Vivian sat on a bench outside the hospital for twenty minutes, just breathing. She had borrowed a pair of sneakers from a sympathetic nurse and washed her face in the public restroom. She looked less like a party casualty and more like a tragedy.

She took a cab to Midtown.

The Blackwood & Partners building was a monolith of black glass and steel, piercing the sky like a jagged shard. It was intimidating, cold, and impenetrable. Just like its owner.

Vivian walked into the lobby. Her head was high, her sunglasses on. She marched to the elevator bank.

"Miss Sterling?" A security guard stepped in front of her. "I can't let you up."

"I have a meeting," she lied.

"Mr. Blackwood left specific instructions," the guard said, looking uncomfortable. "You are on the 'Do Not Admit' list."

Vivian felt a flush of humiliation. Of course she was.

She looked around. A delivery guy with a stack of pizza boxes was heading for the service elevator.

Vivian waited until the guard turned to answer a ringing phone. She slipped off her sneakers, holding them in her hand, and sprinted silently across the marble floor. She wedged herself into the service elevator just as the doors were closing.

The delivery guy stared at her. Vivian put a finger to her lips. "Shh."

She got off on the top floor. The smell of leather and money hit her instantly. The reception area was empty. She could hear voices coming from the conference room at the end of the hall.

She didn't knock. She didn't announce herself. She walked straight to the double mahogany doors and pushed them open.

"The merger is contingent on the SEC ruling, which means-"

Julian stopped talking.

He was sitting at the head of a long table. Five other partners, all older men, turned to look at the intruder.

Julian didn't look surprised. He looked bored. He slowly capped his fountain pen and set it down.

"Gentlemen," Julian said, his eyes never leaving Vivian's face. "Give us a moment."

The partners scrambled to gather their files and leave. They sensed the violence in the air.

When the door clicked shut, the silence was deafening.

"You're persistent," Julian said. He didn't stand up. He leaned back in his leather chair, crossing his legs.

"I want to hire you," Vivian said. She walked to the other end of the table, placing her hands on the polished wood. They were shaking, so she pressed down harder.

"I'm not for sale, remember?"

"This isn't personal," Vivian said, her voice steadying. "My father is in a coma. My stepmother says people are coming out of the woodwork. Illegitimate children. They want the money, Julian. They want to freeze everything. Conrad is trying to take the company. I need... I need a monster. And you're the best one in the city."

Julian raised an eyebrow. "A monster? Is that what I am?"

"You know what I mean."

"My retainer is two million dollars," Julian said flatly. "Upfront."

Vivian swallowed. "I can't access my cash right now. That's why I need you. Once the trust is unfrozen-"

"No credit," Julian interrupted. "Especially not for a Sterling."

He stood up then, unbuttoning his jacket. He walked around the table, his steps silent on the plush carpet. He moved like a predator circling prey.

"Why should I help you, Vivian?" He stopped right in front of her. "You destroyed me. Do you remember? Senior year. The prom."

Vivian felt sick. "Julian, please. That was... that was complicated."

"It was simple," he corrected. "You laughed. You told your friends I was the gardener's son and you were just bored. You humiliated me in front of the entire school."

Vivian bit her tongue. She remembered the fear in her father's eyes when he found out about them. She remembered the threat. But telling Julian now would sound like a cheap excuse. And excuses didn't work on monsters.

"I was young," she whispered, looking down. "I was a brat. I liked the power."

"You were cruel," Julian said. His eyes were dark, swirling with old anger. "And now you want me to save your fortune? The fortune that made you think you were better than me?"

He leaned down, his lips brushing her ear.

"Get out, Vivian. Watching you go bankrupt will be the highlight of my fiscal year."

Vivian didn't move. She couldn't. The rejection stung, but the desperation was stronger.

She walked over to the door and locked it. The click echoed in the large room.

Julian turned, his expression shifting from cold to amused. "Are you going to hold me hostage, Vivian?"

"I'm going to make you listen," she said, her voice trembling but defiant. She walked back to the table. "You think this is just about me? If my father's estate collapses, it's going to be a feeding frenzy. You manage half the portfolios that are invested in Sterling Industries. If the stock tanks because of a family feud, your clients lose money. And when your clients lose money, you look incompetent."

She took a breath, playing the only card she had-his ego.

"You're the impenetrable shield of the elite, right? Well, if the Sterling empire falls apart while you watch from the sidelines, people will wonder why the great Julian Blackwood didn't see it coming."

Julian paused. He looked at her, really looked at her, for the first time. "A plea to my vanity," he said, sounding almost disappointed. "Better than begging, I suppose. But still irrelevant."

He reached for a small porcelain cup on the side table. An espresso. "Conrad already called. He wants me to consult for the trust. He wants to pay me to ensure I don't help you."

Vivian felt the floor drop out. "Conrad got to you?"

"He's thorough," Julian said, taking a sip. "And unlike you, he has the authority to sign checks."

"He's a snake!" Vivian yelled, losing her composure. "He'll run the company into the ground!"

"Not my problem," Julian said. "I enjoy watching things burn."

Something inside Vivian snapped. The exhaustion, the fear, the humiliation-it all boiled over into a white-hot rage.

She grabbed the espresso cup from his hand.

Julian didn't react fast enough.

She threw the contents in his face.

The dark, hot liquid splashed across his cheek, his chin, and soaked into the pristine white collar of his shirt.

Julian frozen. He closed his eyes. A drop of coffee dripped from his nose.

The room went deadly silent.

Vivian gasped, her hand flying to her mouth. "I... I didn't..."

Julian opened his eyes. They weren't cold anymore. They were burning.

He didn't wipe his face. He stepped forward. Vivian stepped back. He took another step. She retreated until her back hit the bookshelf filled with leather-bound law books.

Julian slammed his hands on the shelves on either side of her head, trapping her.

"You have a death wish," he growled.

Vivian looked up at him, trembling. The coffee stained his skin like war paint. He smelled of espresso and fury.

"You deserved it," she whispered, though her voice shook.

Julian stared at her mouth. His gaze dropped to her lips, then back to her eyes. The air between them crackled with electricity. It was violence, but it was something else, too. Something dark and suffocating.

He leaned in. Vivian stopped breathing. She thought he was going to kiss her. She wanted him to kiss her.

Instead, his hand moved to the intercom on the desk behind him. He didn't look away from her eyes.

"Security," he said, his voice rough. "My office. Now."

He pushed himself off the bookshelf and stepped back, ignoring the mess on his face.

"That's assault, Vivian," he said coolly. "I could have you arrested."

"Do it," she challenged, tears stinging her eyes. "At least in jail, I get a free lawyer."

Julian's jaw tightened. For a second, she saw a flicker of hesitation.

Then the door burst open. Caleb and two security guards rushed in.

"Get her out of here," Julian ordered, turning his back to her. "And file for a restraining order."

The security guards didn't drag her, but they held her arms firmly, escorting her to the elevator like a prisoner. When the doors opened in the lobby, they released her. Vivian stumbled, nearly falling onto the marble floor.

People stared. Whispers rippled through the room.

Vivian straightened her spine. She smoothed her hair. She was a Sterling. She would not cry in public.

The revolving doors spun. Conrad walked in, flanked by two assistants. He looked like he owned the place.

He saw Vivian. A cruel smile spread across his face. He stopped, blocking her path to the exit.

"Rough meeting?" Conrad laughed. "I told you, sis. Blackwood is out of your league. I'm going up to sign the consulting agreement now. It's over."

Vivian's mind raced. If Conrad went up there, if he signed that paper, she was dead in the water. She had to stop him.

She looked at Conrad. She looked at the elevator where Caleb was just stepping out, holding a file.

A lie formed on her tongue. It was reckless. It was dangerous. It was perfect.

Vivian laughed. She threw her head back and let out a throaty, amused sound. She stepped closer to Conrad, invading his personal space.

"Oh, Conrad," she purred, loud enough for the receptionists to hear. "You really think he kicked me out because of business?"

Conrad frowned. "What are you talking about?"

Vivian gestured to her messy hair and the red mark on her arm where the guard had held her. "Julian and I... we have a complicated history. He likes it rough. The restraining order? That's just foreplay."

Conrad looked disgusted. "You're lying."

"Am I?" Vivian lowered her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. "Why do you think I was at his penthouse at 3 AM last night? To discuss tort law?"

Conrad hesitated. The TMZ video. It made sense.

Vivian turned to Caleb, who was walking past. "Caleb," she called out.

Caleb stopped, looking wary.

Vivian tossed her hair back, giving Caleb a look of pure, spoiled arrogance. "Tell Julian not to be so dramatic next time. He knows I bruise easily."

Caleb, trained to be the most discreet assistant in Manhattan, stiffened. He didn't confirm or deny. He simply gave a curt nod and kept walking, likely assuming she was just being her usual nightmare self.

To Conrad, that silence was confirmation.

Conrad's face turned purple. "He's sleeping with you? He's compromised."

"He's obsessed with me," Vivian corrected.

Conrad swore. "I can't trust him. If he's screwing you, he's screwing me."

He turned on his heel. "Let's go," he barked at his assistants. "We're finding another firm."

Conrad stormed out of the building.

Vivian let out a breath, her knees shaking. She had done it. She had bought herself time.

Caleb stopped by the elevator bank. He looked at Vivian. "Mr. Blackwood is watching the lobby feed," he said quietly.

Vivian looked up at the black dome of the security camera in the corner. She stared right into the lens.

Forty floors up, Julian sat at his desk, the coffee stain still on his collar. He watched the screen. He watched Vivian lie with the skill of a sociopath.

He touched the screen where her face was.

"Interesting," he murmured.