Warning: Mentioned Abortion, minor violenceMartin Clarke was Dominique’s oldest friend; they went back years in Manhattan's elite circles.Erick was still holding on tight, trying not to lose his cool. "I'm here with my wife," he said.“Your wife?” Martin repeated mockingly. He stood and leaned close enough that only Erick could hear him. "Back when we were dating... I remember everything about Dominique. Every single detail."Erick shoved his hands into his pockets. Martin Clarke leaned in closer, his voice still low. "Dominique used to hate places like this," he said, glancing around the boutique. " Then she preferred dive bars and cheap diners. Funny how people change," he said.Erick did not remember deciding to swing at Martin Clarke. One second Martin Clarke was talking, and the next, he was on the floor holding his face. Blood poured from his nose. The velvet box flew open. A blue sapphire necklace skittered across the ground."YOU PSYCHO!" Martin Clarke screamed, clutching hi

After breakfast, Erick waited until the last car disappeared down the driveway before slipping out of the Laurent residence. He couldn't risk any of the servants noticing he was gone.A black sedan idled in the alley behind the building. The rear window rolled down. Ivan looked the same, except sharper around the eyes. The old scar on his left hand hadn’t changedEight years as his head of security, and the man still had the same scar cutting across the back of his left hand. They rarely spoke outside of missions, but Ivan had never failed to show up when called.Erick climbed into the back seat. The car pulled away before he'd even closed the door.Erick got in. The car sped off before his door fully closed. "You look like trash," Ivan said in Russian. "English only," Erick said. Ivan smirked. "Five years playing house servant, and this is what's left? Getting bitched at by maids?"Ivan lit a cigarette. "I know about the baby. Aria told me. Sorry, Boss." Erick's jaw flexed. "

The Horizon Lounge took up the entire 47th floor. Floor-to-ceiling windows looked out over Manhattan, and the lighting was low enough to make everyone look better than they deserved. Vanessa’s divorce party was already in full swing by the time Erick arrived.He spotted Dominique near the bar, laughing at something Martin Clarke had said. She had one hand resting lightly on his arm. They looked comfortable together. Natural.Erick loosened his tie a fraction and moved further into the room.Vanessa spotted him first. Her red dress caught the light as she waved him over, a little too enthusiastically.“Erick! You actually came.” She leaned in and kissed his cheek, leaving a trace of perfume and wine. “Dominique said you might skip it. Still sulking about that video?”“I’m here,” he said simply.She patted his chest, letting her hand linger. “You clean up well. It’s almost unfair that Domi keeps you hidden away.” Her voice dropped playfully. “If I were her, I wouldn’t make that mistake.

By late afternoon, Erick was back at the Laurent estate. He entered through the side gate wearing a tailored black suit. The staff gave him curious glances — they weren’t used to seeing him dressed like this.Mrs. Hollis met him in the hallway, her voice low. “They’ve been setting things up all day. I think they’re planning to humiliate you again tonight.”Erick nodded. “I know.”He went to his room and checked his messages. Aria had sent an update:[Victor and Martin are coordinating. They’ll use the gala to declare you dead and push the narrative.]Erick typed back: [Let them start the show.]The door opened without a knock. Dominique stepped in. She stopped when she saw him in the suit.“You’re actually coming?” she asked, sounding surprised.“I said I would.”She studied him for a moment. “You clean up well.”Erick adjusted his cuff. “It’s just a suit.”Dominique crossed her arms. “Grandma wants to see you before the gala. She’s at The Pierre, room 401. Something about the divorce

The nearby guests exchanged nervous glances.Claire Laurent gripped her cane so tightly her knuckles turned white. Her sharp eyes remained fixed on Erick, suspicion growing."Who," she asked slowly, her icy voice cutting through the ballroom, "is Quade?"Senior executives near the back stiffened.Leroy stepped forward, forcing a calm smile. "Ma'am," he said softly, "he's not here. Victor's been under pressure lately—the markets, the board, company affairs...clearly, it's been too much."Claire sharply waved him away. "Then answer it." Her gaze never left Erick.Remi stood near the champagne tower, watching silently. Unlike the others, she didn't seem shocked.Evelyn kept nervously glancing between Victor and the growing crowd of wealthy guests, pretending not to eavesdrop. "Leroy," she whispered urgently, "do something before this turns into a disaster."But Claire stepped forward slowly. "For years," she said coldly, "I've heard that name whispered in private rooms by wealthy men who