Damien stared at his laptop screen, his jaw clenched tight. One by one, photos appeared—shots of Rosemary sitting on her balcony, crying quietly in the dark. The images were clear, taken from a distance, and every angle made Damien’s blood boil.

“Damn it…” he muttered under his breath, his fists curling until his knuckles turned white.

The photos had been sent by one of his contacts inside Adrian Corp’s private security network.

The message attached was short, but it said everything he needed to know:

> “This isn’t Adrian’s doing. Cassandra ordered it.”

Damien exhaled sharply. He had suspected it all along. Cassandra wasn’t the kind of woman who stopped...