Jennifer's POV
"Stop looking at me like that."
Michael's leaning against the doorframe of his bedroom, watching me button my shirt. His arms are crossed. His jaw is tight. He looks angry and hungry at the same time.
"Like what?" he asks.
"Like you own me." I grab my shoes from beside his bed. "You don't."
"I'm not trying to own you, Jennifer."
"Good. Because last night was just—"
"Don't." Michael's voice cuts through the air like a knife. "Don't you dare say it was nothing."
My fingers freeze on my shoe.
He's right. Last night wasn't nothing. Last night was everything I've been trying to forget—fire and need and feeling alive for the first time since Richard destroyed me. Michael's hands on my skin. His mouth against mine. The way he whispered my name like it was the only word that mattered.
But that's exactly why I have to leave.
"One night," I say, forcing my voice to stay steady. "That was the deal."
Michael moves fast. One second he's by the door. The next he's in front of me, his hands cupping my face, making me look at him.
"What if I want to change the deal?" His eyes are dark. Intense. "What if one night isn't enough?"
My heart slams against my ribs. "It has to be."
"Why?"
"Because I can't do this!" The words explode out of me. I push away from him, needing space, needing air. "I can't let anyone close. Not again. Not ever."
"I'm not Richard."
"I know that!" I spin to face him. "But you're still a man who wants things from me. Feelings. Promises. Forever. And I have nothing left to give!"
Michael's face changes. Something soft breaks through his anger. "You think I want to take from you?"
"Everyone takes." My voice cracks. "That's what people do. They take and take until you're empty, and then they leave anyway."
"Jennifer—"
"No." I hold up my hand. "This is why I made the rule. No feelings. No strings. Just one night of forgetting. That's all I can handle."
Michael stares at me for a long moment. Then he says, very quietly, "What if I'm already breaking your rule?"
The words hit me like a punch to the chest.
"Don't," I whisper. "Please don't say that."
"Why? Because it's true?" Michael steps closer. "I've wanted you for years, Jennifer. Years of watching you smile at that bastard husband, years of pretending I only saw you as Jason's little sister. Last night wasn't just sex for me. It was—"
"Stop!" I cover my ears like a child. "I don't want to hear this!"
"Too bad." Michael pulls my hands away from my ears, gentle but firm. "You don't get to set all the rules and then run away when someone breaks them."
"Yes, I do." Tears burn my eyes. "That's exactly what I get to do. My life. My rules. My choice."
"And what about my choice?" Michael's voice drops lower. "Don't I get to choose you?"
The question hangs in the air between us like smoke.
I want to say yes. God, I want to fall into his arms and let him catch me and believe that maybe, just maybe, someone could actually choose me and mean it.
But I remember Richard choosing me. Richard promising forever. Richard looking at me with the same intensity Michael has right now.
And then Richard threw me away like garbage.
"I have to go." I grab my purse. "This was a mistake."
"Don't do this, Jennifer."
"It's already done." I head for the door.
Michael doesn't try to stop me this time. But his voice follows me down the hallway. "Running away doesn't make you strong. It just makes you alone."
The words stab into my back like glass.
I don't turn around. I can't. If I look at him right now, I'll break.
The elevator ride down from Michael's penthouse feels like falling. My reflection in the mirrored walls shows a woman with messy hair and smudged makeup and eyes that look too bright.
I look like someone who just made the biggest mistake of her life.
Or avoided making one. I can't tell anymore.
My phone buzzes. A text from Sophia: How was last night? Did you burn down Manhattan or just his bed?
I can't even smile at the joke.
Another text comes in. Unknown number.
Jennifer Morgan. We need to talk about your husband. Meet me at Central Park, Bethesda Fountain, noon. Come alone. Don't tell anyone. Especially not Michael Kane.
My blood turns to ice.
Who the hell is this?
I text back: Who are you?
The response is instant: Someone who knows what Richard is really planning. Someone who can help you. But only if you trust me.
Why should I trust you?
Because I have proof he's not just after your money. He's after something much worse. And if you don't stop him, people you love are going to get hurt.
My hands are shaking so hard I almost drop my phone.
Another message: Michael, Daniel, James. Your brother Jason. Even you. Richard's planning something big. Something that will destroy all of you. I can stop it. But you have to meet me. Noon. Come alone.
The elevator doors open. I stumble out into the lobby, my mind spinning.
This could be a trap. Richard could have sent someone to mess with me, scare me, hurt me.
But what if it's real? What if Richard really is planning something worse than I thought?
What if Michael's in danger because of me?
I check the time. 9 AM. Three hours until noon.
Three hours to decide if I'm brave enough—or stupid enough—to walk into whatever trap this might be.
My phone rings. It's Michael.
I stare at his name on my screen. Answer and tell him about the texts? Let him help me?
Or keep him safe by pushing him away?
The phone keeps ringing.
I make my choice.
I let it go to voicemail.
Then I text the unknown number: I'll be there. Noon. Alone.
The response makes my skin crawl: Good girl. And Jennifer? Don't trust anyone. Not even the people who say they love you. Everyone's lying to you. Even the man whose bed you just left.
I stare at the message, my heart pounding so hard it hurts.
What does that mean? Is Michael lying to me? About what?
Another text: You want proof? Ask Michael about Project Morgan. Ask him why he really became Jason's friend twelve years ago. Ask him what he wants from your family.
No. No, this is just mind games. Richard trying to mess with my head.
But doubt creeps in like poison.
Michael said he's wanted me for years. But what if there's more to it? What if he wants something else? Something connected to Morgan Media Group? To my family's money?
Stop it, Jennifer. You're being paranoid.
But Richard made me paranoid for a reason. Because everyone does want something.
My phone buzzes again. This time it's a photo.
Michael. In a meeting. With someone I recognize from the Morgan Media board.
The timestamp says it's from two weeks ago.
Before Michael claimed he wanted to help me.
Before he said he was breaking his own rules for me.
The caption under the photo: He's been planning this longer than you think.
I can't breathe.
Everything I thought I knew—everything I felt this morning—crashes down around me like broken glass.
Is Michael using me? Is this whole thing—last night, his words, his touch—just part of some scheme?
I don't know what to believe anymore.
All I know is that I'm walking into Central Park at noon to meet a stranger who might be trying to save me or kill me.
And I'm doing it alone.
Because the one person I thought I could maybe, possibly, dangerously start to trust?
Might be the biggest liar of them all.