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.

The air pressure inside the top-floor boardroom of the West Corporation headquarters was dangerously low.

Dalton sat at the head of the massive mahogany table. His face was carved from stone.

A massive holographic screen dominated the far wall, scrolling rapidly through live data from Twitter, Instagram, and every major gossip forum in the country.

Eleanor Vance, the Director of Public Relations, pushed her gold-rimmed glasses up her nose. Her hands shook slightly as she read from her tablet.

"Sir, the photo is blurry, but the internet is already crowdsourcing her identity," Eleanor reported nervously. "They are analyzing the brand of the coat and her physical proportions."

She swiped her screen, bringing up a screenshot on the main board. "Someone already identified the coat as your custom piece. There is currently a hundred-thousand-dollar bounty for anyone who can provide her real name."

Dalton's index finger tapped against the polished wood table. Tap. Tap. Tap. Every strike made the executives in the room flinch.

Eleanor swallowed hard and offered the standard corporate playbook. "I suggest we use a cold treatment. Ignore it. Or we issue a brief statement calling it a misunderstanding."

She looked at the financial data on her screen. "If we confirm an engagement, the stock price will fluctuate. The board hates uncertainty regarding the heir's marriage."

Dalton's finger stopped tapping. He raised his dark, piercing eyes and stared at Eleanor.

"No."

He stood up. His tall frame cast a long shadow over the table. He walked toward the holographic screen and pointed a long finger directly at the blurry photo of Audriana.

"Deploy every media asset we own," Dalton ordered, his voice leaving absolutely no room for debate. "Crush the trending topics. Wipe them off the servers."

He turned to the head of IT. "Block every search keyword related to her physical description."

Eleanor's jaw dropped. She stared at him in disbelief. This level of capital mobilization was reserved for national-level corporate disasters, not a tabloid rumor.

"Mr. West," Eleanor pleaded, trying to inject reason. "Burning this much capital for an unidentified woman is highly irrational-"

Dalton snapped his head toward her. His eyes were like drawn blades, slicing right through her.

"She is not an unidentified woman," Dalton said, pronouncing every word with lethal precision. "She is my future wife."

A collective gasp echoed around the boardroom. The executives finally understood. The tyrant had drawn his bottom line.

Eleanor immediately dropped her gaze. "Understood, sir. Executing now."

Dalton wasn't finished. "If any media outlet continues to dig into this, trigger the legal department. Hit them with bankruptcy lawsuits under the Bankruptcy Code. Bury them in litigation."

"Meeting adjourned," Dalton snapped.

The executives scrambled out of their leather chairs, wiping cold sweat from their foreheads as they rushed out to execute the insane orders.

Only Simon remained in the room. He walked up to Dalton and handed him a thin manila folder.

"Her background check, sir. Including her class schedule at Columbia University and her daily routine."

Dalton opened the folder. His eyes scanned the pages. He saw the three part-time jobs she worked. He saw the medical bills for Kimora's eyes. His chest tightened painfully.

In his past life, he had thought she was just another gold digger. He had never bothered to look at the crushing weight she carried on her small shoulders.

He closed the folder. He shut his eyes and took a deep breath, forcing the suffocating guilt back down into his gut.

"Call the best ophthalmologist at Johns Hopkins," Dalton ordered Simon. "Get them to New York."

Dalton's private cell phone buzzed in his pocket. He pulled it out. The caller ID showed the head of the West family elders. They were calling about the engagement rumors.

A cruel, mocking smile touched Dalton's lips. He hit the red decline button.

He grabbed his suit jacket off the back of the chair. It was time to deal with Cordelia.

The black Maybach's tires crunched aggressively over the gravel driveway of the West family's Long Island estate.

Dalton stepped out of the car. He walked through the massive front doors and strode directly into the vintage, wood-paneled study.

Cordelia Van der Bilt was already sitting on the velvet sofa. She wore a pristine Chanel haute couture suit, holding a bone china teacup with the perfect posture of a high-society queen.

She offered a tight, condescending smile. "Dalton. Who is the shameless little tramp in the news?"

Dalton didn't sit down. He stood over her, his massive presence dominating the room. His eyes were completely devoid of warmth.

"Correct your vocabulary," Dalton said, his voice dropping to a dangerous register. "That is my fiancée. The only one I acknowledge."

Cordelia's smile shattered. The teacup rattled violently against the saucer in her hand.

She slammed the cup down and stood up. "Are you insane? Our marriage was decided by the board! It secures a ten-billion-dollar energy contract!"

Dalton scoffed. He walked over to the heavy oak desk, picked up a thick file folder, and tossed it onto the glass coffee table right in front of her.

"Read it."

It was a highly classified financial audit. It detailed the massive, catastrophic losses the Van der Bilt family had secretly suffered in European markets.

Cordelia's eyes scanned the top page. All the color drained from her face. She looked up at Dalton, her mouth opening and closing in pure shock.

"Your family is an empty shell," Dalton stated ruthlessly. "You have no leverage to negotiate with me."

He adjusted his cufflink, asserting total control. "The nominal engagement is void. The West Coast morning papers will run the cancellation statement tomorrow."

Cordelia completely lost her composure. The perfect socialite mask cracked.

"You can't do this!" she screamed, her voice shrill. "The elders will impeach you!"

Dalton took one step forward. The sheer, suffocating pressure radiating from him forced Cordelia to stumble backward.

"If I ever hear you use a derogatory word to describe Audriana again," Dalton warned, his voice a lethal whisper, "I will bury your entire family."

Cordelia saw the genuine, unfiltered murder in his dark eyes. She collapsed back onto the sofa, her body trembling uncontrollably.

Dalton looked at her with pure disgust. He turned and walked out of the study, refusing to waste another second on her.

Simon was waiting in the grand hallway. "Sir, the statement is ready to publish."

Simon hesitated. "But this will humiliate the Van der Bilts. They play dirty. This might put a target on Miss Christensen's back."

Dalton stopped dead in his tracks. His eyes darkened. Simon was right. High-society women were venomous.

"Where is she right now?" Dalton demanded.

Simon checked his tablet. "She has a class at Columbia University. It ends in two hours."

Dalton glanced at his watch.

At that exact moment, on the campus of Columbia University, Audriana was walking quickly down the tree-lined path. Her stomach was tied in knots.

Students were pointing and whispering as she passed. The trending topics had been wiped from the internet, but the screenshots were still spreading like wildfire on the private campus forums.

Her best friend, Paige Carpenter, ran up and grabbed her arm, pulling her behind a large brick building.

"Audriana, what the hell is going on?" Paige asked, her eyes wide with worry. "Why are you linked to Dalton West?"

Audriana bit her lower lip hard. "It's a horrible mistake, Paige. I'm trying to fix it."

A sharp, piercing laugh echoed behind them.

Audriana turned around. Blair Kenna, the queen bee of the campus and Cordelia's closest friend, was blocking their path. Two massive bodyguards flanked her.