“You don’t owe me an explanation, Miss Enzogrande. You owe yourself one." Ethan’s lips curved faintly, "Because every choice you make ripples beyond the moment. The question is whether you’re certain the evidence that pushed you to rescind that contract was as unshakable as it appeared.”The words struck with the quiet weight of inevitability. Valentina’s eyes hardened, her lashes narrowing the intensity of her gaze, though her heartbeat betrayed her cool mask.She crossed her legs slowly, deliberately—an act of defiance in a room where Ethan already controlled the tempo.“I don’t gamble with the Enzogrande name,” she replied, her tone aristocratic. “The information was solid.”Ethan leaned forward, resting his elbows lightly on the table,“Solid,” he repeated softly. “Or convenient?”Her smile faltered, the faintest sign of agitation flashing across her face. She was not used to being challenged—certainly not like this. “What exactly are you suggesting, Mr. Wirtkov?”“That someone,”

The air in the Robbins estate was still thick with panic when Ethan walked in. He had removed Ahmad’s masterful disguise earlier that morning, shedding the polished visage of Wirtkov King and slipping back into the skin of the poor, ordinary Ethan everyone thought him to be. The contrast was jarring—just last night he was power cloaked in mystery; now, he was the man most of them dismissed as unworthy.The sight that greeted him froze him in place. Grandfather Robbins sat slumped in his chair, pale and weak, his breathing shallow though steadier than before. Emma was crouched beside him, one hand braced against his arm, her face taut with fear she was trying to mask. Around her, the rest of the family clustered in a semicircle of despair and exhaustion—Leif with eyes red-rimmed from panic, Chloe wiping tears with the back of her hand, Aunt Rose still rubbing the old man’s shoulder, Lizzy standing rigid with clenched fists.Ethan’s brow furrowed immediately. “What happened?” His voic

Later that same day, while Ethan was all alone by himself, he began to replay Chloe’s words again and again in his mind like an echo that refused to fade. No woman in her right mind would ever love someone like you. For a lesser man, those words would have been poison, corroding confidence and leaving only ashes of self-doubt. But Ethan was not a lesser man. He had grown used to Chloe's venom, and this time, instead of breaking him, it sparked something far more dangerous.His lips curled slowly, the kind of smile that was more blade than warmth. Chloe, in her arrogance, had handed him the perfect weakness: her pride. She thought herself untouchable, untamable, a goddess in her own world. She believed love, affection, and attention were her tools to wield and discard.Ethan decided, it was time to turn that weapon against her.The Enzogrande contract loomed ahead, a storm cloud heavy with opportunity. He had seven days to reclaim what everyone thought he had already lost. But why s

Chloe’s eyes flew open the next morning to a brightness that stabbed through her lashes like knives. Her head throbbed, her mouth dry, but it wasn’t the lingering weight of alcohol that made her sit upright with a sharp gasp.It was her body.She was bare beneath the sheets, her skin pressing against the cool silk, her only shield the blanket wrapped tightly around her curves. Panic clawed at her chest as her mind struggled to string together the fragments of last night—the private lounge, the laughter and drinks, the penetrating gaze of Wirtkov King that had left her trembling, powerless and undone.But then, nothing else but a complete void.Her hands clenched the sheet tighter, knuckles whitening as a cold rush of fear slid down her spine. What had happened while her memory betrayed her? Had she really—?Then she heard it.The faint but steady hiss of water. The shower.Her breath caught, heartbeat accelerating as her eyes snapped toward the closed door of the adjoining restroom.

La Rossa was alive with low murmurs and the delicate clinking of crystal glasses when Ethan stepped through its gilded doors. The chandeliers overhead spilled golden light across velvet drapes, mahogany walls, and tables dressed in flawless white linen. The scent of truffle, wine, and fresh roses mingled in the air, heavy with exclusivity.Heads turned. Conversations faltered. The presence of Wirtkov King was not one that could be ignored.Valentina Enzogrande was already there draped in emerald silk, a gown cut to command attention without needing to beg for it. Diamonds glittered at her ears, but it was her poise—the effortless stillness of a queen accustomed to being revered—that made every gaze linger. She didn’t rise to meet him. She didn’t have to. Her presence alone bent the room in her favor.Ethan, however, was unmoved. He walked toward her with the composure of a man immune to intimidation. When he reached the table, he inclined his head briefly, the faintest gesture of res