His Twisted Game, My Dangerous Love

The next morning, the reality of the missing ring hit Vesper like a physical blow.

She stared at her bare finger. If Julian noticed, he would kill her. If the family noticed, she was dead.

Her phone rang. It was a Manhattan number.

"Mrs. Sterling?" A professional voice. "This is Scott, Mr. Sterling's executive assistant."

"Yes?"

"Mr. Sterling has an item of yours in his possession. A sapphire ring."

Vesper closed her eyes. He was holding it hostage.

"Send it over," Vesper demanded, trying to sound authoritative.

"I'm afraid protocol requires you to retrieve it personally at Global Headquarters," Scott said, sounding apologetic. "Security measures regarding family heirlooms."

It was a trap. A power play.

Vesper hung up.

She drove to the city, fueled by rage.

The Sterling Global Tower pierced the sky like a glass needle. Security waved her through; she was expected.

The elevator ride to the 90th floor made her ears pop.

The doors opened to a reception area that was empty except for Scott, who pointed silently to the double mahogany doors.

Vesper took a deep breath and pushed them open.

The office was massive. Floor-to-ceiling windows overlooked Central Park.

Damon was sitting behind a desk that looked like it was made from the hull of a warship. He was on a call, speaking fluent, rapid-fire French.

He saw her. He didn't smile. He just flicked a finger, signaling her to sit.

Vesper remained standing.

He hung up the phone. The silence stretched.

"My ring," Vesper said, holding out her hand.

Damon opened a drawer. He pulled out the ring. He held it up to the light, inspecting it with a critical eye.

"It's a gaudy thing," he said. "Doesn't suit you."

"It suits my marriage," Vesper retorted.

"Your marriage is a lie," Damon said calmly. "And I have the proof."

He dropped a manila folder on the desk. It slid across the polished wood and stopped at her fingertips.

Vesper looked down. It was Julian's financials. Hidden accounts. Wire transfers to a real estate agent for a condo in SoHo. Payments to a fertility clinic.

"He's moving her in," Damon said. "He's using family funds to set up a second life."

Vesper stared at the papers. She knew it, but seeing it in black and white was different. It was a gut punch.

"Why are you showing me this?" she asked, her voice trembling.

"Because," Damon said, "I hate a bad investment. And you, Vesper, are wasting your potential on a sinking ship."

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