The morning in Silas Vane’s penthouse didn't begin with sunlight; it began with the mechanical hum of automated black-out shades retracting to reveal a city that looked like it belonged to him. Selene woke up in the center of the massive silk bed, feeling more like a museum exhibit than a woman.

She had barely slept. Every time she closed her eyes, she felt the phantom pressure of Silas’s fingers against her throat, fastening that diamond choker.

A soft chime echoed through the suite. "Mr. Vane is breakfasting in the dining conservatory," a disembodied voice—the penthouse AI—announced. "He expects you in ten minutes. Dress code: Business Formal."

Selene scrambled. She chose a sheath dress from the closet—cream-colored, tailored so perfectly it felt like a second skin, with a hemline that hit just above the knee. She caught her reflection in the floor-to-ceiling mirror. She looked expensive. She looked like the daughter of a dynasty again. But when she looked into her own eyes, she saw the flickers of a prey animal.

The dining conservatory was a glass-walled room filled with exotic ferns and the scent of expensive espresso. Silas sat at the head of a long marble table, dressed in a midnight-blue suit, reading digital stock reports. He didn't look up when she entered, but his posture shifted, a subtle tightening of his shoulders that told her he was acutely aware of her presence.

"Sit," he commanded, gesturing to the chair at his right.

A silent server placed a plate in front of her—poached eggs, avocado, and smoked salmon. It looked delicious, but Selene’s stomach was a knot of nerves.

"I don't have an appetite, Silas," she said, her voice steadier than she felt.

"Eat," he said, finally looking at her. His eyes traveled from her face down to the curve of the cream silk over her hips. "You’re too thin, Selene. I don’t like my investments looking fragile. It suggests I don't take care of what I own."

Selene picked up a fork, forcing herself to take a bite. "What is the schedule for today? You said I have to be at your beck and call."

Silas set his tablet down and leaned toward her, his forearms resting on the marble. The sheer size of him always seemed to shrink the room. "Tonight is the Vanguard Gala. Every major player in the city will be there. Including the men who are currently circling your father’s firm like vultures."

He paused, his gaze darkening. "You will walk in on my arm. You will wear the ring I’ve placed by your coffee cup. And you will tell anyone who asks that we’ve been seeing each other privately for months."

Selene looked down. Beside her saucer sat a platinum band featuring a canary diamond the size of an almond. It was breathtaking. It was a lie.

"A fake engagement?" she whispered. "Why go that far? You already have the debt as leverage."

"Because," Silas said, rising from his chair and walking around to stand behind her. He leaned down, his hands gripping the back of her chair, pinning her in place. "I want the world to know that you are off-limits. I want every man who thought they could profit from your family’s ruin to know that if they touch you, they are touching me."

His breath hitched against the nape of her neck, sending a violent spark of electricity through her.

"Is this about the business, Silas? Or is this about the fact that you still can’t stand the thought of anyone else having me?"

The silence that followed was heavy, thick with the history of their shared summer nights a decade ago. Silas reached out, his gloved thumb—he was already prepared for the day—tracing the line of her jaw.

"Rule Number One, Selene," he murmured, his voice a low, vibrating growl. "Never mistake my possession for affection. I am a man who keeps his trophies polished. Nothing more."

He straightened up, the cold mask sliding back into place. "My stylist will be here at three. You will be draped in gold by seven. If you play your part well tonight, I might consider extending your father’s grace period by another thirty days."

He turned to leave, but stopped at the door. "And Selene? Don't forget the ring. If I see your hand bare tonight, the deal is off, and your father goes to prison by midnight."

As the door clicked shut, Selene picked up the heavy diamond. It felt cold against her skin—a beautiful, shimmering shackle. She had 50 chapters of this ahead of her, and she was already losing her mind.