Evelyn stumbled forward as Julian dragged her by the wrist.

The rain ran down her blonde hair and dripped onto his polished leather shoes. She grabbed his thick fingers with her free hand, trying to pry them off.

Julian just squeezed harder. The bones in her wrist ground together with a sickening pop. Evelyn let out a sharp gasp of pain.

Red and blue lights suddenly flashed against the wet pavement.

A New York City police officer pulled his motorcycle to the curb. The flashing lights cut through the heavy gray storm.

Evelyn felt a sudden rush of hope. She yanked her arm hard and screamed over the rain.

"Officer! This is a standard traffic accident! He has no right to hold me here!"

Officer Davies unclipped his ticket book and marched toward them. He looked annoyed by the weather. But as he got closer, his eyes dropped to the license plate on the Rolls Royce. Then he looked up and saw Julian's hard, cold face.

The officer froze in his tracks.

He shoved the ticket book back into his pocket so fast he almost dropped it. A nervous, sweating smile stretched across his face.

"Mr. Hawthorne. I apologize for the disturbance. The road conditions are a mess today."

Evelyn stared at the cop. Her mouth fell open. The heavy weight of absolute powerlessness crashed down on her shoulders. The law meant nothing here.

Julian did not even look at the police officer. He tilted his head slightly, looking down at Evelyn with a cruel, mocking curve on his lips.

"A standard traffic accident?" Julian sneered. "Gus. Tell the officer how we handle the repair costs for this vehicle."

Gus pulled a thick, gold-embossed card from his jacket and handed it to the cop.

"This is the direct line to the Hawthorne Group Legal Department. We will be filing a lawsuit directly against this woman."

The word lawsuit made Evelyn's blood run cold.

Her stomach dropped. If a lawsuit went public, her father's fragile company would be completely destroyed by tomorrow morning.

She bit down hard on her lower lip. She bit it until she tasted the sharp metallic tang of blood. She forced her shoulders to drop.

"Julian," she whispered, her voice shaking. "Mr. Hawthorne. Please. We can settle this privately. I will use my insurance."

"Insurance?"

Julian laughed. It was a dark, ugly sound. He stepped into her space, backing her up until her spine hit the wet side of the Rolls Royce. His nose almost touched hers.

"Your pathetic policy limit wouldn't even cover the paint job on this door."

His voice was low, dangerous, and left absolutely no room for argument.

The police officer quickly turned around. He started pulling yellow tape across the street, actively pushing away the pedestrians who were trying to take photos. He was giving them complete privacy on a public street.

Julian did not waste another second. He planted his large hand flat against the small of Evelyn's back. He shoved her hard into the spacious rear cabin of the Rolls Royce.

Evelyn fell onto the soft leather seats. Before she could even push herself up, Julian's massive frame climbed in right after her.

The heavy door slammed shut.

The sound of the storm and the city vanished instantly. The cabin was dead silent. It felt like a padded prison cell.

Julian reached up and ripped his wet tie from his neck. He threw it onto the floorboard. His dark eyes locked onto Evelyn in the dim light of the car.

Evelyn pressed her back hard against the opposite door. She wrapped her arms around her wet chest, shivering violently. The air in the car was thick with his body heat and the smell of cedar.

Julian reached out and pressed a silver button on the center console.

A thick, soundproof partition slowly glided up, completely cutting off the front seat. The space became suffocatingly private.

He leaned forward. His broad shoulders blocked out the little light coming through the tinted windows. Evelyn pressed her cheek against the cold glass of the window, trying to get away from him.

"You said you wanted to settle this privately?" Julian reached out. His long fingers caught a wet strand of her blonde hair. He rubbed it slowly between his thumb and index finger.

Evelyn swallowed hard. Her throat was completely dry. She nodded once.

"Yes. As long as it is within my means."

Julian dropped the strand of hair. His hand shot out and his fingers clamped hard around her jaw. He forced her head up, making her look directly into his furious eyes.

"Within your means?" he repeated. His jaw ticked violently. The muscles in his neck strained.

"Evelyn Rhodes. You owe me a debt you could not pay in ten lifetimes."

His thumb dragged roughly across her trembling bottom lip. The rough friction sent a violent shiver down her spine.

Her heart hammered against her ribs. She read the dark promise in his eyes. He did not want her money. He wanted to break her.

Julian let go of her jaw. He reached into the leather compartment next to him and pulled out a blank checkbook. He tossed it onto her wet lap.

"You either write me a seven-figure check right now," Julian said. His eyes slowly dragged down to where her wet silk shirt clung to her breasts. "Or you take full physical responsibility for what you owe me."

The leather checkbook felt like a burning piece of coal against Evelyn's wet thighs.

Her entire body went rigid. A hot flush of deep humiliation crawled up her neck and burned the tips of her ears.

She grabbed the checkbook. She threw it as hard as she could right at Julian's chest.

Before the checkbook could even touch his chest, his large hand shot out and snatched it straight out of the air. His grip was so violently tight that the leather cover audibly creaked under his fingers. Julian did not even blink. A low, dark chuckle vibrated in his chest.

"You are sick, Julian!" Her voice shook with raw anger. "I am never agreeing to your disgusting terms!"

"Disgusting?" Julian lunged forward.

He planted both hands on the leather seat on either side of her hips. He caged her completely. His broad chest hovered inches from her face.

"You didn't think it was disgusting when you climbed into another man's bed for money three years ago, did you?"

The words sliced straight into Evelyn's heart like a serrated knife. The memory of that night, of the agonizing sacrifice she was forced to make to keep her family from total destruction, rushed back. Her throat closed up. Her eyes burned with unshed tears.

She dug her fingernails so hard into her palms that the skin broke. She swallowed the painful truth down. She lifted her chin and stared back at him with dead eyes.

"Yes. I love money. And that is exactly why I have a fiancé now. He will pay for this."

The temperature in the car dropped to freezing.

The mocking amusement vanished from Julian's face. A violent, dark storm took over his eyes.

He grabbed her waist. His large hands clamped down on her ribs. Even through the wet silk, his palms felt like branding irons burning into her skin.

"Preston Vance?" Julian spat the name out like a curse. "You think that useless trust-fund brat has seven figures in liquid cash?"

Evelyn's stomach plummeted. She knew Preston's finances were a mess. But she would rather die than show weakness to Julian right now.

"That is between my future husband and me. It is none of your business, Mr. Hawthorne." She pushed both hands against his hard chest, trying to shove him away. He did not move a single inch.

Julian's eyes turned lethal. He lowered his head until his lips brushed against hers when he spoke.

"Husband? You really think I am going to let you walk down that aisle?"

He was so close she could taste the mint and tobacco on his breath. Her heart beat so fast it hurt her ribs.

The intercom on the console suddenly beeped. Gus's voice broke the heavy silence.

"Sir, the intersection is clear. Where to?"

The voice broke the spell. Evelyn shoved Julian's chest with all her strength. He was distracted for a split second, and she managed to push him back. She scrambled wildly for the door handle.

"Let me out! Right here at the subway station!" she yelled, her voice bordering on panic.

Julian fell back against his seat. He watched her scramble like a terrified prey. A muscle twitched in his jaw.

"Pull over," Julian ordered into the intercom. His voice was dead.

The Rolls Royce glided to a stop next to the subway entrance. The locks clicked open. Evelyn shoved the heavy door open and threw herself out into the freezing rain.

She ran so fast she did not realize her beige Burberry trench coat had slipped off her lap and fallen onto the floorboard.

Julian sat in the dark cabin. He did not try to stop her. He watched her thin, soaking wet figure disappear down the concrete stairs of the subway station.

Slowly, he looked down at the floor.

He reached down and picked up the wet trench coat. The fabric still held the warmth of her body. It smelled faintly of rain and her signature rose perfume.

Julian lifted the collar of the coat to his nose. He closed his eyes and inhaled deeply. His Adam's apple bobbed hard. A sick, obsessive look washed over his sharp features.

He opened his eyes and pressed the intercom button.

"Gus. Look into the Vance family's accounts. Cut off every single line of credit Preston Vance has."

Evelyn stood shivering in the packed subway car. Water dripped from her hair onto the dirty floor. People stared at her ruined clothes, but she just hugged her arms tighter across her chest.

Her brain was spinning. Julian's threats. The million-dollar debt. Preston's uselessness. It felt like a physical weight crushing her lungs.

An hour later, she unlocked the door to her cheap apartment on the edge of Brooklyn.

She walked into the dark, cramped living room. Before she could even reach for the light switch, her phone let out a loud, sharp ping from inside her purse.

Evelyn pulled it out. Her hands were still shaking from the cold. It was a mass email from her company's HR department. Evelyn knew the firm had been desperately seeking a buyout for months, but seeing the buyer's name made her blood run cold.

URGENT NOTICE: The binding acquisition agreement with the Hawthorne Group has been finalized tonight. The new acting CEO, Mr. Julian Hawthorne, will be conducting an on-site inspection tomorrow morning.

The blue light from the phone screen illuminated Evelyn's pale face in the dark apartment.

The name Julian Hawthorne burned into her retinas.

Her knees gave out. She slid down the cold wooden door until she hit the floor. The phone slipped from her numb fingers and landed on the cheap rug with a soft thud.

Thunder rattled the thin windows of her apartment. Evelyn pulled her knees to her chest and buried her face in her arms. Her thin shoulders shook violently as a wave of absolute helplessness crashed over her.

The next morning, harsh sunlight sliced through the broken blinds and hit Evelyn's face.

She groaned and pushed herself up from the floor. Her head pounded with a vicious migraine. She walked into the tiny bathroom and gripped the edges of the sink. She stared at her swollen, red eyes in the mirror. She slapped her own cheeks hard, forcing the blood back into her skin.

Her phone started ringing on the floor.

She picked it up. It was Clara Mercer, her best friend and assistant.

Evelyn answered. Clara's panicked whisper immediately filled her ear.

"Eve! Did you read the email? That ruthless tyrant from Hawthorne Group actually bought our garbage company!"

Evelyn closed her eyes. Her throat felt like sandpaper. "I saw it, Clara. He isn't just a tyrant. He is..." She swallowed the words my ex-boyfriend.

Clara kept talking, her voice frantic. "HR is losing their minds. They are making everyone wear full corporate formal. He is coming in an hour. Do not be late!"

Evelyn hung up the phone. She looked at her closet full of cheap, worn-out blazers.

She made a decision. She was not going to stand in a cubicle and let Julian humiliate her in front of her coworkers. She needed to pay off that car repair debt today. She needed to cut the chain Julian had wrapped around her neck.

The only way to do that was to get the money from the owner of the wrecked car. Preston.

Evelyn pulled out her sharpest black blazer. It was a piece of armor to hide how badly she was shaking inside. She applied a dark, aggressive shade of red lipstick.

She didn't go to the office. She ordered an Uber and headed straight to the Upper East Side.

The car pulled up to The Obsidian Club, a highly exclusive private lounge. Evelyn paid the driver and walked in her heels toward the heavy gold-trimmed revolving doors.

A massive security guard stepped in front of her, holding up a thick hand.

"Sorry, ma'am. Members only. I need to see your black card."

Evelyn straightened her spine. She looked the guard dead in the eye with cold authority. "I am Preston Vance's fiancée. He is inside."

The guard checked an iPad. His posture immediately relaxed into submission. He stepped aside. "Mr. Vance is in VVIP Room 3. Go right in, ma'am."

Evelyn walked down the long corridor. The floor was covered in thick Persian rugs. The heavy bass from the club's sound system vibrated in the soles of her feet. The air smelled like expensive vodka and heavy perfume.

As she got closer to Room 3, her heart started to beat faster. A sick feeling settled in her stomach. Preston had told her he had a mandatory family trust meeting this morning.

She stopped outside the heavy velvet door. It was cracked open just an inch. Dim purple light spilled out into the hallway, along with the sound of women giggling and men cheering.

Evelyn held her breath. She leaned forward and looked through the crack.

Her pupils shrank to pinpricks.

Preston was slouched back on a massive leather sofa. His expensive shirt was unbuttoned to his stomach. He held a crystal glass of champagne, a sloppy, drunk smile on his face.

Straddling his lap was Kenzie Locke. She was a well-known socialite who spent her life in VIP sections.

Kenzie laughed loudly and popped a peeled grape into Preston's mouth. Their bodies were pressed tightly together. Three other rich men in the room whistled and clapped.

A cold chill shot from Evelyn's feet straight to the top of her head.

It wasn't just anger at the betrayal. It was a deep, sickening wave of self-pity. She had tolerated this pathetic excuse for a man just to keep her family afloat.

She dug her nails into her palms. The sharp pain cleared the fog in her brain. She wasn't here to cry over a cheating fiancé. She was here for the money.

Evelyn lifted her right foot. She kicked the heavy velvet door with all her strength.

The door flew open and slammed against the interior wall with a massive crash. The sound echoed over the heavy bass of the music.

The laughter inside the room died instantly. Every head snapped toward the doorway.

Evelyn stood there, her black blazer sharp, her red lips set in a cold, hard line.

Preston jumped so hard he spilled his champagne all over his pants. He shoved Kenzie off his lap. His face went pale.

"Eve... Evelyn? What are you doing here?"