Ardella did not hesitate. She flicked her wrist and threw the entire glass of iced martini directly into Braden's face.

The freezing liquid and the green olives hit him right on the bridge of his nose. The alcohol dripped down his chin and soaked into his expensive, unbuttoned shirt.

Someone in the back of the room gasped. No one moved. They all stared in shock.

Braden jumped up from the sofa. He wiped the stinging alcohol from his eyes. His face turned bright red with rage, and he raised his hand high, ready to strike her.

Ardella did not step back. She stepped forward. She tilted her chin up, and her eyes turned into two shards of black ice.

Braden's hand froze in the air. The sheer violence in her stare terrified him. He slowly lowered his arm, his chest heaving.

Ardella reached into her bag and pulled out her phone. She turned the screen toward Braden and hit play.

The high-definition video started. Braden's voice filled the quiet room, clearly stating his disgust for the Coffey family merger and his plans to cheat.

Braden's face went from red to a sickly, pale white. He lunged forward, trying to snatch the phone from her hand.

Ardella easily stepped to the side. She let out a dry laugh and told him that ten copies were already backed up to the cloud.

She leaned in closer. She lowered her voice so only he could hear. She whispered the exact dollar amount TMZ would pay for this video.

Braden ground his teeth together. He asked her how much money she wanted to keep her mouth shut.

Ardella looked at him with pure disgust. She told him she did not want a single cent of his family's dirty money.

She gave him her only condition. Braden had to go to the press himself. He had to announce the end of the engagement and take full public responsibility for the breakup.

Braden shook his head frantically. He said his father would break his legs if he was the one to ruin the merger.

Ardella shrugged her shoulders. She tapped her screen, pretending to open an email draft to a senior reporter at the Wall Street Journal.

Braden broke. He grabbed her wrist, his fingers digging into her skin. He begged her to give him a few days to figure something out.

Ardella ripped her arm away from him. She pulled a sanitizing wipe from her bag and slowly wiped the skin where he had touched her.

She gave him her final ultimatum. He had exactly seventy-two hours to clean up his mess, or she would ruin him.

She dropped the used wipe directly into the ice bucket on the table. She turned around and walked toward the door.

As she passed Scarlett, Ardella kept her eyes fixed straight ahead, not sparing the actress a single glance. The adrenaline in her veins was still pumping hot and fast. It was far too dangerous to acknowledge her in a room full of hostile witnesses; one wrong look could unravel the entire trap she had just sprung. She pushed through the heavy brass doors, leaving the suffocating heat of the VIP room behind.

Once she stepped out into the quiet corridor, the tension in her shoulders dropped a fraction. She felt a brief, sharp vibration in her coat pocket. Pulling out her secondary phone, she shielded the screen with her palm and saw a text from an encrypted number: "Job done. Awaiting payment. -S." Ardella's lips curled into a faint, satisfied smile. She deleted the message instantly, watching the letters vanish into the digital void. The final payment for Scarlett's acting services would be wired by morning.

Ardella walked down the hallway with the confident stride of a winner.

She only made it a few steps before her muscles locked up. Coming around the corner of the hallway was a group of men.

Leading them was Ethelbert Stone.

His personal assistant, Leo, was walking slightly ahead, whispering something into Ethelbert's ear.

There was nowhere to hide. Ardella forced her legs to keep moving. She stared straight ahead, trying to pretend she did not see him.

As the distance between them closed, the scent hit her. It was his custom cologne. A heavy, dark mix of oud and cedarwood.

The smell bypassed her brain and went straight to her nervous system. Her knees went weak. Her stomach dropped.

The hallway was narrow. They were about to pass each other, and the air between them grew so thick she could barely breathe.

Ardella stopped breathing. She pressed her shoulder blades hard against the velvet wallpaper of the hallway, trying to put as much space between them as possible.

Ethelbert did not slow down. His long, powerful legs moved silently across the wool carpet.

In the fraction of a second before they passed each other, Ethelbert shifted his body just an inch toward her.

The cold metal of his suit cufflink brushed against the fabric of her trench coat. It made a tiny, scratching sound.

Ardella's heart violently contracted. The physical contact sent a shockwave through her body. Her brain instantly flashed back to two years ago, to the penthouse, when his hands had roughly ripped the buttons off her shirt.

She kept her eyes glued to the pattern on the floor. She prayed for him to just walk past her.

Ethelbert walked by without looking at her. He treated her like she was nothing but empty air.

Leo, walking behind him, gave her a small, polite nod. But Ardella saw the complicated pity in the assistant's eyes.

She did not nod back. She sped up her walking, desperate to escape the hallway that was now completely filled with Ethelbert's scent.

She thought she was safe. Then, a loud, greasy voice echoed from the other end of the hall. It was the hedge fund manager from Braden's room.

The man ran out into the hall, trying to suck up to Ethelbert. "Mr. Stone! Sorry you had to see that little drama just now!"

Ardella froze in her tracks. A layer of cold sweat broke out on her spine.

She heard Ethelbert stop walking. His deep, cello-like voice echoed in the quiet space.

"What drama?" Ethelbert asked. His tone was completely flat.

The manager pointed a sweaty finger at Ardella's back. He laughed and said it was just the pathetic woman who got cheated on by the Coffey kid.

Ardella felt a heavy, crushing stare land on her back. It felt like a physical weight pressing down on her shoulders.

She stood frozen. Her fingers gripped the leather handles of her Hermes bag so hard her knuckles turned white.

The manager kept talking. He asked if Ethelbert knew the notorious niece of the Price family.

The hallway went dead silent. The air was sucked out of the room.

A few seconds passed. Then, Ethelbert let out a low, quiet laugh. There was zero warmth in the sound.

He spoke very slowly, his voice dripping with absolute disdain. "I don't know her."

Those four words were like cold knives plunging straight into Ardella's chest.

She knew he would say that. She expected it. But hearing him deny her existence so brutally still caused a physical pain that made her throat close up.

The manager laughed, agreeing that a low-class gold digger was beneath Mr. Stone's notice.

Ardella ground her teeth together. She forced the burning tears back down her throat.

She did not turn around. She straightened her spine, lifted her chin, and walked proudly toward the elevator.

The metal doors opened. She stepped inside and started hitting the close button over and over again.

Just as the doors were about to shut, she looked through the narrowing gap. Her eyes met Ethelbert's.

There was no indifference in his ice-blue eyes now. There was only a bottomless, dark obsession and a terrifying possessiveness.

The doors slammed shut. Ardella slumped against the cold metal wall of the elevator. She gasped for air, her chest heaving as if she had just survived a car crash.

Ardella pushed through the front doors of the club. The cold rain of early autumn New York crashed down on her without warning.

She did not have an umbrella. The freezing water instantly soaked through her trench coat, making her shiver violently.

She raised her arm, trying to flag down a yellow cab. But the Manhattan streets were empty in the downpour.

A massive, black, bulletproof Rolls Royce Phantom glided through the rain like a ghost. The license plate was a row of eights. It stopped right in front of her.

The windows were tinted black, but Ardella knew exactly whose car it was. Her heart seized in her chest.

The trunk popped open. Leo stepped out of the front seat, holding a large black umbrella over his head.

He did not ask for her permission. He walked over, his footsteps completely silent against the wet pavement. He stopped right in front of her, the massive black umbrella casting a dark shadow over her face. Slowly, he opened the heavy rear door of the vehicle, making a gesture of cold invitation. The interior light illuminated the luxurious leather, contrasting sharply with the freezing rain outside.

"Mr. Stone is waiting, Miss Price," Leo said, his voice cutting through the downpour like a blade. "Please don't make this difficult."

Ardella spun around. She yelled over the sound of the rain, demanding to know what he was doing and telling him to leave her alone.

Leo looked at her with a blank face. "Mr. Stone does not like to wait, Miss Price. Please get in."

Ardella let out a harsh laugh. She yelled back that she did not need charity from a man who just claimed he did not know her.

Ethelbert sat in the deep shadows of the back seat. His long legs were crossed. He was rolling a silver lighter between his long fingers.

He did not look at her. His voice cut through the sound of the storm, a hard, absolute command. "Get in. Or I will have Leo tie you up and throw you in."

Ardella knew he was not joking. He would do it right here on the street. To avoid the public humiliation, she clenched her jaw and climbed into the car.

The heavy door slammed shut. The noise of the rain and the city was instantly cut off.

The back seat was huge, but Ethelbert's presence made the air feel dangerously thin. Ardella felt like she was suffocating.

The Rolls Royce pulled smoothly into the wet streets. The only sound was the rhythmic wiping of the windshield wipers.

Ethelbert reached out and pressed a button. The thick soundproof glass partition rolled up, completely sealing them off from Leo in the front.

He finally turned his head. His eyes slowly dragged over her wet hair and ruined clothes.

"What's wrong?" Ethelbert asked. His voice was thick with mockery. "The Coffey heir doesn't know the basic etiquette of sending a car for his fiancée?"

The words hit a nerve. Ardella forced her chin up and fired back. "We care about our soul connection. We don't care about material details."

The silver lighter in Ethelbert's hand snapped shut with a sharp, violent click. The temperature in the car plummeted.

He leaned forward. His massive frame trapped her against the door. His cold breath brushed against the tip of her nose.

"Soul connection?" he whispered dangerously. "Watching him fuck another woman in a VIP room is part of your connection?"

Ardella's stomach dropped. He had seen her. He knew exactly what happened inside that room.

She refused to back down. She stared right into his angry eyes. "We are young. It's an open relationship. You don't need to worry about it."

She paused, making sure her next words would cut deep. "Former. Guardian."

Those two words hit a forbidden switch. The muscles in Ethelbert's jaw flexed so hard they looked like they would snap.

His hand shot out. His large fingers clamped hard around her delicate chin, forcing her head up.

His rough thumb rubbed dangerously against her bottom lip. His voice was a dark, terrifying growl. "Say that one more time. I dare you."