The Maybach convoy sped through the empty streets. It pulled into the private underground garage of a luxury apartment building next to Central Park. The security team had already cleared the entire area.

The car door opened. Ingram stepped out. He was still carrying Tina in his arms. Her blood had soaked completely through his expensive suit jacket, staining his white shirt underneath. He walked straight into his private elevator.

The elevator shot up to the penthouse. The doors slid open. Mrs. Wallace, the senior housekeeper, stood in the foyer. When she saw the blood, she slapped both hands over her mouth in shock.

Ingram ignored her. He walked with long, fast strides down the hallway. He kicked the door of the largest guest room open and gently laid Tina down on the massive bed.

Julian Ashford, one of the top surgeons in the country, rushed into the room carrying a heavy medical case. He was complaining about the rain, but as he pulled on his sterile gloves, he saw the girl.

Julian saw the blood on the bed and the blood covering Ingram. He stopped talking immediately. He opened his case and pulled out trauma shears.

Ingram stood rigidly by the side of the bed. He refused to step back. His eyes were glued to Tina's face. Her skin was the color of dirty snow.

Julian cut away the ruined, wet fabric of Tina's shirt. He exposed her back and stomach. Massive, dark purple bruises covered her skin. Julian's jaw tightened.

He looked up at Ingram. He said her ribs were broken. He said she had internal damage. He told Ingram that if he had brought her in ten minutes later, she would have bled to death from the inside.

Ingram heard those words. The muscles in his jaw ticked. The temperature in the room seemed to drop ten degrees. His hands curled into tight fists at his sides.

The surgery took two full hours. Julian wiped the sweat from his forehead with the back of his arm. He finished the last stitch. He let out a long breath and said she was stable.

Julian pulled off his surgical mask. He looked at Ingram. He asked who this girl was and why Ingram was standing there looking like he was ready to murder someone.

Ingram did not answer the question. He stared at Julian and told him he was sleeping on the couch tonight. He ordered him to monitor her vitals every hour.

Julian rolled his eyes, packed up his bloody tools, and walked out to the living room. He closed the door behind him.

Ingram was finally alone with her. He walked over to the floor-to-ceiling window. He looked down at the bright lights of Manhattan. He reached into his pocket and pulled out the muddy dolphin charm.

He took a clean white handkerchief from his inside pocket. He slowly wiped the mud off the plastic surface. He rubbed the dirt out of the grooves on the bottom until the letters T.T. were perfectly clear.

A soft knock came from the door. Palmer walked in. He held a thin, encrypted tablet. He handed it to Ingram.

Palmer kept his voice low. He reported that the girl's name was Tina Valenzuela. He said she had been violently kicked out of her family estate by her aunt just a few hours ago.

When Ingram heard the name Tina, his fingers clamped down hard on the small charm. The plastic dug into his skin. His knuckles turned completely white.

Memories from thirteen years ago crashed into his brain. The smell of smoke. The heat of the fire. The tiny five-year-old girl who dragged his bleeding body out of the wreckage. Her name was Tina.

Palmer kept talking. He said her mother had just died. He said her cousin broke the urn containing the ashes tonight. He confirmed the old man who died on the road was the family butler.

Ingram's breathing grew heavy. A dark, violent anger burned in his chest. The air in the room felt thick and suffocating.

Palmer asked if he should call the police and report the Valenzuela family for murder.

Ingram let out a cold, harsh laugh. He said the police were too easy. He said he was going to make them bleed for every single thing they did to her.

Ingram turned away from the window. He walked back to the bed. He stood over Tina, looking down at her sleeping face.

He reached out. His long fingers gently brushed the damp hair away from her forehead. His touch was incredibly light.

Her eyebrows were pulled together in pain. Her lips were dry and cracked. She looked so small and fragile against the white pillows.

Ingram's eyes slowly moved down. He looked at the edge of the thick white bandage taped just below her collarbone. His chest tightened.

He knew what was under there. He knew the girl who saved him had a pale pink birthmark shaped like a dolphin right on that spot.

He hovered his fingers over the edge of the medical tape. He wanted to rip it off. He wanted to see it. But he stopped. He pulled his hand back and curled it into a fist.

He would not do it while she was unconscious. He would wait for her to open her eyes.

Julian poked his head into the room. He yawned and told Ingram he smelled like a slaughterhouse and needed to change his clothes.

Ingram turned and walked toward the bathroom. Right before he closed the door, he looked back at the bed one last time.

The look in his eyes was not the look of a cold CEO. It was the look of a man who had been starving for thirteen years and finally found food.

He stepped into the shower. The hot water washed the blood down the drain, but it could not wash away the heavy feeling in his chest.

The morning sun hit the smart glass of the windows. The glass automatically dimmed, casting a soft light across the room. Tina slowly opened her eyes.

She stared at the high ceiling. The fabric of the blanket felt too soft. She realized she was not in the rain. Panic hit her instantly. She pushed herself up. A sharp, burning pain shot through her ribs. She gasped and grabbed her side.

Mrs. Wallace heard the noise. She hurried into the room holding a silver tray with a glass of warm water and two white pills. She smiled warmly at Tina.

Tina pushed herself backward until her back hit the headboard. She pulled the blanket up to her chin. Her throat was completely dry. She forced out a raspy whisper, asking where she was and where Aidan was.

Mrs. Wallace stopped smiling. Her eyes filled with pity. She set the tray down. She spoke softly, telling Tina that the old man did not make it. She said Mr. Santiago brought her here to save her.

The words hit Tina like a physical blow. Aidan was dead. The tears came instantly. They spilled over her eyelashes and ran down her cheeks. She bit down hard on the edge of the blanket to stop herself from screaming. Her shoulders shook violently.

Heavy, measured footsteps sounded in the hallway. The door opened wider. Ingram walked in. He was wearing dark blue loungewear.

Tina looked up through her tears. She saw a tall, broad-shouldered man. His face was sharp and handsome, but his presence filled the entire room, making it hard to breathe.

Ingram walked to the side of the bed. He looked down at her. His face was completely blank, but a muscle in his jaw twitched.

Tina swallowed the lump in her throat. Her voice shook as she forced the words out. She told him thank you for saving her life.

Ingram pulled a chair out and sat down. He crossed his legs. He looked at her and said the Valenzuela family had already released a public statement. They told the press she ran away from home.

Tina let out a dry, bitter laugh. The sadness in her eyes was quickly swallowed by pure hatred. She gripped the blanket tighter. She said they were just covering up the murder.

Ingram watched her. He liked the fire in her eyes. He reached into his pocket and pulled out the clean dolphin charm. He placed it on the wooden nightstand next to her.

Tina gasped. She lunged forward, ignoring the pain in her chest. She grabbed the plastic charm and closed her fist around it tightly. She pressed her hand against her heart.

Ingram leaned back in his chair. He kept his voice flat. He asked her if that cheap piece of plastic was really that important.

Tina looked down at her hand. She said it was a protection charm from someone very important to her. She said she would die before she lost it.

Ingram heard those words. The corner of his mouth lifted. It was a tiny movement, barely there, but his eyes darkened with satisfaction.

He stood up. He looked down at her and stated a fact. He told her she was staying in this apartment until her bones healed. He said it was not a request.

Tina opened her mouth to argue. She did not want charity. But she looked into his eyes. They were cold and hard. She closed her mouth and nodded once.

Ingram turned and left the room.

An hour later, Ingram walked into the private lounge of the most exclusive country club in Manhattan.

Montgomery Astor was sitting on a velvet sofa, swirling a glass of red wine. He was grinning. Sterling Thorne sat across from him, staring at his phone with a raised eyebrow.

Montgomery laughed loudly. He said he heard a rumor that the ice-cold CEO of Santiago Corp actually carried a bleeding woman into his building last night.

Sterling looked up. He warned Montgomery to shut up. He said Ingram's building required a background check just to deliver groceries. If a woman was inside, it was serious.

Montgomery took a sip of wine. He joked that she must be a corporate spy who pulled off a great stunt to get into his bed.

The heavy mahogany doors of the lounge swung open. Ingram walked in. His face was expressionless. He buttoned his suit jacket with long fingers.

He looked at the men in the room. The temperature in the lounge dropped instantly. Montgomery stopped laughing. The silence was heavy and uncomfortable.

Montgomery cleared his throat. He tried to smile. He asked Ingram if the rumors about the girl were true.

Ingram walked over to the bar. He poured two fingers of whiskey into a glass. He turned around and stared directly at Montgomery. His eyes were dead.

He spoke in a low, dangerous voice. He told them to keep their mouths shut. He said if anyone in this city tried to look into her background, he would personally destroy their family business.

The men in the room stopped breathing. They stared at Ingram in shock. They realized instantly that this girl was completely off-limits.

Ingram raised the glass and drank the whiskey in one swallow. The alcohol burned his throat, but all he could think about was the way Tina had clutched that charm to her chest.

He set the glass down hard on the wooden counter. He was going to build a wall around her, and no one was going to touch her.

The afternoon sun was hidden behind thick gray clouds. Mrs. Wallace walked into the guest room carrying a tray of clear broth and steamed vegetables. She placed a brand-new, black smartphone next to the bowl.

Mrs. Wallace smiled kindly. She told Tina that Mr. Santiago left the phone for her. She said it was fully encrypted and had all the necessary numbers saved inside.

Tina picked up the phone. Her fingers felt weak. She immediately dialed the private number of her best friend, Orlaith Regan.

The phone rang twice before it was picked up. Orlaith's voice came through the speaker, loud and panicked. She screamed Tina's name, asking where she was and if she was alive.

Hearing Orlaith's voice made Tina's chest ache. Her eyes burned. She swallowed hard and forced her voice to stay steady. She said she was safe.

Orlaith let out a loud breath, then her voice turned furious. She told Tina that Cathi was destroying her name. Cathi had sent out a press release to the entire New York social circle.

Orlaith said Cathi claimed Tina was caught stealing family jewels. The statement said Tina was officially disowned and kicked out for being a thief.

Orlaith added that the tabloids were already running stories calling Tina a degenerate who slept around and did drugs.

Tina's hand clamped down on the phone. Her fingernails dug into her palm until the skin turned white. A hot, burning anger spread through her veins.

She took a deep breath. She told Orlaith to stay calm. She promised she was going to make Cathi and Felicia choke on every single lie they told.

Tina hung up the phone. The adrenaline left her body all at once. The physical trauma and the mental exhaustion crashed into her. The room started to spin.

She dropped the phone on the bed. She fell back onto the pillows. A violent shiver ran through her body. Her teeth began to chatter. Her vision went completely black.

At six o'clock, Ingram walked out of the Santiago Corp boardroom. He got into his private elevator and headed straight to the penthouse.

He walked through the front door and pulled at his tie, loosening the knot. He handed his jacket to Mrs. Wallace and immediately asked about Tina.

Mrs. Wallace looked worried. She wrung her hands together. She said Tina made a phone call and then fell asleep. She said she went in to check on her and the girl was burning up with a fever.

Ingram's face turned hard. He walked past the housekeeper with long, fast strides. He pushed the guest room door open.

The main lights were off. Only a small lamp on the nightstand cast a dim yellow glow over the bed.

Tina was curled into a tight ball under the heavy blanket. Her body was shaking violently. Her face was flushed bright red, and sweat coated her forehead.

Ingram walked to the edge of the bed. He reached out and pressed the back of his hand against her forehead. Her skin was dangerously hot. His jaw clenched tight.

He hit the intercom button on the wall. He barked an order, telling the medical team to get upstairs right now.

While he waited, Ingram walked into the bathroom. He grabbed a clean white towel and ran it under warm water. He wrung it out and walked back to the bed.

He sat down on the edge of the mattress. His movements were stiff, but he gently pressed the damp towel against her hot skin, wiping the sweat from her face.

The high fever pulled Tina into a nightmare. Her eyebrows pulled together tightly. She started tossing her head from side to side.

She started to mumble. Her voice was broken and full of pain. She kept begging someone not to take her mother away.

Ingram felt a sharp pain in his chest. It was a physical ache. His eyes darkened with a violent need to protect her.

Suddenly, Tina's arm shot out from under the blanket. Her small, hot hand grabbed Ingram's wrist.

Her grip was weak, but she held on like she was drowning. She pulled his hand down and pressed her burning cheek directly into his palm.

Ingram's entire body froze. He had a severe aversion to physical touch. He hated people being in his space. But right now, he did not want to pull away.

Julian rushed into the room carrying his medical bag. He stopped dead in his tracks. He stared at Ingram sitting on the bed, letting a woman hold his hand against her face. Julian almost dropped his bag.

Ingram shot Julian a deadly glare. He did not say a word, but his eyes clearly told the doctor to shut up and do his job. He nodded toward the medical bag.

Julian quickly prepared a syringe. He injected the fever reducer into Tina's IV line.

After a few minutes, the medicine started to work. Tina's breathing slowed down. Her shivering stopped. But her hands stayed tightly wrapped around Ingram's fingers.

Julian packed his bag quietly. He walked out of the room and shut the door behind him without making a sound.

The room was completely silent. The only sound was the ticking of the clock on the wall and the soft sound of Tina breathing.

Ingram did not pull his hand away. He adjusted his position on the bed. He wrapped his large fingers around her small hand. He sat there in the dim light and did not move.

The sun started to rise. The morning light hit Ingram's face. He looked tired, but his eyes were wide awake. He stared down at the sleeping girl, his gaze deep and possessive.