Audriana fell backward.

Dalton's arm shot out. He caught her by her narrow waist, his strong grip stopping her fall instantly. He pulled her flush against his hard chest.

She slumped against him, too weak to stand. Her face was as pale as a sheet of paper, and a cold sweat coated her forehead.

Dalton didn't hesitate. He scooped her up into his arms, carrying her easily as he walked toward the expansive living room.

He lowered her onto the Italian leather sofa. His movements were painstakingly slow, treating her as if she were made of fragile glass that would shatter at the slightest jolt.

Audriana immediately tried to push herself up. She pulled the edges of the cashmere coat tightly around her neck, her eyes wide and filled with raw defense.

"Why did you lie to them?" she asked, her voice shaking uncontrollably. "Why did you say I was your fiancée?"

Dalton walked to the kitchen island. He poured a glass of warm water and walked back, holding it out to her. His deep eyes locked onto hers, hiding the agonizing memories of his past life.

"It was the only way to kill the story," Dalton said, his voice completely rational and detached. "It protects your reputation."

Audriana took the glass. The warmth of the water seeped into her freezing fingers, bringing back a tiny sliver of clarity. But her guard remained high.

She set the glass down on the glass coffee table. She forced her shaking legs to support her as she stood up.

"Thank you," she said, her voice tight. "But I need to leave the hotel right now."

Dalton's brow furrowed into a sharp V. He stepped directly into her path. His massive frame blocked her completely, an immovable mountain in the center of the room.

"There are at least thirty paparazzi swarming the main lobby right now," Dalton said coldly. "Walking out there is suicide."

Audriana bit her lower lip hard, the pain keeping her focused. "I can take the service elevator. Or the back exit."

Dalton took a step forward. He breached her personal space. The sheer physical dominance radiating from him made her instinctively take a step back.

He pulled out his phone and tapped the screen. He held it up to her face.

The live security feeds of the hotel lobby played on the screen. Every single exit, every service door, was completely blocked by men holding cameras.

The brutal reality crushed Audriana's last hope. Her shoulders slumped. She collapsed back onto the leather sofa and buried her face in her hands.

Dalton looked down at her defeated posture. His hands curled into tight fists at his sides. His fingernails dug into his palms as he fought the desperate urge to pull her into his arms.

He forced his voice to soften.

"You take the master bedroom tonight," Dalton said. "I'll sleep out here on the sofa."

Audriana's head snapped up. She stared at him in shock. The ruthless Wall Street tyrant the media always talked about was offering to sleep on a couch for a stranger.

She looked at Dalton's imposing height-he was easily six-foot-three-and then looked at the sleek, modern sofa. It was far too small for him. She hesitated.

Dalton didn't give her a chance to argue. He turned his back to her and walked straight to the wet bar. He poured two fingers of neat whiskey into a crystal glass.

"Go wash up and go to sleep," Dalton ordered, his back still turned. "Lock the door."

The sudden coldness in his voice startled her. Exhaustion was pulling her under, and she had no fight left. She gave in.

She dragged her heavy feet toward the master bedroom. She stepped inside and pushed the door shut.

Click.

The sound of the lock turning echoed in the quiet penthouse. Dalton's heart physically ached at the sound of her locking him out.

He walked over to the floor-to-ceiling windows. He stared out at the glittering Manhattan skyline. His eyes darkened, the cold rationality replaced by a vicious, predatory glare.

He threw his head back and downed the whiskey in one gulp. The alcohol burned his throat, but it was nothing compared to the rage boiling in his blood.

He walked over to the sofa. He ripped his silk tie off and tossed it onto the coffee table. He lowered his massive frame onto the cushions, his long legs hanging awkwardly off the edge.

The strip of light under the bedroom door vanished. She was in bed. The tight knot in Dalton's chest finally loosened a fraction.

In the dark, his phone screen lit up.

A text from Simon: Chadwick Kowalski is secured in the holding room.

Dalton's thumbs moved quickly over the screen, typing out his next order. He hit send. The players from his past life were all moving into position. The game was just beginning.

Rain lashed against the floor-to-ceiling windows. It was 2:00 AM in Manhattan.

Dalton shifted his weight on the narrow sofa, the leather creaking under him. He couldn't sleep. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw Audriana's lifeless eyes from his past life. The nightmare refused to let him go.

He sat up abruptly. He ran a frustrated hand through his messy hair and stood up, walking straight toward the outdoor terrace.

The freezing wind and sharp rain hit his face. Dalton pulled a cigar from his case and lit it. The red cherry glowed fiercely in the pitch-black night.

He forced his mind to focus on the timeline. The attacks on his company were about to begin, orchestrated by the last person anyone would suspect. The first domino was already falling.

Dalton blew a thick cloud of smoke into the rain. His eyes were dead and cold. This time, he was going to crush the invisible enemy until there was nothing left but dust.

Inside the master bedroom, Audriana was also wide awake. Her eyes were red and swollen as she stared blankly at the dark ceiling.

The phone on the nightstand suddenly vibrated violently against the wood.

The screen lit up the dark room. The caller ID flashed: Chadwick.

Audriana stared at the name. The name that used to bring her comfort now made her stomach churn with disgust.

She took a deep, shaky breath. She swiped her finger across the glass and pressed the phone to her ear. She didn't say a word.

Chadwick's panicked, hushed voice immediately spilled through the speaker.

"Audriana, baby, listen to me. Tonight was a setup. It's a huge misunderstanding!"

He kept talking, his voice dripping with fake desperation. "I was tricked! I didn't know that drink was spiked. You have to forgive me, please!"

Audriana listened to the pathetic lies. An invisible hand squeezed her lungs, making it hard to breathe. The pain was dull but suffocating.

She cut him off. Her voice was hoarse, but the tone was absolute steel.

"We are done."

Chadwick's tone shifted instantly. The panic vanished, replaced by a nasty, vicious sneer.

"If you dump me," Chadwick threatened, "I'll go to the press. I'll tell everyone about your little sister. I'll tell them how desperate you are for her medical money."

Audriana's eyes widened. The mention of Kimora hit her like a live wire. Her sadness evaporated, instantly replaced by a fierce, protective rage.

"If you touch one hair on Kimora's head," Audriana hissed, her voice trembling with fury, "I will make you regret you were ever born."

She didn't wait for his response. She pulled the phone away, ended the call, and permanently blocked his number.

The adrenaline crashed. Her entire body went limp. She pulled her knees up to her chest, wrapped her arms around her legs, and buried her face in the duvet.

A muffled, broken sob echoed in the large, empty bedroom. She was mourning the two years she had wasted on a monster.

He turned away from the railing and walked back inside, the freezing silence of the penthouse unnerving him. As he crossed the living room in long strides and passed the master bedroom door, a faint, muffled sound stopped him in his tracks. Crying.

His hand stopped mid-air. The ash from his cigar broke off, falling onto the expensive hardwood floor.

He pivoted slowly, his chest tightening as he stopped right in front of the master bedroom door. His hand reached out and gripped the cold metal handle.

He wanted to go in. He wanted to pull her into his arms and take the pain away.

But he stopped. He didn't push the handle down. His rational mind screamed at him that walking in now would only humiliate her further. She needed to grieve.

Dalton slowly let go of the handle. He leaned his broad shoulder against the doorframe. He stood there in the dark, separated by a single piece of wood, listening to her cry for half an hour.

Slowly, the sobs faded. Her breathing leveled out into the steady rhythm of sleep.

Dalton pulled his phone from his pocket. He opened the text thread with Simon.

Find every single debt Chadwick Kowalski owes. Buy them all. Bankrupt him by morning.

He walked back to the sofa and sat down. His dark eyes locked onto the bedroom door, burning with a heavy, obsessive possessiveness.

Hours passed. The sky outside turned a pale, bruised purple. The first light of dawn broke through the clouds, spilling into the penthouse.

A tiny, almost silent click came from the bedroom door.

Audriana was leaving.

Audriana pushed the heavy bedroom door open an inch at a time, terrified of making a sound.

She stepped into the living room. Her eyes immediately found Dalton. He was asleep on the small sofa, his massive frame curled up awkwardly. A deep crease lined his forehead, even in sleep.

She walked softly toward the coffee table. She hesitated for a second, then picked up the folded cashmere throw blanket resting on the armchair. She draped it gently over Dalton's broad shoulders.

Dalton inhaled deeply in his sleep. The faint scent of vanilla reached him. The tight crease between his eyebrows miraculously smoothed out.

Audriana grabbed a pen and a piece of hotel stationery from the desk. She scribbled a fast line across the paper and pinned it down with an empty water glass.

She looked at the dangerous man who had saved her life one last time. She turned around and walked out the door without looking back.

Two hours later, Dalton's eyes snapped open.

He sat up instantly. The blanket slid off his chest. The empty penthouse felt suffocating. His eyes darted to the coffee table and locked onto the piece of paper under the glass.

He snatched it up.

Thank you for your help. I will dry-clean the coat and mail it back to you.

Dalton stared at the polite, distant words. A bitter smile touched the corner of his mouth. He carefully folded the small piece of paper and slid it into the inner pocket of his suit jacket.

He pulled out his phone and called Simon. His voice was freezing.

"I want his expulsion processed by noon. Have the notice on my desk."

Miles away, Audriana sat on a rattling subway train. She finally walked up the cracked steps of her cheap apartment building in Brooklyn.

She pushed the squeaky door open. The familiar, faint smell of damp mildew hit her nose.

Hearing the door, a young girl in a faded nightgown stepped out of the bedroom. A white cloth was tied securely over her eyes.

It was Kimora Goodman, her half-sister, who had lost her sight in a car crash.

"Audriana? Is that you?" Kimora asked, her voice soft and sweet.

Audriana forced her exhausted facial muscles to smile. She dropped her bag and rushed over, gently holding Kimora's arms.

"I'm here," Audriana lied smoothly. "I stayed at the library too late and crashed at a friend's dorm."

Kimora nodded obediently. She reached out and grabbed Audriana's forearm, holding on tight. She looked completely helpless and dependent.

Audriana looked at the white cloth covering her sister's eyes. A fierce determination flared in her chest. She had to save enough money for the cornea transplant.

Kimora suddenly tilted her head. She gripped Audriana's arm a little tighter and sniffed the air.

"Why do you smell like men's cologne?" Kimora asked innocently.

Audriana's heart skipped a beat. She bit her lower lip, her mind racing. "The subway was packed. I must have brushed up against someone."

Kimora didn't press the issue. She lowered her head. Audriana let out a quiet breath of relief, her heart still hammering against her ribs from the close call. She gently patted her sister's shoulder, vowing silently to protect this fragile peace at all costs.

Audriana guided Kimora to the couch and walked into the cramped bathroom. She stared at her pale, exhausted face in the cracked mirror.

She turned on the faucet and splashed freezing water onto her face, trying to wash away the nightmare of the hotel.

Her phone, sitting on the edge of the sink, suddenly vibrated. A news alert popped up on the screen. Then another. Then five more in rapid succession.

Audriana dried her hands and picked up the phone. She looked at the screen. The blood in her veins turned to ice.

Twitter trending 1: Wall Street Tyrant Dalton West's Mystery Fiancée Exposed!

Beneath the headline was a blurry photo from the hotel hallway. It showed Dalton wrapping his massive coat around her. Her face was hidden, but her distinct height and hair color were visible.

The phone slipped from her numb fingers and clattered onto the bathroom tiles.

Her quiet life was over.