Bound By The Cruel Tycoon's Deal

Dee's head throbbed, a painful drumbeat of whiskey and regret. She stared at the photos on the table, then at Judith Monroe's furious face, and felt nothing.

"Are you done?" Dee asked, her voice flat. "If you are, please leave my home."

Her lack of a reaction seemed to enrage Judith further. "You think climbing into bed with Angelo means anything? Don't be a fool! You are the daughter of a criminal. Our family will never, ever let you in!"

"I'll have Donny call off the engagement immediately!" Judith shrieked, standing up. She stormed out, slamming the door so hard a picture frame on the wall rattled.

The moment the door closed, Dee's legs gave out. She slid to the floor, wrapping her arms around her knees. The hate from last night, the humiliation of this morning-it all churned inside her. But she didn't cry.

Her phone rang, shattering the silence. The caller ID read 'Maria Kowalski'-her mother's caregiver. A knot of dread tightened in Dee's stomach. She answered.

"Miss Wallace, you need to come to the hospital! Right away!" Maria's voice was panicked. "Your mother... she tried to kill herself this morning! She's had another episode!"

Dee scrambled to her feet, stumbling out of the apartment without even changing out of her wrinkled gown from the night before.

She drove like a madwoman, her mind a chaotic storm of her mother's past screams and a doctor's clinical diagnosis: "Severe depression and post-traumatic stress."

At the hospital, she watched through a small window in a locked door as her mother, Clara, slept under the haze of sedatives, her face stained with tears even in unconsciousness. The doctor informed her Clara's condition was critical; any more stress could be fatal.

Leaving the hospital, Dee sat in her car, drowning in a sea of hopelessness. No fiancé. A family in ruins. A sick mother. It felt like the world was systematically stripping her of everything.

Her lawyer called with even worse news.

"Dee, there's a complication with your father's case. They're trying to move him to a maximum-security federal prison. If that happens, visitation will be nearly impossible, and the appeal will become much harder."

Her fingers tightened around the steering wheel until her knuckles turned white. One blow after another, each one aimed at breaking her. She needed money. She needed power.

Angelo Monroe's cold face flashed through her mind. She thought of the business card she had left on his nightstand. He was dangerous, but he was powerful. And right now, he was the only person who could pull her out of this.

Her hands shaking, she called her best friend, Chloe Hayes, the concierge manager at a luxury hotel downtown.

"Chloe," she said, her voice trembling.

Chloe's warm, no-nonsense voice was an anchor. "Dee? What's wrong? You sound terrible."

Dee gave her the short, brutal version of the engagement party, leaving out the part about sleeping with Angelo. She just said she needed to find him.

"Angelo Monroe," Chloe said, a low whistle in her tone. "CEO of the Monroe Group. That's big leagues, Dee. He's speaking at a press conference here this afternoon. I might be able to get you a press pass."

A flicker of hope. "I'm on my way."

Ten minutes later, Dee arrived at the hotel. She took the access card from Chloe, who looked at her with concern."Dee, what are you getting yourself into? This man isn't someone you can afford to mess with."

"I don't have a choice," Dee said, hugging her friend tightly.

She planned to wait for him in the parking garage after the event, to use their night together as leverage, to beg if she had to.

But she was too late. By the time she got there, his motorcade was already gone.

Defeated, she walked back to her car and turned the key. Nothing happened. The engine was completely dead.

Just then, the sky opened up. A torrential downpour began, fat drops of rain hammering against the windshield, blurring the world outside, extinguishing her last spark of hope.

She wouldn't give up. She got out of the car, the cold rain instantly soaking her thin dress. She shivered, walking toward the main road to hail a cab, a pathetic, drenched figure in the middle of a concrete garage.

Just as she was about to surrender to the cold and misery, a black Rolls-Royce Phantom glided to a silent stop beside her.

The tinted rear window slid down, revealing the sharp, impassive profile of Angelo Monroe. He was looking at a document, completely ignoring her.

His driver gestured for her to get in.

Dee stood frozen, rain soaking through her clothes and dripping from her hair. She couldn't tell if the wetness on her face was from the rain or her tears.

Angelo finally looked up. His cold, dark eyes met hers through the curtain of rain. His voice was flat, carrying the same authority as always.

"Get in. Or keep getting soaked."

She bit her lip, tasting the faint trace of blood mixed with rainwater. Then she pulled open the heavy door and slipped inside, bringing the cold, the rain, and her desperation into his warm, dry world filled with the scent of leather.

The door clicked shut, sealing her in.