Audie stood frozen in the freezing rain, her eyes locked on the narrow gap of the tinted window.

Ryder swallowed hard, his bravado completely shattered by the oppressive aura of the vehicle.

He took another step back, but his bruised ego forced him to speak.

"Who the hell are you?" Ryder stammered, his voice cracking. "Mind your own business."

The driver's side door of the Maybach popped open.

A massive man in a tailored black suit stepped out, a large black umbrella snapping open in his hands.

The bodyguard ignored Ryder entirely.

He walked straight to Audie, holding the umbrella over her head, instantly cutting off the freezing rain.

With his free hand, the bodyguard pulled open the heavy rear door of the Maybach and offered her a polite nod.

Audie glanced back at Ryder, who was standing in the puddle, looking pathetic and soaked.

She clenched her jaw, made a split-second decision, and ducked her head.

She climbed into the cavernous, luxurious back seat of the Maybach.

The heavy door clicked shut behind her, sealing out the noise of the storm and Ryder's existence.

The air inside the car was warm and dry.

It smelled incredible-a sharp, clean scent of cedarwood mixed with the faint, expensive linger of a cigar.

Audie perched awkwardly on the very edge of the seat, terrified her soaked trench coat would ruin the pristine leather.

She turned her head to look at the man sitting beside her.

The cabin was cloaked in shadows. She could only make out the sharp, aggressive line of his jaw and the broad width of his shoulders.

He was leaning back against the seat, his long legs stretched out, his large hands resting casually on his knees.

The Maybach accelerated smoothly, leaving Ryder standing alone in the downpour.

"Thank you," Audie whispered, her voice trembling slightly from the cold and the adrenaline crash.

The man didn't say a word.

He reached into a hidden compartment between the seats and pulled out a folded square of dark fabric.

He held out a clean, dry silk handkerchief toward her. His movements were fluid, almost practiced.

Audie reached out to take it.

As her fingers closed around the silk, her skin accidentally brushed against the back of his hand.

His skin was cool to the touch.

For a split second, the rhythmic sound of his breathing seemed to stop.

His head turned slightly, his dark eyes locking onto the side of her face with an intensity that made her stomach flip.

Audie quickly pulled her hand back and pressed the silk to her wet forehead.

The handkerchief smelled exactly like him-that intoxicating blend of cold cedar and smoke.

From the front seat, the driver's voice broke the silence. "Where to, sir?"

The man beside her shifted slightly.

"Your address," he said. His voice was a low rumble that vibrated through the floorboards.

"Brooklyn," Audie said, rattling off the street name of her rundown apartment building.

When she said the borough, she saw the man's brow furrow slightly in the shadows.

The car fell into a heavy, suffocating silence.

For ten minutes, the only sound was the rhythmic thump-thump of the windshield wipers pushing away the rain.

The proximity to this stranger was making Audie's skin prickle with an intense, unexplainable heat.

She needed to break the tension.

"I can pay you for the ride," Audie blurted out. "Or for the dry cleaning of the seat."

A low, deep chuckle vibrated from the man's chest.

The sound did strange things to Audie's pulse.

He turned his head fully toward her. As the car passed beneath a streetlamp, a flash of golden light illuminated his face.

His eyes were strikingly intense, framed by dark lashes.

"Keep your money," he said softly.

He looked away, staring out the window into the rain. "Just a business expense."

The Maybach slowed to a crawl.

It pulled up to the curb right in front of Audie's dilapidated brick apartment building.

The contrast between the million-dollar vehicle and the graffiti-covered stoop was jarring.

Audie pushed open the heavy, peeling wooden door of her apartment and stepped inside.

She reached out in the pitch black and slapped her hand against the wall switch.

The cheap ceiling light flickered twice, buzzing loudly before finally casting a harsh yellow glow over her tiny living room.

She peeled off her soaked trench coat and dropped it onto the worn fabric of her sofa.

She kicked off her wet heels, her bare feet hitting the cold linoleum floor.

Her eyes immediately landed on the coffee table.

Sitting right in the center was a ceramic mug with Ryder's initials on it.

A sharp, physical pain stabbed directly behind her ribs.

She walked over, grabbed the mug by the handle, and tossed it straight into the metal trash can by the kitchen counter.

It hit the bottom with a loud, hollow thud.

She didn't stop moving.

She marched into the tiny bathroom and ripped open the mirrored medicine cabinet.

She grabbed Ryder's electric toothbrush, his shaving cream, and his expensive razor, sweeping them all into a black plastic garbage bag.

She moved to the bedroom next.

She yanked open the closet doors and ripped his spare dress shirts off their hangers, throwing them into the bag.

She was moving like a machine, her face completely blank, her chest rising and falling with shallow breaths.

She opened the bottom drawer of her dresser to check for any stray socks.

Her hand brushed against a small, velvet box tucked in the back corner.

She pulled it out and flipped the lid open.

Inside sat a cheap, silver-plated necklace. It was the very first gift Ryder had ever given her.

Her fingers stopped moving.

A sudden, intense burning sensation hit the back of her eyes, but she refused to let a single tear fall.

She let out a dry, bitter laugh.

She tossed the necklace, box and all, into the very bottom of the black garbage bag.

She tied the plastic handles into a tight, aggressive knot.

Carrying the two heavy bags, she walked out of her apartment and down the narrow hallway.

She yanked open the heavy metal door of the building's trash chute.

She shoved both bags into the dark hole and let go.

She listened to the heavy plastic scraping against the metal pipes as it plummeted down into the dumpster below.

She exhaled a long, shaky breath, feeling a fraction of the weight lift off her chest.

When she walked back into her apartment, her cell phone was lighting up on the kitchen counter.

The screen displayed fourteen missed calls from Ryder.

Her face hardened into stone.

She tapped his contact name, scrolled to the bottom, and hit Block this Caller.

She walked into the bathroom and turned on the faucet, splashing freezing cold water onto her face.

She gripped the edges of the porcelain sink and stared at her pale reflection in the mirror.

She slapped her own cheeks twice, hard, forcing the color back into her skin.

She walked over to her small desk and flipped open her MacBook.

The screen flared to life, illuminating her face in a stark white glow.

She opened her work email and downloaded the massive financial dossier for the Jarvis Dynamics merger.

As a junior analyst on Wall Street, this file was her only ticket out of this miserable life.

She forced her brain to shut down every personal emotion and stared at the rows of financial data.

At exactly 2:00 AM, a bright notification banner slid across the top right corner of her screen.

It was a new email.

The sender name read: Eleanor Bell.

The subject line was: Liam's Trust Fund Renewal Documents.

Audie's hand jerked. Her fingers clamped down on the plastic mouse so hard the joints popped.

She clicked the email open.

There was no greeting. Just a single, icy sentence: Call me tomorrow morning.

Audie knew exactly what this was.

It was the leash. The ultimate weapon her adoptive family used to keep her in line.

She closed her eyes and leaned her head back against her chair.

The heavy, suffocating pressure of the storm had finally arrived inside her apartment.

Audie balanced a scalding cup of black coffee in one hand as she speed-walked through the open floor plan of her Wall Street investment bank.

The chaotic noise of ringing phones and shouting traders faded into the background.

She reached her supervisor's glass-walled office and slapped the thick, bound Jarvis Dynamics analysis report onto his desk.

The loud smack of paper hitting wood made him jump.

He flipped through the first three pages, a look of genuine surprise and approval washing over his face. He waved a hand, signaling her to keep pushing.

Audie walked back to her cubicle.

The second her skirt hit the mesh fabric of her desk chair, her internal phone line began to flash red.

She picked up the receiver.

"Audie," the receptionist whispered, her voice tight with panic. "There is a man named Ryder down here. He's screaming at the security guards."

Audie's stomach dropped. A hot flash of pure rage seared through her veins.

"I'll be right down."

She grabbed her security badge and marched toward the elevators.

When the doors opened to the ground-floor lobby, she saw him.

Ryder was being blocked at the main reception desk by two massive security guards, his face red as he screamed her name.

His eyes were bloodshot, the dark circles under them making him look deranged.

"Did you find some old Wall Street sugar daddy to pay your rent?" he spat, his lips curling into an ugly sneer.

Dozens of corporate professionals in tailored suits stopped walking. Eyes turned toward them.

Audie didn't blink. Her expression was absolute ice.

She lifted the half-full plastic cup of iced Americano she had quickly grabbed from her own desk on her way out.

With a flick of her wrist, she threw the dark, freezing liquid directly into Ryder's face.

The ice cubes hit his forehead with a sharp smack.

The brown coffee dripped down his nose, staining the crisp white collar of his expensive dress shirt.

Ryder gasped, his mouth falling open in sheer shock. He stood frozen, water dripping from his chin.

"If you ever show your face at my office again," Audie said, her voice deadly quiet but carrying perfectly across the silent lobby, "I will file a restraining order before you hit the sidewalk."

She turned around, swiped her badge against the scanner, and walked through the turnstile.

She left Ryder standing in a puddle of coffee, his face burning red with humiliated rage.

When Audie finally sat back down at her desk, her hands were shaking slightly from the adrenaline.

Her cell phone vibrated violently against the wood of her desk.

The screen flashed: Eleanor Bell.

Audie squeezed her eyes shut. She grabbed the phone and walked quickly into the empty, soundproof breakroom.

She pressed the green button and held the phone to her ear.

"Audie," Eleanor's voice was sharp, arrogant, and carried the weight of absolute authority.

Eleanor didn't mention the email. She didn't ask how Audie was.

She immediately started talking about the quarterly yields on Liam's medical trust fund.

"The market has been volatile," Eleanor lied smoothly. "As the legal guardian of the trust, I might have to freeze the disbursements for his medical care next month."

Audie's fingers dug into the edge of the breakroom counter.

"What do you want, Eleanor?" Audie asked, her voice tight, fighting the panic rising in her chest.

"There is an engagement party tonight at The Plaza," Eleanor said lightly, as if discussing the weather. "You will attend. You will smile. You will show everyone that the Bell family is united and thrilled for Tatum."

Audie's stomach violently rejected the idea.

They wanted her to stand there and play the supportive sister to the woman who stole her boyfriend.

"No," Audie started to say.

"Liam's surgery bill for next month is forty-two thousand dollars," Eleanor stated, cutting her off completely.

The number hit Audie like a physical punch to the gut.

Her salary couldn't cover a fraction of that.

Audie bit down on the inside of her cheek so hard she tasted the sharp metallic tang of copper.

"Fine," Audie forced the word out of her throat.

Eleanor let out a soft, victorious hum and ended the call.

The dial tone buzzed in Audie's ear.

She lowered the phone and stared out the breakroom window at the gray concrete jungle of Manhattan.

Her thumb rubbed furiously against her knuckles.

If they wanted her at that party, she would go. But she was going to make them regret it.