The rain was relentless. It fell in icy, diagonal sheets across the dark streets of Long Island.

Elodie walked down the empty sidewalk. Her high heels clicked unevenly against the wet pavement. The wind whipped her soaked hair across her face. The expensive silk dress clung to her skin, the dark red wine stain washed into a muddy, bruised purple by the rain. She was freezing. Her teeth chattered violently.

She stopped under a flickering streetlamp. Her fingers were numb as she pulled her phone from her Birkin bag. The screen was cracked, but it still worked.

She opened the Uber app. She requested a ride back to her penthouse in Manhattan.

A red warning box popped up on the screen. Payment Method Declined.

Elodie frowned. She deleted the black card and manually typed in the numbers of her American Express Platinum card.

She hit submit.

Transaction Denied. Please contact your banking institution.

A hollow laugh escaped her lips. Leland was fast. He hadn't just kicked her out; he had severed her financial arteries within minutes. He wanted her stranded in the rain. He wanted her to crawl back and beg.

A passing taxi hit a pothole. A wave of dirty street water splashed over Elodie's shins, ruining her suede heels.

She didn't flinch. She opened her contacts and dialed a number.

Thirty minutes later, the roar of an engine cut through the storm. A bright pink Porsche 911 screeched to a halt beside the curb.

The passenger door popped open.

Elodie climbed inside. The leather interior was warm and smelled of expensive vanilla perfume.

Tess Amory, Elodie's best friend since boarding school, sat behind the wheel. Tess pulled down her oversized Chanel sunglasses, despite it being pitch black outside. Her jaw dropped.

She stared at Elodie's soaked, stained dress. Then, her eyes locked onto the angry, red handprint swelling on Elodie's left cheek.

"Who hit you?" Tess asked. Her voice was deadly serious.

Elodie leaned her head back against the headrest. She closed her eyes. "My father."

As Tess merged the Porsche onto the highway toward Manhattan, Elodie told her everything. She spoke in a flat, detached voice. She told her about the catering uniform, the sapphire necklace, the smirk, and the slap.

Tess slammed her hand against the steering wheel. She unleashed a string of vicious curses aimed at Leland and Dani.

"You're moving into my guest room," Tess declared as the Manhattan skyline came into view. "I don't care what my parents say. You're staying with me."

Elodie opened her eyes. She shook her head. "No. Leland will threaten your father's supply chain if you harbor me. I won't do that to you."

Elodie unlatched her Birkin bag. Her hands were still shaking from the cold, but her movements were deliberate. She reached into the hidden zippered compartment at the back of the bag.

She pulled out a thick, folded document. The paper was slightly yellowed at the edges.

"What is that?" Tess asked, glancing over.

"When I turned eighteen, Grandmother Eleonora set up an independent trust for me," Elodie said softly. She traced the embossed seal on the paper. "Leland doesn't know about it. He has no legal access to it. It has cash, and the deeds to three unlisted properties."

Tess's eyes widened. A wicked grin spread across her face. "Eleonora was a genius. So, where are we going? The townhouse in Chelsea? The villa in the Hamptons?"

Elodie stared out the rain-streaked window. The neon lights of the city blurred together. Suddenly, an image flashed in her mind. Fletcher's cold, angry eyes from that morning. Dani's triumphant smirk in the dining room.

Dani wanted her life. Dani wanted her father. Dani wanted her boyfriend.

Elodie's fingers crushed the edge of the trust document. A fierce, burning heat ignited in her chest, chasing away the cold.

"Take me to SoHo," Elodie commanded. "To the industrial lofts on Mercer Street."

Tess slammed on the brakes, nearly causing a pileup. She turned to Elodie, horrified. "Are you insane? You're going to that broke loser's apartment? After he treated you like garbage this morning?"

"Dani wants to take everything from me," Elodie said. Her voice was pure steel. "She is not taking him."

Ten minutes later, the Porsche idled outside a grim, graffiti-covered brick building in SoHo. Elodie pushed the door open. She refused Tess's offer to walk her up.

She stepped into the dimly lit, foul-smelling elevator, filled with various odors, and watched the numbers on the elevator door rise little by little until she arrived.

She reached the heavy iron door with the peeling number '4B'.

She took a deep breath. Her ribs ached. She pressed the buzzer.

Heavy footsteps approached from the inside. The deadbolt clicked. The door swung open.

Fletcher stood in the doorway. He was wearing low-hanging gray sweatpants. His chest was bare, his skin damp with fresh water droplets from a shower. His dark hair was wet and messy.

He looked down. His eyes locked onto Elodie.

He saw the soaked, ruined dress. He saw her shivering frame. And then, his eyes snapped to the violent, purple-red bruise blooming across her cheek.

Fletcher's pupils dilated. A terrifying, violent darkness exploded in his eyes. His hands twitched at his sides, his knuckles instantly turning white. For a fraction of a second, he looked ready to murder someone.

But then, his jaw locked. He forcefully shoved the emotion down, burying it behind a wall of ice.

"What the hell are you doing here?" his voice was a low, gravelly rasp.

Elodie didn't answer. She ducked under his arm and pushed her way into the apartment. She walked straight to the worn leather sofa and dropped her Birkin bag onto the cushions.

She turned around. She lifted her chin, staring right into his cold eyes.

"I'm broke," Elodie said. Her voice didn't tremble. "My father cut me off. You're taking me in."

Fletcher slowly closed the heavy iron door. The lock clicked shut, sealing them inside the dim, drafty loft.

He turned around and stared at Elodie. She was standing in the middle of his living room, dripping wet, her ruined dress clinging to her body. She looked like a queen who had been dragged through the mud, yet she still held her chin high.

He walked past her, his bare arm brushing against her cold shoulder. He went straight to the kitchen island, opened the rattling refrigerator, and pulled out a bottle of ice water.

"Is this some kind of sick social experiment?" Fletcher asked. He unscrewed the cap and took a long drink. He didn't look at her. "The heiress wants to play poor for the weekend?"

Elodie's hands clenched into fists. She marched over to the kitchen island. She stopped inches away from him, forcing him to look down at her.

"I'm moving in," Elodie said, her voice hard and uncompromising. "And I have one condition. Tomorrow morning, you are going to fire Dani Nieves."

Fletcher's hand froze around the plastic water bottle. The plastic crinkled under his sudden, crushing grip. His eyes narrowed, turning into dark, dangerous slits.

He set the bottle down on the counter with a loud thud.

"You break into my apartment," Fletcher said, his voice dropping an octave, "and you think you can dictate my company's payroll?"

"She is a liar and a snake," Elodie spat, the venom thick in her throat. "She was at my house tonight, Fletcher. She set me up."

A flicker of genuine surprise crossed Fletcher's eyes, but it was gone in an instant. He quickly masked it with a cruel, mocking smile.

"Dani is a hard worker," Fletcher drawled, leaning his hip against the counter. "She actually contributes to society. Unlike some people whose only talent is throwing tantrums when they don't get their way."

The words hit Elodie like a physical slap. The injustice of it all-her father's betrayal, Dani's smirk, Fletcher's blind defense of that girl-boiled over.

She let out a frustrated scream and shoved him. She planted both hands flat against his bare chest and pushed with all her might.

Fletcher didn't move an inch. He was a solid wall of muscle.

Before she could pull her hands back, his hands shot out. He grabbed both of her wrists in a single, crushing grip. He yanked her forward.

Elodie crashed into his chest. The breath was knocked out of her lungs. Her wet clothes pressed against his hot skin.

Fletcher looked down at her. His chest heaved against hers. His eyes dropped to the ugly, swollen bruise on her cheek. The mocking smile vanished from his face.

Slowly, he released one of her wrists. He lifted his large, rough hand. His thumb gently, almost reverently, traced the edge of the bruise. His touch was feather-light, a shocking contrast to his violent grip moments before.

A violent shiver ripped through Elodie's spine. Tears pricked her eyes at the sudden, confusing tenderness.

She jerked her head away, breaking the contact. "Fire her," she whispered, her voice breaking.

Fletcher didn't answer. His eyes darkened until they were entirely black.

Suddenly, he bent down. He wrapped his arm around the back of her knees and hoisted her up.

Elodie shrieked as the world flipped upside down. She was thrown over his broad shoulder like a sack of flour.

"Put me down! You bastard!" Elodie screamed, kicking her legs wildly. She pounded her fists against his bare back.

Fletcher ignored her. He carried her across the loft and kicked the bedroom door open. He walked over to the large mattress on the floor and tossed her onto it.

Elodie bounced on the springs. Before she could scramble away, Fletcher was on top of her. He pinned her wrists to the mattress above her head. He caged her in with his body.

"You're in my house now," Fletcher growled, his face inches from hers. His hot breath fanned across her lips. "You don't give the orders here."

Elodie glared up at him, her chest heaving. "You're a coward," she hissed.

Fletcher's jaw locked. He lowered his head and crushed his mouth against hers.

It was a punishing, desperate kiss. It was filled with anger, confusion, and a terrifying, undeniable hunger. He swallowed her protests, his tongue invading her mouth, demanding complete surrender. Elodie fought him for exactly three seconds before her body betrayed her. Her hands uncurled, her fingers digging into his thick hair as she kissed him back with equal ferocity.

The next morning, Elodie woke up. The bed was empty. The sheets beside her were cold.

She sat up, her muscles aching. She looked at the nightstand.

There was a glass of water, and a small tube of expensive arnica swelling ointment. Underneath the tube was a yellow sticky note.

Stay in the apartment. Don't go anywhere. - F.

Elodie stared at the note. A small, triumphant smile touched her lips. The ointment was an olive branch. He had listened to her. He was going to fix it.

She reached for her phone. She opened the LinkedIn app. She typed in the name of Fletcher's startup. She clicked on the employee roster.

Her smile vanished. Her stomach plummeted into a bottomless pit.

There, right at the top of the company's recent updates feed, was a brand-new team photo. It was a post celebrating the beta launch. Dani was standing directly beside Fletcher, smiling brightly, their shoulders brushing. The caption underneath praised Dani for her "outstanding contribution and late-night dedication" to the project.

He hadn't fired her. He had used his body to shut Elodie up, and he had lied to her.

The digital clock on the microwave glowed bright red in the dark loft: 11:42 PM.

Elodie sat cross-legged on the worn leather sofa. She was wearing one of Fletcher's oversized gray cashmere sweaters. It swallowed her frame, smelling faintly of his cedarwood cologne.

She stared at the blank screen of her phone. Fletcher had texted her at six o'clock, saying he had a mandatory networking drinks event with potential investors. He promised to be back by nine.

It was almost midnight.

A sickening knot of anxiety twisted in her gut. She couldn't take the silence anymore. She unlocked her phone and dialed his private number.

The phone rang. And rang. And rang.

Just as it was about to go to voicemail, the line clicked open.

"Hello?"

The voice wasn't Fletcher's deep baritone. It was high-pitched. Sweet. Breathless.

It was Dani.

The blood drained from Elodie's face. A ringing sound started in her ears.

"Why do you have his phone?" Elodie asked. Her voice was terrifyingly calm, completely devoid of emotion.

Dani let out a soft, giggling sigh on the other end of the line. "Oh, hi Elodie. Fletcher had a little too much to drink. He left his jacket in my car. His phone was in the pocket. I'm just helping him upstairs right now."

Elodie didn't say another word. She pulled the phone away from her ear and hit end.

She threw her legs off the sofa. She grabbed the magnetic key fob from the kitchen counter and marched out the front door.

She stood in the dimly lit, freezing hallway. She stared at the digital numbers above the elevator doors.

1... 2... 3...

The numbers climbed. Her fingernails dug so deeply into her palms that the skin nearly broke.

Ding.

The heavy metal doors slid open.

A wave of stale alcohol and cheap, floral perfume rolled out of the elevator car.

Fletcher was leaning heavily against the back wall of the elevator. His eyes were closed. His tie was undone, hanging loosely around his neck. His suit jacket was missing.

Dani was plastered against his side. Her arm was wrapped tightly around his waist. Her hand was resting flat against his stomach.

Dani looked up and saw Elodie standing in the hallway. She gasped, her hand flying to her mouth in mock surprise.

"Oh! Elodie!" Dani chirped. She stepped out of the elevator, dragging Fletcher with her. "I didn't think you actually lived here. This place is so... gross. How does a princess like you survive?"

Elodie ignored her. She took two large steps forward. She reached out and grabbed Fletcher's left bicep. Her grip was like a vice.

She yanked him hard.

Fletcher stumbled forward, his heavy body weight shifting away from Dani and crashing into Elodie's shoulder. He groaned, his head lolling.

"Take your hands off him," Elodie commanded. Her blue eyes were burning with lethal intent as she glared at Dani.

Dani didn't back down. She smirked. She reached into her cheap purse and pulled out Fletcher's sleek black iPhone. She dangled it in the air between them.

"You shouldn't be so mad," Dani said, her voice dropping its sweet facade. "He was amazing tonight. He drank three shots of tequila just to save me from a creepy investor. He's very protective."

Every word was a physical knife stabbing into Elodie's chest. The pain was blinding. But she refused to bleed in front of this girl.

Elodie snatched the phone out of Dani's hand.

"You're an Uber driver," Elodie sneered, her voice dripping with aristocratic disdain. "A cheap, desperate designated driver who has to steal a drunk man's phone to feel important. Now get out."

Dani's face contorted. The mask of innocence shattered completely. Her eyes filled with pure, unadulterated hatred.

She leaned in close to Elodie. She lowered her voice to a venomous whisper.

"Your father threw you away like trash," Dani hissed. "And soon, Fletcher is going to throw you away too. You have nothing."

The words hit the deepest, rawest wound in Elodie's soul. Her vision went red. She raised her right hand, aiming a vicious slap directly at Dani's smirking face.

Before her hand could connect, a massive hand shot out of the air.

Fletcher's fingers clamped around Elodie's wrist like an iron shackle.

Elodie gasped. She looked up, her free hand instinctively flying to her opposite wrist, her thumb grinding against the cold diamonds of her tennis bracelet.

Fletcher's eyes were open. They were bloodshot and heavy with exhaustion, but the moment Dani had hissed those venomous words about her father throwing her away like trash, a violent spike of adrenaline had shattered his drunken haze. He hadn't been fully blacked out-just bone-tired and using the alcohol as a shield against the noise of the night. Now, his gaze was sharp, furious, and terrifyingly lucid.

"Are you done?" Fletcher barked. His voice was a harsh, guttural roar that echoed down the hallway.

Elodie stared at him in absolute horror. "You're defending her?" she whispered. Her voice broke. "You're defending the bastard who ruined my life?"

The word 'bastard' made Fletcher's expression harden with absolute disgust. His jaw locked. He violently shoved Elodie's hand away.

"I am sick of this," Fletcher snarled. He didn't look at either of them. He stumbled toward his apartment door. "Both of you. Get the hell out of my face."

He slammed the door behind him.

The sound echoed in the silent hallway.

Dani turned to Elodie. She let out a soft, victorious laugh. She adjusted her purse on her shoulder, gave Elodie one last pitying look, and stepped back into the elevator.

The doors closed, leaving Elodie standing alone in the freezing corridor. Her heart shattered into a million irreparable pieces.