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.