ADRIAN POV
Two years, three months, and sixteen days.
That's how long I'd been waiting for Damien Hartwell to destroy himself.
I watched through the tinted window as Iris Chen stood in the rain outside that hotel, looking like her world had just ended. Because it had. My baby brother had finally done exactly what I knew he would—chosen the easy path and broken the one good thing in his pathetic life.
Perfect.
"Sir?" My driver, Marcus, glanced at me in the rearview mirror. "Should we approach?"
"Not yet." My fingers drummed against my knee. Patience. I'd waited this long. A few more minutes wouldn't hurt.
But watching her stand there, soaked and shaking, made something twist in my chest. Something I didn't like. Something that felt dangerously close to guilt.
I crushed it.
Guilt was for people who had the luxury of conscience. I'd lost that privilege twenty years ago when my father chose his legitimate son over his bastard. When Damien's mother got the ring and the mansion while my mother got nothing but shame and poverty.
When my mother died alone in a charity hospital because we couldn't afford better care.
No. I didn't do guilt anymore.
"Sir, she's moving."
Iris was walking now, stumbling really, heading toward the street. Her face was blank. Empty. Like someone had scooped out everything inside her and left just the shell.
I knew that look. I'd worn it myself once.
"Pull up beside her," I ordered. "Slowly. Don't scare her."
The car glided forward. I rolled down the window and held up the umbrella I'd brought specifically for this moment.
"Get in the car, Iris Chen."
She looked at me with those dark eyes—the same eyes that had stared out from her blog profile picture for two years. The same eyes that had seen through corporate lies and called out corruption when everyone else stayed silent.
She was even more beautiful up close. And more broken.
Good. Broken things were easier to reshape.
She got in. Just like I knew she would. Because Iris Chen was smart, and smart people recognized opportunity even when it came wrapped in danger.
I gave her my address—well, her old address. I'd already had my team research everything about her life. I knew where she lived, what she ate for breakfast, how many hours she worked to support my useless brother.
I knew everything.
Watching her discover she owned nothing was harder than I expected. The way her hands shook when she opened that laptop. The sound she made when she checked her bank account.
My jaw clenched.
Damien had taken everything from her. Just like our father had taken everything from my mother.
History really did repeat itself.
"Is that everything?" I asked when she came back with one tiny suitcase.
"That's everything I own."
Four words that made me want to drive back to that hotel and put my fist through my brother's face. But violence was messy. Revenge was better served cold and calculated.
And I'd been planning this for two years.
"Come with me," I said. "I have a guest room."
She should refuse. Should be terrified. Instead, she just looked tired.
"I don't even know your name."
"Adrian Thorne."
The fear that flashed across her face was satisfying. Everyone knew my name. Everyone knew what I was capable of.
"Why are you helping me?"
Because you're the key to destroying everything my father built. Because your blog posts helped me take down three of my competitors. Because watching you defend integrity and justice for two years made me believe that maybe, just maybe, some people were worth saving.
But I couldn't say any of that.
"Because, Iris Chen, you're exactly what I need. And I'm going to give you exactly what you need—revenge."
The word tasted good. Right.
She turned off her phone when Damien texted. That small act of defiance made me smile.
Yes. This would work perfectly.
We drove through Manhattan as night fell. Rain hammered the roof of the car. Iris stared out the window, silent. Probably processing. Probably wondering what kind of monster she'd just agreed to follow home.
Smart girl.
My penthouse occupied the top three floors of Thorne Tower. The building I'd built with my own blood and sweat and rage. Every brick was a middle finger to my father's memory.
The elevator opened directly into my living room. Iris stepped out and stopped.
"This is where you live?"
"Home sweet home." I shrugged off my jacket. "Guest room is down the hall, second door on the left. There's clothes in the closet that should fit you. Shower. Get warm. I'll order food."
She didn't move. Just stood there dripping on my marble floor, looking lost.
"Iris." I kept my voice gentle. Predators knew how to be gentle when necessary. "Go. We'll talk after you've eaten."
She finally nodded and disappeared down the hallway.
I poured myself a scotch and stood at the window, looking out over the city I'd conquered. Somewhere out there, Damien was probably celebrating his marriage to a dying girl. Probably feeling noble and sacrificial.
He had no idea his new wife wasn't sick at all.
I'd discovered Vivienne Lancaster's scheme six months ago. The fake medical records. The bribed doctors. The plan to steal Iris's inheritance and trap Damien into marriage.
I could have exposed it then. Could have sent proof to Iris and watched the whole thing fall apart.
But where was the fun in that?
No, I'd waited. Watched. Let Vivienne's trap spring shut on my brother. Let Iris lose everything so she'd have nothing left to hold her back.
So she'd be desperate enough to accept my offer.
So she'd become my wife.
My phone buzzed. A message from my head of security: *Subject is in the shower. Bag contents confirm—no weapons, no drugs, no concerning items. Just clothes and a box of photos.*
Good.
Another message, this one from my private investigator: *Damien Hartwell and Vivienne Lancaster marriage registered at 4:47 PM. Should we proceed with phase two?*
I typed back: *Wait for my signal.*
Everything was falling into place. Every piece exactly where I needed it.
Iris would agree to my contract marriage. She'd help me secure my grandmother's inheritance and the board's approval. She'd be the perfect weapon against my brother and everyone who'd ever doubted me.
And when the year was over, when I'd taken everything from Damien the way he and our father had taken everything from me, I'd let Iris go. Give her the five million dollars. Set her free.
Simple. Clean. Transactional.
Except...
I remembered the way she'd looked in the rain. The way her voice had cracked when she said she owned nothing. The way she'd turned off her phone instead of answering Damien's pathetic apology.
She had fire in her. Underneath all that softness and hurt, there was steel.
I'd read her blog posts. I knew how sharp her mind was, how clearly she saw through lies and manipulation. She'd called me out once, two years ago, for a business deal that skirted ethical lines. She'd been right, too. I'd respected that. Respected her.
Which made this complicated.
Because somewhere between planning this revenge and watching her step into my car, I'd started to wonder: what if she was more than just a weapon?
What if she was the match and I was the gasoline?
The shower turned off down the hall.
I drained my scotch.
Too late for wondering now. The plan was in motion. In a few minutes, I'd make my offer. She'd accept because she had no other choice.
And then we'd see who burned first—Damien or me.
Footsteps in the hallway. Iris appeared, wearing one of the robes I'd had stocked in the guest room. Her damp hair hung loose around her shoulders. Without makeup, she looked younger. Vulnerable.
"Feel better?" I asked.
"Yes. Thank you." She twisted her hands together. "Adrian, what exactly do you want from me?"
Right to business. I liked that.
"Sit down," I said, gesturing to the couch. "Let me tell you a story about two brothers who hated each other. And how you're going to help me destroy one of them."
Her eyes widened. "Brothers? You mean—"
"Damien is my half-brother," I said calmly. "And everything that happened today? I've been planning it for two years."
The color drained from her face.
"You... you knew he'd leave me?"
"I knew he'd do exactly what our father taught him—choose the path of least resistance and break the people who loved him."
She stood up fast, backing toward the door. "You used me. This whole rescue thing is just another manipulation—"
"Yes," I interrupted. Simple truth worked best. "I've been watching you, waiting for Damien to reveal his true nature. And now that he has, I'm offering you a choice."
"What choice?"
I smiled. "Marry me instead."