Cade Kirk could feel the prickle of cold sweat gathering at the nape of his neck, but he forced himself to maintain his composure. “Harvey is a slippery one. Any trail he leaves is nothing but a decoy. However,” he said, voice firm with conviction, “I can guarantee that he hasn’t left Sovereign City yet.”

The Jones Pharma Group reigned paramount in traditional medicine circles. Countless prestigious families yearned to bring the group under their control, their interest heightened by Laura, the sole daughter of Yvonne—the legendary master of toxicology and the heart of Jones Pharma Group. Under Yvonne’s careful tutelage, Laura had inherited unmatched expertise, becoming the heir apparent to the pharmaceutical empire. Even the wealthiest suitors, offering fortunes at her feet, had failed to secure her assistance.

Stories about Laura abounded in the underworld, a kaleidoscope of myths and whispers. Yet, three years ago, she had disappeared without a trace.

Recently, after considerable effort, the Hart family had caught wind of her imminent return—a revelation of critical importance. Sir Hart’s recovery depended on her skills, and as such, finding Laura became an all-consuming imperative. Since Harvey now helmed Jones Pharma Group, the most direct method of locating Laura was tracking him. But Harvey, often pursued by powerful families, had mastered the art of vanishing into thin air.

“Raelynn,” Christian said abruptly.

Cade Kirk faltered for a moment before responding, his words slightly hesitant. “She’s… uh, yes, Ms. Jones—she shares the surname, but she has absolutely no connection to Jones Pharma Group. After leaving the Hart family, she’s been staying at Daybreak Inn.”

“Daybreak Inn?” Christian repeated, the weight of the implication sinking in; that inn was, after all, part of the Hart family’s business.

Cade caught on immediately. “If Harvey’s been seen with Ms. Jones, monitoring her might lead us to him. I’ll send someone to keep an eye on her right away!”

Christian’s tone dropped, sharp and cold as a blade. “If you fail this time, you can pack your bags and relocate to Africa.”

A chill ran down Cade’s spine. Without wasting a second, he bolted from the room.

*****

Raelynn was roused from sleep by a sharp knock on her door. Groggily, she swung it open only to find Harvey striding in uninvited, breakfast in hand, his demeanor as nonchalant as it was infuriating.

“Master, weren’t you supposed to deal with the divorce today? What are you still doing in bed? Don’t tell me you’re having second thoughts.”

Still caught in the haze of disrupted rest, her mood soured instantly. Without hesitation, she grabbed a pillow and hurled it at him. Harvey merely tilted his head aside, letting it thud harmlessly to the floor.

“You dare show up here knowing Christian’s got eyes on you?” Her words were jagged, dripping with irritation.

Harvey smirked, unbothered. “Sure, he’s got people watching me. But does he have any idea who I am—”

Before he could finish, the clatter of heavy boots filled the hallway outside. In the blink of an eye, dozens of bodyguards surged in, encircling the entire floor with military precision.

Guests who had only just checked in exchanged baffled whispers:

“What’s going on? Who are these people?”

“I heard it’s a raid. Something about a mistress sneaking around behind an older husband’s back…”

As Cade Kirk stepped out of the elevator, led deferentially by the hotel manager, he overheard the speculative gossip and felt a vein in his temple twitch violently. These people had an unparalleled talent for spinning outrageous narratives.

The manager, careful to distance himself, declared with a show of practiced detachment, “Ms. Jones checked in with valid identification. The surveillance cameras on this floor happened to malfunction, but the registration clearly shows she signed in alone.”

Eventually, the search party escalated to the hotel’s rooftop café, where Raelynn, oblivious to the uproar she had caused, was presently berating someone over the phone.

“I followed all your instructions. I even sent the money. Why hasn’t my husband come back yet?”

“And where’s that rich playboy you promised to set me up with to make him jealous? Why hasn’t he shown up?”

“You know what? If you think I’m going to take responsibility for your failure, you’ve got another thing coming! All I want is for my husband to change his mind—wasn’t that part of our deal? If you can’t deliver, give me my damn money back!”

“You scheming little tramp!” she screeched. “Did you think scamming me would be easy? Refund me now, or I swear I’ll expose you for the fraud you are!”

The heated exchange spilled into increasingly vulgar territory. Cade, who had been half-listening from a distance, instinctively touched his neck as if already bracing for the incoming wrath of Christian.

That wrath was close at hand. Christian’s icy presence seemed to lick across the room, arresting Raelynn mid-rant. She turned sharply on her heel, only to meet his gaze—a stare frigid enough to silence the world. Whatever bravado she’d worn just seconds before melted away.

In a display of alarmingly practiced dexterity, she transformed, her face lighting up with a nervous sort of joy. With the grace of someone utterly spineless, she flung herself into his arms, wrapping herself tightly around his waist. Her voice turned breathy, girlish, and imploring.

“Honey, you came to bring me home! I knew you still cared. I just knew it…”

Christian didn’t dignify her theatrics with a reply. His fury, molten and barely contained, burned in his eyes. With a grimace, he pried her arms off and, as though she weighed nothing at all, tossed her aside and backed away a few paces for good measure.

Raelynn scrambled upright, seemingly undeterred. “Honey…” she began again, her voice faltering as his unyielding presence bore down on her.

“I know you still care about our marriage. Otherwise, why would you—”

“Shut up!” Christian’s bark was low and ferocious, snapping taut the unseen threads of tension in the room. His glare darted to Cade, who was content to shrink himself into the furthest corner, keenly aware he’d failed catastrophically yet again.

Christian’s voice turned steel-like, each word ground out with effort. “The man from yesterday. Where is he?”

Raelynn stiffened. Her cheeks turned a suspicious shade of crimson as she broke into a laugh—light, teasing, and filled with misplaced confidence. “I knew—deep down—you cared about me after all.”

Her tone, her expression, the painstaking façade she maintained—it all grated on Christian like nails on glass. “Civil affairs office. Now,” he growled, his patience finally splintering.

The ride there was suffocatingly silent. Raelynn, once the picture of lively defiance, had reduced herself to a pitiful imitation of meekness. She dared not meet Christian’s eyes. Even so, every so often, her delicate fingers inched toward his arm in tentative overtures, only to withdraw quickly under his wordless, forbidding aura.

Christian exhaled sharply, attempting to dissipate the oppressive irritation coiling inside him. But then, as if struck by an epiphany, he noticed how readily Raelynn had produced her documents at his mention of divorce—no hesitation, no stalling. It didn’t add up.

She’s been planning for this, he realized.

Feigning submission all the while, Raelynn could barely contain her jubilation. Just a few more hours and she would finally escape this mess of a marriage.

Breaking the silence, Christian leaned closer, his gaze drilling into her demurely lowered face. “Didn’t you say you didn’t want a divorce?”

“Yes,” Raelynn replied, all saccharine sweetness. She tilted her head, her act of innocence flawless. “I just want to be with you. I’ll do anything to make this work…” She edged closer, a calculated move that he parried effortlessly by shifting just out of reach.

“Anything?” His tone was razor-sharp. “Then tell me where that man is. Maybe, maybe then, I’ll reconsider.”

Raelynn froze, caught between mortification and undefeated defiance. For a moment, silent tension tied them together, something unspoken and deeply awkward buzzing in the air between them.

A shrill ringtone shattered the moment. Christian glanced down at the caller ID—Hart family estate. He hit answer, his chest tightening at the urgency in the butler’s voice.

“Young Master, the old sir… he’s collapsed!”

And then the line went dead.