The day Elias took the fall for me, we had just turned twenty. Through the visitor's glass, he smiled, his eyes pinning me. "Elena. Wait for me." I nodded, my throat too tight to speak. The moment he was gone, I became the blade he’d left behind. I threw my acceptance letter to Johns Hopkins in the trash. I dove into the underworld, playing chess with monsters, living on a razor's edge for ten years. By the time he was paroled, I’d built an empire. I scrubbed his record. I laundered every dollar. I handed him the keys to a clean, legitimate corporation, and he became Mr. Elias Thorne, a man to be feared. I was late to the jeweler—I’d been cleaning up one of his messes. When I walked in, I saw her. A young, fragile-looking woman, wearing my diamond. The one he had designed. One of his new flunkies was fawning over her. "Miss Isla, Mr. Thorne had this custom-made just for you." I picked up a glass of hot tea from a nearby tray and poured it, slowly and deliberately, right over her head. In the dead silence of the showroom, I looked at his men. "I'm done with Elias," I said, my voice dangerously calm. "But you don't get to touch what's mine." ... Elias moved faster than I’d seen him move in years. He ripped off his thousand-dollar suit jacket, wrapped her in it, and half-carried her into a private viewing room. When he came back out, he backhanded his top man across the face. The crack echoed. "Get out. All of you. Line up on the sidewalk." His voice was ice. "When did any of you get the right to make decisions for me? Remember this: Only Elena gets that kind of respect. No one else." The men bowed, their apologies quick and meaningless. I leaned against the wall, unimpressed. "Who's the performance for, Elias? You really think they’d dare give her that ring without your nod?" He stepped close, his old scent—sandalwood and steel—filling my lungs. He reached to touch my face. I didn't move. "Elena... Isla's just... she’s naive. She’s exactly like you were when we first met. I couldn't say no. But no one, no one, compares to you." I laughed, a short, bitter sound. "Hours ago, you said you were stuck in a board meeting, that the 'old guard' was riding you, and you couldn't get away. She calls, and you ditch them? What are you afraid of, Elias? That I’ll kill her?" I reached up and tapped his throat. "Tell me. What is she?" His Adam's apple jumped. "Elena, I was afraid you'd misunderstand. That's why I rushed over. It's not about her." "Really?" I smiled, a cold, sharp thing. "You know I don't believe in words." Just then, a shriek came from the viewing room. Elias’s body tensed. He threw my hand aside. I saw the shift. The panic in his eyes. He spun to run to her. I kicked the back of his knee, hard. He grunted, his body pitching forward, and his elbow instinctively shot back, aimed right for my ribs. His voice was a snarl: "Elena, haven't you made enough of a scene!" I blocked, twisting my torso so the blow glanced off my side. But he used the moment to break free and burst into the room. He pulled the woman—still just in his jacket—into a desperate hug. I followed, leaning on the doorframe. "That touches a nerve? It was just hot water, Elias. I took a broken bottle to the head for you in Chicago, and you didn't look half this frantic." He was furious, his eyes red, but his hands on her were impossibly gentle. "She's not you, Elena! Isla’s been sheltered her whole life. Not every woman is like you." The girl burrowed into his chest, her sobs precise, her words perfectly clear. "Elias, don't blame Elena. It’s not her fault she's... like this. Not after everything. You did ten years for her... how can she not trust you!" I froze. "You've been busy, haven't you?" She looked up, tears like crystals on her porcelain cheeks. "Of course! Elias tells me everything. He says with me, he can finally... be himself. The real him. The clean him." Clean. I’d spent ten years wading through filth for him. He gets to the top and now he's ashamed of the hands that built his throne? "The real you?" I locked eyes with Elias. "Are you serious? You miss prison, Elias? Miss the stale bread and getting your head kicked in?" A flash of shame crossed his face. He handed Isla to a bodyguard. He turned, trying to take my hand. "Elena, stop. So it's a ring. I'll buy the whole store. Pick anything." I slapped his hand away. "Elias. That ring. You designed it yourself with the first real money we made from the syndicate. You stayed up for three nights drawing it. You said... you said you'd put it on my finger the day we got married. And you're giving it to her?" My fist flew. He turned, shielding Isla with his own body, taking the punch on his shoulder. "Get Miss Isla home. Now!" He knew my temper. He knew what I was capable of. The room exploded. My men and his new crew. It was a blur of motion. He blocked me, a wall of muscle, keeping me away from her. I heard a car engine. She was getting away. Rage, pure and black, burned through me. I reached into my boot and pulled the five-inch dagger—the first gift he ever gave me—and plunged it into his thigh. He hissed, but he didn't back down. He grabbed my wrist, his grip like iron, a twisted smile on his face. "Feel better? I promise, Elena. This is the last time. She'll never be in your way again." I twisted the blade. "Isla. 22. College grad. Met her at a fundraiser three months ago... 'spilled' a drink on you. You've gotten sloppy, Elias. Or did you forget how you climbed this high?" His face changed. The smile was gone. He grabbed my shoulders, his fingers digging in so hard I knew I’d have bruises. "Don't make this bigger than it is. I'll have an exact copy of the ring made. Just... let it go." The gash was too deep. He couldn't handle it himself. His men half-carried him out. I stood there, breathing hard. As I was leaving, I sent him a text. That knife was the first thing you ever gave me. Now it's yours. We're even. I knew he'd been icing me out. Sidelining me. Putting new faces in key positions, men loyal only to him. "Elena, you've been running for ten years," he'd say, massaging his temples. "You need to rest. Let me handle the dirty work." It was a lie, a tranquilizer to keep me calm. My hand went to my stomach. This morning... the nausea. The sudden dizziness. As I left the jeweler, I had my driver, Chloe, take me to our doctor. The on-payroll one. She looked at the report, then at me. "Elena... you're pregnant." The words hit me. The fucking irony. Elias had grieved over us not having a child. After they'd captured me, years ago... after the torture, the drugs... the doctor said the damage was irreversible. "You'll likely never carry a child to term." Elias had broken down. He’d smashed his fist into the wall, screaming, "My fault, my fault, if I’d been faster..." It was the only time I’d ever seen him cry. This baby... it was a miracle. And it arrived today. The day he handed my ring to another woman. "Chloe," I said, my voice flat. "This doesn't leave this car. Tell the doctor. If one word of this gets out, you'll be swimming in concrete shoes." "Elena..." "This baby is mine," I interrupted, my voice like stone. "Elias Thorne has no right to it." Because of the day's stress, the doctor insisted I stay overnight for observation. As I was checking in, I heard them. Down the hall. Isla's voice, clinging. "Elias, she's terrifying! How can she treat you like that? After everything you've done for her!" And his. "She's just... she's been through a lot. I spoiled her." "Don't move, your stitches will tear. I'll kiss it better." "Elias," she whispered, "I don't have her power. I can't run your company. But I can give you a home. With me, you can just be Elias..." She stood on her toes and kissed him. I watched. He didn't pull away. He put his hands on her waist and kissed her back. My heart seized. It was just a kiss. But it was a betrayal that ten years of bullets and blood hadn't been. We’d had so many kisses. Kisses that tasted like gunpowder and victory. Kisses in the back of armored cars, desperate and hungry. Kisses in the dark, promising forever. The last kiss before he went in. Him, gripping the bars. "You wait for me, Elena. You wait, and I'll marry you." The same mouth. Kissing her. In my empire. I walked toward them. The bodyguard saw me first. He saw the look in my eyes and he stepped back. Elias finally turned. The desire in his eyes turned to shock. My fist connected with his jaw. At the last second, he jerked his head, shielding her again, taking the blow. His leg buckled. Isla shrieked. "We're in love! Just leave us alone!" I slapped her so hard she hit the linoleum floor. I put my heel on her hand. "Say that again." Elias grabbed my arm, his voice pleading, desperate. "Elena, don't. Don't hurt her. I swear to you, your place... no one can take it. You'll be my wife. You'll always be Mrs. Thorne." I laughed, a sound that hurt my own ears. "Mrs. Thorne? You think I need your name? You think you're clean enough to give it to me?" I pressed my heel down. Isla screamed. That did it. The last bit of warmth in his eyes died. His face went blank. "Get her off!" he roared. The bodyguards moved.
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