Flavia woke at 6:00 AM. Her internal clock was a relentless machine, unbothered by emotional trauma or lack of sleep. She had slept for three hours.

She dressed in a charcoal pencil skirt and a crisp white blouse. To Eliseo, this was her understated, professional attire. In reality, it was her armor for a day of forensic auditing at a failing biotech firm.

She walked out of the guest room.

Eliseo was asleep on the sofa. He was still wearing the stained shirt. One arm hung off the edge, his knuckles grazing the rug.

Flavia walked past him to the kitchen. Her heels on the marble floor were deliberate, loud.

Eliseo stirred. He groaned, bringing a hand up to shield his eyes from the morning light streaming through the windows. He sat up, wincing as a headache split his skull.

He saw Flavia's back. She was operating the espresso machine, her movements precise and mechanical.

"Good morning," he croaked. His voice was rough with sleep and hangover.

Flavia didn't turn around. She watched the dark liquid drip into the cup.

Eliseo felt a spike of irritation. He stood up, swaying slightly.

"I'm talking to you, Flavia."

She picked up her coffee and turned. She took a sip, her eyes scanning him from his messy hair to his ruined shoes.

"You should shower," she said. Her tone was conversational, polite.

Eliseo blinked. "What?"

Flavia walked toward the foyer. She paused as she passed him, leaning in slightly but not touching him.

"You smell like cheap perfume mixed with expired lies. It's nauseating."

The words hit him physically. He looked down at his shirt. The scent of the model-vanilla and musk-clung to him.

Shame flared hot in his chest, but his temper flared hotter. He reached out and grabbed her upper arm, spinning her around. He pinned her against the cool steel of the apartment's front door.

The contact was aggressive. His breathing was ragged.

"I was set up," Eliseo hissed through his teeth. "I already explained this. How long are you going to keep this up?"

Flavia didn't struggle. She didn't look afraid. She looked bored.

"Keep what up? I am stating facts."

Her indifference was maddening. He wanted a reaction. He wanted her to yell, to hit him, to show him that she cared enough to hate him.

"You think you're so perfect," Eliseo spat. "Who do you think you are? Without me, you'd still be in the country wearing discount clothes from Walmart."

Flavia's pupils contracted. The reference to her fabricated past-the poor country girl cover story she had so carefully constructed-struck a nerve, but not for the reason he thought. It reminded her of the role she had played, the indignity of it.

She pulled her arm from his grip. She smoothed the fabric of her sleeve, checking for wrinkles.

"Since you think so little of me, why did your grandfather insist on hiring my firm?"

Eliseo froze. It was the truth. Arthur had hired her firm, 'Lancaster Resolutions,' to clean up a family mess, and bringing her to New York under a cover story was part of the deal. But his pride wouldn't let him admit that now.

"Yeah," he sneered, leaning back. "At least you used to be obedient. Low maintenance."

Flavia felt the last thread of connection snap. It was a clean break.

She picked up her briefcase.

"Thank you for your honesty, Mr. Fitzpatrick."

She walked out the door.

Eliseo stood in the kitchen, the silence rushing back in to fill the space she left. He slammed his fist against the refrigerator door. The metal buckled, leaving a small, concave dent.

He lifted his wrist to his nose and sniffed his cuff. The cloying, sweet scent filled his nostrils. He gagged, rushing to the sink to dry heave.

Flavia sat at a desk that was too small, in an office that was too cluttered. This was BioGenix, a startup teetering on the edge of oblivion.

She wasn't a simple consultant here. She was the acting CFO and lead auditor. And she knew BioGenix wasn't just a biotech firm; it was a shell company used by the Fitzpatrick family to hide problematic assets. Her job was to find the leverage hidden in its books.

A stack of financial reports lay before her. She was hunting for a cash leak. Her eyes moved across the spreadsheets, identifying patterns that others missed.

Chloe, a junior researcher with purple hair, poked her head in. She was holding two coffees in styrofoam cups.

"Hey. How was the birthday? What did the Prince get you?"

Flavia looked up. She forced a smile.

"A surprise. It was... unforgettable. I'm still processing it."

Chloe sighed, leaning against the doorframe. "Must be nice. Meanwhile, we're all wondering if the paychecks are going to bounce next week."

Flavia looked back at the numbers. The cash flow situation was critical. If the company folded before she found the evidence, her primary leverage over the Fitzpatricks would vanish.

"I'm working on it, Chloe. Don't worry."

Across town, in the glass tower of Fitzpatrick Banking, Eliseo sat in his corner office. His assistant was droning on about quarterly projections, but Eliseo wasn't listening.

He was staring at his phone. Flavia hadn't texted. Usually, by noon, she sent a message. 'Have you reviewed the attached file?' 'Don't forget your call with the SEC.'

Today, nothing.

His desk phone rang. It was Carter.

Eliseo picked up the receiver.

"If you ever show your face to me again," Eliseo said, his voice devoid of emotion, "I will send the photos of what you did in Vegas to your father."

He slammed the phone down. It didn't make him feel better.

He opened his top drawer. Inside was a black velvet box. He took it out and flipped it open. A sapphire necklace glittered under the office lights. It had cost more than most people earned in a decade.

He felt a surge of self-righteous indignation. He had bought her a gift. He was the victim here.

Flavia was eating a dry sandwich in the BioGenix breakroom when her phone rang. It was the front desk.

"Mrs. Fitzpatrick? Your fiancé is here."

Flavia closed her eyes for a second. He knew where she worked-the cover story required it.

She went down to the lobby. The startup's office was in a converted warehouse in Brooklyn, a far cry from Manhattan.

Eliseo stood near the security desk. He was wearing a suit that cost more than the building's security system. People were staring.

Flavia walked over to him. She kept her distance.

"What are you doing here?"

Eliseo held out the velvet box.

"Happy Birthday. I'm late."

Flavia looked at the box. She didn't take it.

"Is this an apology, or hush money?"

Eliseo stepped closer, lowering his voice. "Don't make a scene, Flavia. Just take it."

She took the box. She opened it, looked at the stones, and snapped it shut. Her expression didn't change.

"It's beautiful. A suitable accessory for the role I'm playing."

She dropped the box into her tote bag, letting it fall among the pens and notepads.

"But I'm working. I don't have time to play happy family right now."

She turned around and walked toward the elevators. She didn't look back.

Eliseo stood there, stunned. He had expected gratitude. He had expected her to melt. Instead, he felt like he had just tried to bribe a judge and failed.

He watched her swipe her badge and disappear through the turnstiles. She looked different here. Sharper. Harder.

He walked back to his car. He sat in the driver's seat, gripping the steering wheel. A cold knot of anxiety formed in his stomach. He realized he didn't know the woman who had just walked away from him.

Flavia returned to the corporate apartment just as the sun was setting behind the Hudson. Her body ached with fatigue. The audit had revealed a massive embezzlement scheme at BioGenix, and she had spent the last four hours tracing wire transfers.

The elevator doors opened directly into the foyer.

The front door was ajar.

Flavia stopped. Her hand went to her keys, threading them through her fingers like brass knuckles. This building had biometric security.

She pushed the door open with her foot.

Inside, she heard the click of heels on the hardwood.

Sloane Kensington walked out of the kitchen. She was holding a glass of Eliseo's rare scotch. She was wearing nothing but a white dress shirt.

Eliseo's shirt.

Flavia recognized Sloane instantly. The socialite. The childhood friend. The woman who had been trying to get into Eliseo's bed for years.

"Oh," Sloane said, feigning surprise. "The hired help returns."

Flavia set her bag down. She didn't scream. She didn't attack.

"This is a private residence, Sloane. How did you get in?"

Sloane took a sip of the scotch, leaving a red lipstick stain on the rim. She dangled a key card from her pinky finger.

"Eliseo gave it to me ages ago. For emergencies."

It was a lie. Flavia knew this apartment was leased under her firm's name. Sloane must have charmed or bribed the new doorman.

Sloane plucked at the hem of the shirt. "I spilled wine on my dress. I had to borrow something. You don't mind, do you?"

It was a territorial pissing contest. Sloane was marking her ground.

Flavia looked at her. She looked at the shirt.

"I don't mind," Flavia said. "That's the shirt Eliseo was planning to throw out anyway. It had a stain."

Sloane's smile faltered. Her knuckles turned white around the glass.

She set the drink down and turned toward the hallway. "I'll just go check if Eliseo is back."

Flavia stepped into her path. She didn't touch her, but her presence was a wall.

"That is my bedroom."

Sloane leaned in. The smell hit Flavia-vanilla and musk. The exact same scent that had been on Eliseo's jacket this morning.

"It's only a matter of time," Sloane whispered. "Before the room is mine. Just like him."

Flavia felt bile rise in her throat. Not from jealousy, but from disgust. It was unsanitary.

She stepped aside.

"Be my guest."

Sloane blinked, confused by the surrender. She smirked and sashayed down the hall.

Flavia picked up her keys and her bag. She walked out of the apartment and pulled the door shut, locking it from the outside.

She stepped into the elevator and pressed the button for the lobby. She pulled out her phone and dialed the building's security desk.

"This is Flavia Lancaster in Penthouse A. There is an intruder in my apartment. Unauthorized entry. Please remove her immediately."

She hung up.

Flavia walked out of the building and hailed a cab. She gave the driver the address of a hotel in Midtown.

She checked her watch. Eliseo would be home in twenty minutes.