The debt

The first thing I realized when I woke up was that the other side of the bed was cold.

The second thing I realized was that I was still wearing the black silk slip, and it was twisted around my hips like a reminder of a fever dream. I sat up, the sunlight pouring through the floor-to-ceiling windows of the penthouse. It was a beautiful view of the city, a view that millions of people would kill for, but to me, it looked like the bars of a cage.

On the pillow where Adam's head had rested sat a single, cream-colored card. No envelope. No "good morning." Just a list.

I picked it up, my heart doing that familiar, frantic dance against my ribs.

> DIRECTIVE 001: COMMUNICATION BLACKOUT.

> As of 0600 hours, the following contacts are restricted under the Breach of Loyalty clause. Any attempt to reach these individuals via third-party devices or digital footprints will result in immediate forfeiture of the Sterling Estate.

> * Arthur Sterling (Father)

> * Julian Vane (Attorney)

> * Eleanor Hunt (Associate)

>

The card fluttered from my fingers as if it had burned me. My father. He was cutting me off from my own father. The man who had sold me to save himself was the only person left who knew who I actually was, and Adam was erasing him with a stroke of a pen.

I scrambled out of bed, my feet hitting the plush carpet as I ran toward the door. I grabbed the handle and yanked. Locked.

"Adam!" I screamed, pounding my fist against the heavy wood. "Adam, you can't do this! Open this door!"

A soft chime echoed in the room, and a voice came through the hidden speakers in the ceiling. Not Adam's. It was Elena.

"Miss Sterling, Mr. Thorne is currently in a high-level briefing. He has requested that you prepare for the board meeting at ten. Your wardrobe has been moved to the dressing room."

"I don't care about a meeting!" I yelled at the ceiling, feeling like a lunatic. "He's cutting me off from my family. Tell him he can't do that. It's illegal. It's-"

"It's in the contract, Abigail," a deep, quiet voice interrupted.

I spun around. Adam wasn't at the door. He was on a screen embedded in the wall that I hadn't even noticed. He was sitting in an office, his shirtsleeves rolled up, a pen between his fingers. He didn't look angry; he looked like he was reading a weather report.

"Page twelve, Section 9.3," he said, finally looking into the camera. His eyes were sharper than the morning sun. "The Subject's social circle is a liability. Your father is a master of manipulation. If he speaks to you, he'll try to use you to get to me. I'm simply removing the temptation."

"He's my father, Adam. He's all I have."

"He's the man who traded you for a stay-out-of-jail-free card," Adam countered, his voice cold and devoid of empathy. "The sooner you stop mourning a ghost, the sooner you'll be useful to me. Now, stop behaving like a child and get dressed. You have forty minutes to become the woman I need you to be."

The screen went black.

The door to the dressing room slid open automatically. I walked inside, my legs feeling like lead. Hanging on a single rack was a suit. It was charcoal gray, tailored so perfectly it looked like it would feel like a second skin. Beside it was a pair of black stilettos and a pearl necklace that looked like a row of frozen tears.

I realized then that Adam wasn't just paying back a debt. He was performing surgery on my life. He was cutting out every piece of Abigail Sterling that he didn't like and replacing it with something... Thorne.

By the time I stood in front of the full-length mirror, I didn't recognize myself. The suit pulled in at my waist, making me look sharper, harder. My hair was pulled back into a sleek, tight knot. I looked like a woman who could command a room. Or a woman who was owned by the man who did.

The bedroom door finally clicked. Unlocked.

I didn't run for the elevator. I knew there was no point. I walked out into the main living area, where Adam was waiting by the private lift. He looked me up and down, his gaze lingering on the way the suit hugged my curves.

"Better," he murmured, stepping into the lift and holding the door for me. "Do you have your phone?"

"You know I don't," I said, my voice trembling with suppressed rage. "Your team took it last night."

"Correct." He reached into his pocket and pulled out a new device-gold, slim, and heavy. He handed it to me. "This phone has one contact in it. Me. If you need to speak, you speak to me. If you need to ask, you ask me. Your world has narrowed, Abigail. Get used to the friction."

As the lift descended toward the boardroom, I looked at the gold phone in my hand. It was a leash made of microchips.

"What happens if I call someone else?" I asked.

Adam didn't even look at me. He just adjusted his cuffs. "Try it and see how fast the bank forecloses on your father's medical facility. I'm a man of my word, Abigail. I expect you to be a woman of yours."

The doors opened. A sea of suits and cameras waited outside. Adam stepped out first, but he didn't leave me behind. He reached back, his hand gripping mine, not a romantic gesture, but a claim.

He led me into the light, and for the first time, I realized the cameras weren't just watching us. They were documenting my disappearance.

In the middle of the board meeting, a surprise visitor arrives-someone from Abigail's past who doesn't know about the contract. Abigail has to decide: follow Adam's "Blackout" rule, or risk everything for a moment of human connection.