The midday heat beat down on the marble-paved promenade of the Sovereign Promenade—the most exclusive luxury strip in the entire coastal capital.Sloane stumbled past the velvet-roped boutiques, her broken heel clicking unevenly against the polished stone. Sweat made her cheap navy dress cling to her back, and her throat was very dry. Every wealthy shopper passing by—women carrying expensive bags and accompanied by personal bodyguards—stepped far around her, looking at her as if she were dirty.Let them stare, Sloane thought, her fingernails pressing into the leather of her clutch, where the torn repudiation document was hidden. None of these shallow women know what it feels like to have a real man lay the world at your feet. They just get his scraps.She stopped in front of the three-story glass front of Maison d'Or, the jewelry house that served only the top twenty families of the continent.In the center display case was one special old piece: the Azure Phoenix Brooch.It was made

The key felt heavy and cold in Sloane’s sweaty palm as she stood outside the double doors of Suite 901.The Grand Celestia was the oldest luxury hotel in the diplomatic quarter. Unlike the modern glass towers Riven owned across the bay, this building was filled with old family wealth—thick red carpets, heavy bronze fixtures, and private security guards at every elevator who carried hidden guns under their suits.Sloane took a shaky breath, turned the key in the lock, and pushed the door open.The suite was huge and dim, lit by a single desk lamp. The large windows looked out over the glowing harbor, where Riven’s superyacht was still moored beneath the evening lights.An elderly man sat in a high-backed leather chair near the window. He wore a traditional dark coat. His silver hair was neatly combed back, and a walking cane rested across his lap.Beside the desk, kneeling on the wooden floor with his wrists tied behind his back, was Julian.Julian’s face was bruised, with dried blood

Vanessa's open hand swung through the air, aimed straight at Sloane's face.Smack!A loud crack echoed through the room, but it wasn't Sloane's face that was hit.Riven had caught Vanessa’s wrist in midair with his bare hand. His grip wasn't tight, but it was as strong as iron. Vanessa stopped, her chest rising and falling inside her dark evening dress, her green eyes wide with shock as she looked down at him."Riven?" Vanessa gasped, her voice shaking with anger. "Look at your desk! Look at the metal burning right in front of you! This woman tried to kill you! Let me have the guards break her legs and throw her into the sea!"Sloane curled up beside the bottom of the desk, her forehead pressed against the rug. Her whole body was shaking."I didn't know..." Sloane cried, her fingers gripping the carpet. "Riven, I swear to God I didn't know! The old man told me it was just medicine to make you sleep for three days! He said it would make you sign the papers... he said they wouldn't hurt

Sloane’s shoe sole flapped loose with every step she took on the wet road.The supply boat had dropped her at the mainland freight docks before sunrise. She had walked three miles through the damp fog to reach the southern market district, her stomach twisting with sharp hunger pains. In her pocket was the same amount Linnea had calculated: twelve credits and sixty cents.She stopped in front of an old food cart under a bridge where low-paid dock workers were lining up for breakfast.The smell of pork, roasted scallions, and pepper oil came from the grill. Her mouth filled with saliva."Two meat buns and a cup of black bean milk," Sloane said, stepping up to the counter.The cart owner, an old man with flour on his apron, barely looked up. He wrapped two hot buns in paper, put them in a plastic bag, and placed a cup beside them."Four credits," the man said, holding out his hand.Sloane pulled out her wet bills and coins, counting four credits into his hand.She took the warm bag and

The iron pipe slipped from Sloane’s fingers and landed in the dirt with a dull thud.Her arms were shaking so badly that she could barely hold them up. Black motor oil covered her forehead, and she was breathing hard. For a long moment, she couldn't move.Riven stepped forward, his shoes crunching over the gravel and broken glass. He didn't look at the crushed Mercedes still smoking under the crane magnet. His dark eyes stayed on Sloane, calm and steady.Linnea walked two steps behind him. She was tapping on her screen, her face showing clear disgust as she looked at the wrecked car and then at Sloane's dirty clothes."Julian Vance didn't plan this alone," Linnea said in a sharp, business-like voice. "Elder Caelum's remaining contacts in the city paid for the crew. They wanted to steal the Zenchip core units to hurt the morning stock listing. Patriarch, the harbor patrol stopped the flatbed at the turnpike two minutes ago. The cores are safe."Riven nodded once but didn't look back at