploded back to the surface.

"Never say that word to me again," Dane snarled. The sheer aggression in his voice made Cassie shrink back against the door.

"As long as you have that birthmark on your neck, you are my wife," he declared, leaving absolutely no room for debate.

Cassie swallowed hard. Her mind spun with questions, but the suffocating aura radiating from him forced her to keep her mouth shut.

The Maybach exited the highway and plunged into the chaotic traffic of Manhattan. Neon lights from storefronts reflected off the tinted windows, casting harsh, moving shadows across Dane's face. Neither of them spoke.

The car finally pulled through the massive iron gates of Frederick Manor and glided to a stop in front of the main fountain.

The driver opened Dane's door.

Dane stepped out. He didn't wait for her. He didn't look back. He shoved his hands into his pockets and walked up the front steps with long, aggressive strides.

Cassie climbed out. The cool evening wind whipped her torn dress around her legs. She watched his broad back disappear through the front doors.

She walked into the brightly lit foyer. Bradshaw stepped forward to take her coat, but she waved him off.

She looked down the long hallway. The heavy mahogany door to Dane's study was slightly ajar.

Cassie stood in the foyer for a long moment. Her heels clicked sharply against the hardwood as she made her decision and walked toward the study.

She pushed the heavy door open.

The rich scent of cedar, old paper, and expensive tobacco filled her lungs. Dane stood by the floor-to-ceiling window, his back to her.

He held a crystal glass of whiskey. He took a slow sip, not turning around.

"Why?" Cassie asked, her voice cutting through the quiet room. "Why are you so obsessed with a stranger?"

Dane slowly lowered the glass.

He turned around. The dim light from the desk lamp cast deep shadows across his face, making his expression impossible to read.

He walked to the massive oak desk, placed both hands flat on the polished wood, and leaned forward, his eyes locking onto hers.

"I can destroy the Gilmore family completely," Dane said, his voice smooth and laced with dark temptation. "I can give you everything."

Cassie's breath hitched. Her eyes widened.

"But," Dane continued, his eyes narrowing, "you have to remember where we met. On your own."

Cassie's eyebrows pulled together. A sharp ache throbbed behind her temples. The condition was impossible.

Before she could open her mouth to argue, a violent buzzing erupted from her handbag.

The sudden noise shattered the heavy tension.

Cassie pulled her phone out. The screen lit up the dim space.

The name "Jamey" flashed across the screen.

A cold, vicious wave of hatred washed over Cassie. Her grip on the phone tightened until her knuckles ached. Her eyes turned to absolute ice.

The harsh blue light from the phone screen illuminated Cassie's cold eyes. The name "Jamey" pulsed on the screen.

Her thumb slammed down on the red reject button. The buzzing stopped.

A second later, the phone chimed. A text message popped up.

Meet me at the Rockefeller Center Hotel. Top floor banquet hall. Tonight.

A dark, humorless laugh ripped from Cassie's throat.

She lifted her head and looked straight at Dane. She turned the phone around, holding the glowing screen up so he could read the message clearly. She didn't try to hide anything.

Dane's eyes scanned the text.

The crystal glass in his hand creaked under the sudden, crushing pressure of his grip. The air in the study grew heavy with suffocating hostility. Dane's eyes turned pitch black.

"You are going to see your ex-lover?" Dane asked. His voice was dangerously low, vibrating with raw, possessive fury.

Cassie nodded, her expression flat.

"It's the perfect opportunity to cut the rot out completely." Her eyes burned with cold, calculated need for revenge.

Dane stared at her for a long moment. The muscle in his jaw feathered.

"I need a car. And I need your bodyguards," Cassie demanded. She didn't ask.

The corner of Dane's mouth curled into a sharp, lethal smirk.

He reached across the desk and slammed his finger down on the intercom button.

"Adrian," Dane barked into the speaker. "Prepare a motorcade. Give her whatever she wants. And have our surveillance team monitor every camera at the hotel. If there is even a hint of a threat, notify me immediately."

Cassie's heart gave a hard thump against her ribs. The unquestioning support caught her off guard.

Dane released the button and looked back at her.

"If you are not back by midnight, I will come drag you out myself." The threat was heavy and entirely serious.

Cassie gave a sharp nod.

She turned on her heel and marched out of the study. Her heels struck the hardwood with a rapid, militant rhythm. Dane's gaze burned into her back until the door clicked shut.

Cassie walked straight down to the underground garage.

The massive space was lined with millions of dollars worth of exotic cars. She ignored them all and walked toward a sleek black Porsche Panamera.

Adrian stepped out from the shadows. He handed her the heavy key fob and pointed toward two massive black Range Rovers parked near the exit. Four men in black tactical suits stood beside them.

Cassie snatched the keys. "Follow me."

She pulled the Porsche door open and dropped into the low driver's seat. She hit the ignition. The engine roared to life, bouncing off the concrete walls.

Cassie slammed her foot on the gas. The Porsche shot out of the garage.

The two Range Rovers fell into line behind her, forming a dark, intimidating convoy as they sped toward the heart of Manhattan.

City lights blurred past the windshield. Cassie gripped the leather steering wheel, knuckles white. Her mind raced, calculating exactly how she was going to tear Jamey's ego to shreds.

The convoy pulled up to the grand entrance of the Rockefeller Center Hotel.

Cassie threw the car into park and tossed the keys to the stunned valet. She stepped out, her torn dress blowing in the wind. The bodyguards immediately flanked her, radiating violence.

She walked through the revolving glass doors. The opulent gold and marble lobby felt suffocating.

The lobby manager took one look at the heavily armed men behind her and rushed over, using his master key card to call the VIP elevator.

Cassie stepped in. The doors slid shut. The rapid ascent made her stomach drop.

The doors dinged open on the top floor.

The soft sounds of a string quartet and loud chatter spilled into the hallway.

Cassie walked down the plush carpeted corridor and stopped in front of the massive double doors leading into the banquet hall.

A huge, glossy poster was displayed on an easel next to the door. A heavily retouched picture of Jamey and Kailee from their engagement shoot, both smiling brightly. The words "Engagement Celebration" were printed in elegant gold script. A desperate facade—a last-ditch effort to project stability before news of the Gilmore collapse went public.

Cassie's eyes narrowed. The text message was a trap. A public execution designed to humiliate her.

She raised her hand and signaled for the bodyguards to stay in the hallway.

Cassie placed both hands on the heavy brass handles and shoved the doors open.

The blinding light of crystal chandeliers hit her face.

She stepped into the room.

The chatter near the door died instantly. The silence spread through the massive room. The string quartet fumbled and stopped playing.

Hundreds of eyes turned to look at her. They stared at the angry red scars on her face. They stared at the dirt and dried blood on her torn designer dress.

The silence broke. Loud, cruel whispers and muffled laughter filled the room.

Jamey stepped out from the crowd. He wore a pristine white tuxedo and held a crystal flute of champagne. A smug, victorious smile stretched across his face. He was handsome in a polished, calculated way—blond hair slicked back, jaw too sharp, eyes that never quite matched his smile.

He walked up to her, looking down his nose as if she were a piece of trash.

"Cassie. I didn't think you'd actually show up," Jamey said loudly, ensuring the whole room could hear.

Kailee pushed through the crowd, wearing a glittering evening gown. Layers of thick foundation struggled to mask the swelling along her jawline, and a high diamond choker hid the marks on her neck. She wrapped her arms possessively around Jamey's bicep.

"Everyone!" Kailee shouted, her voice shrill and strained. "This is my poor, sick sister! The one from the mental hospital!"

The room erupted into loud, mocking laughter.

Cassie stood perfectly still. Spine straight as a steel rod. Her eyes swept over the laughing faces, cold and detached. They looked like a room full of clowns.

"Now, Kailee, don't upset her," Jamey said, dripping with fake concern. "We know how unstable she gets."

Cassie's stomach churned with pure revulsion.

She slowly turned her head. A waiter stood frozen nearby, holding a silver tray of drinks.

Cassie reached out and picked up a heavy crystal glass filled with dark red wine. She held it by the stem, her fingers perfectly steady.