The Runaway Heiress Returns For Revenge

The Rolls-Royce glided into the private VIP garage beneath the Starlight Corporation headquarters in Midtown Manhattan. The engine died, and the soft interior lights flickered on, casting Gage's face in sharp, unforgiving angles. The space between them felt charged, electric.

Adelina shoved hard against his chest, the solid muscle unyielding. "The game is over. Let me out." She reached for the door handle, but it wouldn't budge. The child lock was still engaged.

She turned back to him, her eyes flashing with fury. "Unlock the door, Gage. I don't have time for this."

He didn't move. Instead, he reached slowly into the inner pocket of his suit jacket and produced a checkbook. It was black leather, embossed with the golden crest of Apex Capital. He uncapped a heavy Montblanc pen.

With a few fluid, arrogant strokes, he wrote on the top check, his movements an elegant display of power. He tore it out along the perforated line and held it out to her, pinched between two fingers.

Adelina's gaze dropped. Her eyes widened slightly.

Ten million dollars.

"This world will eat you alive," he said, his voice a low, insulting drawl. "This is easier. Take it. Go back to Paris. Go back to your galleries and your safety. This fight isn't for you."

The words were a slap in the face. The check was the salt in the wound. He thought he could buy her off. He thought her a spoiled princess who could be placated with a toy.

Blood rushed to her head, hot and furious.

She didn't take the check. She laughed, a short, sharp, humorless sound. "Do you really believe every woman has a price tag, Gage? Or just the ones you've broken?"

Before he could answer, she snatched the check from his fingers. The paper felt flimsy, insulting.

And she ripped it in half.

Then in half again.

She threw the small white pieces of paper at him. They fluttered down onto the lap of his expensive, custom-made suit like bitter confetti.

He didn't flinch, but she saw his hand, the one still holding the pen, tighten for a fraction of a second.

She leaned in close, her voice a venomous whisper near his ear. "Starlight was my grandfather's life's work. It's my mother's legacy. It is mine. And I am taking it back. You're just a parasite, Gage. A vulture who got rich through marriages and mergers. You don't understand what it means to build something. To have a legacy."

His jaw clenched so hard a muscle jumped. A flicker of raw, genuine pain crossed his eyes, so fast she almost missed it.

Then it was gone, replaced by ice.

His hand shot out, grabbing her wrist. His grip was like a steel manacle. His thumb pressed down, hard, directly onto the frantic pulse point on the inside of her wrist. He could feel the wild, panicked thrum of her heart through her skin.

"You have no idea what you're walking into," he hissed, his voice dangerously low. "Handy and Javon aren't spoiled socialites. They're sharks. They will tear you apart, and they will enjoy doing it."

His words were meant to be a warning, but they sounded like a threat.

She wrenched her arm free, a red mark already forming on her skin where his fingers had been.

Adelina lifted her chin, her eyes blazing. She felt like a queen going to war. "Don't worry about me. I got rid of you, didn't I? After that, how bad can a couple of sharks be?"

The barb hit its mark.

The air went out of him. Just for a second. A stillness came over his face, a flicker of devastation so profound it was terrifying.

Then, nothing. His face was a blank mask. He reached forward and pressed the unlock button on the center console.

A soft click echoed in the silence.

Adelina didn't hesitate. She threw open the door and stepped out onto the cold concrete of the garage. Her heels clicked with defiant purpose.

The driver was already at the back of the car, holding her Rimowa suitcase. She took it without a word and marched toward the security checkpoint for the executive elevator, never once looking back.

Inside the car, Gage watched her go, her back ramrod straight, a solitary figure of defiance. The pain in his stomach, which had subsided to a dull ache, now twisted into a searing, white-hot agony. He fumbled in his coat, his hand shaking slightly as he pulled out his phone.

He dialed his assistant. "Launch Plan B," he rasped, his voice hoarse with pain. "Start buying up Starlight's publicly traded shares. All of them. Now."

He hung up, dry-swallowed a pill from a small vial in his pocket, and waited for the fire in his gut to recede. Then, he pushed open his door and followed her toward the same elevator, a silent, unseen guardian angel cloaked in the guise of a devil.