The Monday morning in Manhattan was cold, sharp, and metallic, mirroring the mood inside the top-floor executive suite of the Thorne Tower. Dominic Thorne sat behind his expansive desk of polished obsidian, the city skyline sprawling behind him like a kingdom he had conquered but found no joy in. He hadn't slept properly in forty-eight hours. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw the curve of a neck, the flash of emerald silk, and the haunting, terrified beauty of the woman who had vanished like a ghost.
The heavy double doors clicked open. Marcus stepped in, his expression uncharacteristically grave. He held a leather-bound folder that seemed to pulse with the weight of the secrets inside.
"You found her," Dominic said. It wasn't a question. His voice was a low, dangerous vibration that cut through the hum of the air conditioning.
Marcus stopped at the edge of the desk. "I did. It took the combined efforts of three private intelligence firms and a deep-dive into the loan-sharking records of the outer provinces, but she's no longer the unknown."
Dominic leaned forward, his hands lacing together. "Give me a name, Marcus. Give me a name I can wrap my tongue around."
"Her name is Elena," Marcus said softly. "Elena Vance."
"Elena," Dominic repeated. The name felt like velvet in his mouth, a stark contrast to the grit in his soul. A small, dark smile touched his lips—the first sign of genuine emotion in days. "It's a beautiful name. Sharp, elegant, and timeless. It fits her perfectly."
"She's from a small farming community in Creston, British Columbia," Marcus continued, flipping open the folder to reveal a grainy photo of a weathered farmhouse surrounded by golden wheat fields. "It's a rural area, primarily focused on fruit orchards and grain. She's been living there her whole life. Her mother passed away seven years ago from a sudden illness, leaving behind Elena, her father, and two younger siblings—a brother and a sister, both still in school."
Dominic's eyes tracked the details of her life with the hunger of a man starved.
"The father, Silas Vance, was the pillar of the family until a series of strokes left him bedridden and requiring round-the-clock care," Marcus added. "The medical bills were astronomical. To save the house and the land that has been in their family for three generations, Elena took out a massive loan from a predatory company. They were days away from foreclosure. They were going to lose the only thing they had left."
Dominic leaned back, his gaze shifting to the ceiling. The puzzle pieces were clicking into place with a sickening snap. "So that was the price. She sold her body to save a patch of dirt and a sick man's pride."
"It explains the desperation," Marcus said. "It explains why she would take a job that was clearly beneath her dignity. She didn't do it for the lifestyle, Dominic. She did it for survival."
Dominic stood up, his tall frame casting a long, intimidating shadow across the office. He walked to the window, staring out toward the north. "Survival. She walked into the den of a beast to save her kin. There is a primitive honor in that. But there's one thing you don't know, Marcus. One thing the records didn't tell you."
Marcus frowned. "What is that, sir?"
Dominic turned around, his eyes burning with an intensity that made Marcus feel a chill down his spine. "She was a virgin."
The silence that followed was absolute. Marcus's stylus slipped from his fingers, clattering onto the marble floor. "A virgin?" he echoed, his voice filled with genuine shock. "Sir, with her beauty? She could have had any man in the country. She could have married a prince. Why... why would she stay pure only to throw it away on a weekend contract with a stranger?"
"Because she's a martyr," Dominic hissed, his jaw tightening as he remembered the way she had bled on his sheets—the silent testament of her sacrifice. "She didn't want a man. She wanted a savior. And I was the only one with enough blood-money to play the part. She gave me the only thing she truly owned, thinking it was a one-time transaction. She thought she could pay the debt and go back to her quiet little farm."
"But it's not a one-time transaction for you, is it?" Marcus asked, his voice dropping to a cautious whisper.
"No," Dominic growled. "I broke the seal. I claimed the prize. Do you really think I'm going to let some local farmhand or a country doctor touch what I've spent the last forty-eight hours obsessing over? She carries the mark of a Thorne now. She is mine by right of the blood she spilled on my bed."
Dominic began to pace, his movements sharp and decisive. The "Mad Heir" was gone; in his place was a king preparing for a crusade.
"Prepare the Gulfstream," Dominic commanded. "I want it ready for takeoff at Teterboro within the hour. Clear my schedule for the next three days. Cancel the board meeting with the Japanese delegation. Tell the legal team I'm out of the country."
Marcus blinked, his mind racing. "Sir, you're going to British Columbia? To a village? The press will lose their minds if they find you in a rural orchard. Isabella has already called three times this morning asking about the gala preparations—"
"Let them talk," Dominic snapped, grabbing his charcoal overcoat from the rack. "And tell Isabella I'm busy saving the empire. She doesn't need to know which part of the empire I'm interested in."
He walked toward the door, pausing with his hand on the handle. He looked back at Marcus, his expression one of terrifying, singular focus.
"I'm going to Creston. I'm going to pay Elena's home a visit," Dominic said, his voice dropping into that lethal, possessive range. "She wanted to save her family's land? Fine. I'll buy the land. I'll buy the village. I'll buy the air she breathes. She thinks she paid her debt to me, but she has no idea... the interest is just beginning to accrue."
Dominic stepped out of the office, his heavy boots echoing like a drumbeat of war against the marble floor. Behind him, Marcus stood in the silence, looking at the photo of the humble farmhouse. He knew that by the time the sun set, that peaceful village would never be the same again. The beast was hungry, and he was heading straight for the girl who thought she had escaped.