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.

Cassie gently swirled the dark red wine in the crystal glass. The liquid caught the light of the chandeliers, looking like thick blood. The corner of her mouth twitched upward into a cold smile.

Kailee saw the smile and her face twisted with anger. She stepped closer, voice rising to a screech.

"What are you smiling at, you freak? Everyone knows Frederick only married you to torture you! You're nothing but a scarred toy to that pervert!"

The guests gasped, then began whispering furiously, eyes darting between Cassie and Kailee.

Jamey leaned in close to Cassie. He lowered his voice, his breath smelling of expensive champagne and deceit.

"Get on your knees and beg, Cassie," Jamey whispered, his eyes gleaming. "Beg me, and I might throw you a few thousand dollars to fix that disgusting face."

Cassie let out a short, sharp laugh. The sound cut through the murmurs.

People stared, faces contorting in confusion. They thought she'd finally lost her mind.

Cassie's arm snapped forward.

She threw the entire glass of red wine directly into Jamey's face.

The dark liquid splashed violently against his skin, soaking into the pristine white fabric of his custom tuxedo. The red stain spread rapidly across his chest like a massive wound.

The entire banquet hall sucked in a collective breath. Absolute shock paralyzed the room.

Jamey stood frozen, wine dripping from his nose and chin. His eyes widened in disbelief. His face rapidly turned a dark, furious purple.

"You crazy bitch!" Jamey roared. He raised his right hand, curling his fingers into a fist.

Cassie didn't flinch. She planted her feet, twisted her hips, and swung her left hand with every ounce of strength she possessed.

Her palm connected with Jamey's jaw with a sickening, explosive crack.

The sheer force whipped Jamey's head to the side. Blood sprayed from his split lip. His expensive glasses flew off his face and shattered against the marble floor. He stumbled backward, clutching his face, completely disoriented.

Kailee let out a bloodcurdling scream. She extended her hands, long acrylic nails aimed right at Cassie's eyes, and lunged forward.

Cassie easily sidestepped the clumsy attack.

As Kailee rushed past, Cassie stuck her foot out.

Kailee's high heel caught on Cassie's ankle. She lost her balance entirely, pitching forward, arms flailing wildly.

She crashed headfirst into the massive, ten-tier champagne tower.

The impact was deafening. Hundreds of crystal glasses shattered simultaneously. The tower collapsed in a spectacular explosion of glass and sticky alcohol. Kailee hit the floor hard, buried under a mountain of broken crystal, screaming in agony as glass cut into her skin.

The banquet hall erupted into total chaos. Women in expensive gowns shrieked and ran backward.

Cassie stood tall amidst the destruction. She looked down at Jamey, who was struggling to stand.

"Jamey Reeves is bankrupt!" Cassie shouted, her voice ringing out clearly over the panic. "His company is drowning in debt!"

The guests stopped moving. All eyes snapped back to Cassie.

"He is only marrying Kailee to steal the Gilmore family dowry to save his own pathetic life!" Cassie declared.

Jamey's face went completely pale. "Shut up! She's lying! She's a crazy bitch!" he screamed, panic bleeding into his voice.

Cassie calmly reached into her handbag. She pulled out her phone, tapped the screen, and held it up.

A crystal-clear audio recording blasted through the phone's speaker. Jamey's voice, begging a loan shark for money, explicitly detailing his plan to drain the Gilmore accounts the moment the ring was on Kailee's finger.

The recording ended. The silence in the room was absolute.

Jamey's knees gave out. He collapsed onto the floor, chest heaving, reputation annihilated.

Suddenly, a heavy man pushed through the crowd. Ricky, Kailee's uncle. His face was red with rage.

"You ungrateful little whore!" Ricky bellowed. He raised a massive fist and charged at Cassie.

Before Cassie could raise her hands, the heavy double doors exploded open.

Two men in black tactical gear rushed in. They moved with terrifying speed. One bodyguard grabbed Ricky's extended arm, twisted it violently behind his back, and slammed him face-first into the marble floor. The sickening pop of a dislocated shoulder echoed in the room.

Ricky screamed in agony.

Hotel security guards finally ran into the room, reaching for their radios.

The bodyguards didn't hesitate. They reached under their jackets and drew heavy black handguns. They racked the slides in unison. The sharp metallic clack of bullets entering chambers froze the blood of everyone in the room.

The bodyguards aimed the muzzles directly at the crowd.

"Get down!" one of the guards roared.

The wealthy guests screamed in terror. They dropped to the floor, covering their heads, sobbing uncontrollably.

Then, a slow, heavy footstep echoed from the hallway.

The crowd near the door scrambled backward on their hands and knees, parting like the Red Sea.

Dane Frederick walked into the banquet hall.

He wore a long black tailored overcoat. The aura of pure, unadulterated violence rolling off him was so intense it made the air hard to breathe. His dark eyes swept over the cowering guests like a god looking at insects.

He spotted Cassie standing in the center of the broken glass. The tight, murderous tension in his jaw relaxed just a fraction.

Dane walked straight through the mess. He stopped in front of Cassie, reached out, and pulled her hard against his chest. His large hand wrapped around the back of her head, pressing her face into his coat.

He held her tight, his physical presence an impenetrable shield against the entire world.