The encrypted phone vibrated three times before Lucas Reed silenced it.President Volkov could wait. So could the sixteen governors camped outside his headquarters. So could the military generals, the senators, the heads of state—all of them begging for an audience with a man the world knew only as a shadow.Tonight, Lucas had more important business: surviving his anniversary.He stood at the servant's entrance of Ashford Mansion, delivery bag over his shoulder, velvet box burning in his pocket. Six years of this. Six years of being invisible while commanding an empire that could buy this entire city before breakfast. Six years of keeping a promise to a dead man who'd once saved his life.Six more days. Then the world would remember who Lucas Reed really was."Absolutely not!" Helen, the head maid, blocked the door with her bulk. Behind her, the charity gala blazed with crystal and champagne—two hundred of the city's elite celebrating their wealth while Lucas played delivery boy."I

The soapy water was cold, but not as cold as the look in Lucas Reed's eyes when he calculated exactly how much it would cost to destroy Vivian Ashford.Approximately $47 million. Maybe less if he was efficient."You missed a spot," Vivian said, pointing with one manicured finger. Her friends—four women in clothes that cost more than most people's cars—giggled behind their mimosas like this was theater.It was. Just not the show they thought they were watching.Lucas scrubbed the marble floor on his hands and knees, playing the broken servant while his encrypted phone vibrated against his ribs. Probably Dustin reporting that another senator had arrived at headquarters begging for an audience. Probably another crisis that could reshape global politics.Could wait. Lucas had a floor to clean."Honestly, Vivian, I don't know how you stand it." Gloria Pemberton—Senator Pemberton's wife—wrinkled her nose. "Having him underfoot like this.""Oh, it's not so bad." Vivian sipped champagne that

Victoria couldn't stop seeing it—the way Lucas's face had changed in that gallery, that ghost of a smile when the artist spoke to him.She threw her phone across the bedroom. It bounced off the wall and clattered to the floor."What's wrong?" Derek looked up from his laptop, the platinum SR card spinning between his fingers like a nervous habit."Nothing." Everything. That smile. Six years of marriage and Lucas had never smiled at her like that. Like he was human. Like he remembered how.Derek wasn't listening anyway. He'd been staring at that card for an hour, making call after call, his voice getting quieter and his face getting paler with each conversation."Who did you talk to?" Victoria asked."Hmm?""About the card. Who did you call?""Nobody. Doesn't matter." But his hand shook as he set down the card. "Your mother wants to see us. Downstairs. Now."Vivian held court in the dining room, surrounded by papers and her phone and a smile that made Victoria's stomach turn. That smile

The nametag said "THE GOLD DIGGER" in letters big enough to read from across the room.Lucas stood in the servant's bathroom, staring at his reflection. They'd given him a waiter's uniform—cheap polyester that smelled like mothballs—and pinned the nametag over his heart like a scarlet letter. His face was still bruised from yesterday's beating. His ribs still screamed with every breath.Five hundred guests were arriving. The media was setting up cameras. And Lucas Reed was about to be crucified for entertainment.He touched the nametag. Felt the cheap plastic. Six years of humiliation distilled into three mocking words.Tonight, they'd learn the cost of those words."Get OUT here!" Vivian's voice echoed down the hallway. "Guests are arriving and I need you serving drinks!"Lucas left the bathroom. Walked through the kitchen where caterers pretended not to see him. Picked up a tray of champagne glasses. Stepped into the ballroom that had been transformed into a execution chamber dresse