Debt Of Honour.

Elara Vance had not come to the glass-and-steel heart of the city to beg for a miracle. She had come for war.

She stood on the shimmering pavement outside the Vane Group headquarters, her knuckles white as she gripped the handles of her father's wheelchair. Beside her, her younger brother, Kain, looked up at the skyscraper with a mixture of terror and wonder. The building was a monolith of arrogance-the kind of place that swallowed people's lives and spat them out as quarterly earnings.

"We don't have to be here, Elara," her father whispered, his voice a dry rasp. He clutched an oxygen tank between his knees, his face pale under the afternoon sun.

"We can just... go."

"No, Papa. We aren't going anywhere," Elara said, her voice trembling with a fury she didn't bother to hide. She reached into her pocket and felt the crisp edges of the subpoena. "This is ancestral land. Mama's garden is the only thing we have left of her. They aren't taking it."

She pushed the wheelchair toward the revolving doors.

"Miss, you can't bring that in here," a security guard snapped, stepping into her path. He was a mountain of a man with a radio clipped to his shoulder and eyes that had seen too many desperate people.

"It's a wheelchair, not a weapon," Elara snapped back. "My father is a citizen, and this company is acting illegally. I have a court-ordered stay of execution for the Floral Essence property. Move."

She tried to shove past, her heart hammering against her ribs. The guard's hand closed around her upper arm-firm and unyielding.

"I said, " out."

"Let go of her!" Kain shouted, trying to push the guard's hand away.

The commotion drew a crowd. Within minutes, the sidewalk was no longer a thoroughfare; it was a stage. Elara didn't cry. She didn't retreat. Instead, she reached into her bag and pulled out the placards she and Kain had painted the night before.

STOP CORPORATE LAND THEFT.

FLORAL ESSENCE IS NOT FOR SALE.

THE POOR DESERVES JUSTICE.

"The Vane Group is stealing land from a dying man!" Elara's voice rang out, clear and sharp. "Thirty years of sweat and history, erased because a billionaire wants a better view! Is this how the Vanes do business?"

Inside the building, thirty floors up, the air was filtered and smelled of expensive sandalwood. Julian Vane sat in his high-backed leather chair, staring at the woman on the security monitor. He felt a dull throb behind his eyes.

"She's making a scene, Julian," his mother, Victoria Vane, said. She was pacing the office like a panther in a silk suit. "It's embarrassing. The stock is already sensitive because of the merger."

"I can see that, Mother," Julian said, his voice level.

"You need to fix your image," Victoria hissed, leaning over his desk. "Your father's will was not a suggestion. You secure the energy contract, you get married, and you provide an heir. If you don't, the board will vote me in as Chair, and you'll be lucky to manage a parking lot."

Julian looked over at the sofa. Genevieve Hartley sat there, her legs crossed, eyes glued to her phone. She was the daughter of a Vane business partner-well-bred, silent, and utterly hollow.

"I'm not marrying a statue, Mother," Julian said.

"You'll marry whoever protects this empire!" Victoria snapped. She turned on her heel and stormed toward the door. "Handle that girl downstairs. Now."

The elevator doors opened to a lobby filled with whispers. Victoria Vane stepped out first, her heels clicking like a countdown. She marched straight through the glass doors, her security detail scrambling to keep up.

She stopped inches from Elara's face. "What is this rubbish?" Victoria asked, her voice dripping with disgust. "Dragging a sick man into the street for a cheap stunt? Have you no shame?"

"Shame?" Elara laughed, a cold, jagged sound. "You're bulldozing a garden that's been in my family for three generations. You sent thugs to threaten my father while he was in bed. And you're asking me about shame?"

"Know your place, girl," Victoria said, her eyes flashing. "You're a footnote in a real estate deal. Get this filth off my sidewalk." She heads for her car.

The world went red for Elara. She reached into her grocery bag and pulled out a single egg-intended for her father's breakfast. With a snap of her wrist, she hurled it.

Splat.

The egg shattered against the pristine windshield of Victoria's black Maybach. The yellow yolk slid slowly down the glass like a golden tear.

The silence that followed was deafening. Victoria's face twisted into something monstrous. "Arrest her! I want her in a cell!"

"Mother. Enough."

Julian stepped out from the shadows of the lobby. He was taller than he looked on the monitors, his presence heavy and suffocating. He caught his mother's arm just as she raised it to strike Elara.

"The press is recording, Mother," he whispered sharply. "Look at the cameras. Do you want the headline to be 'Billionaire Assaults the Grieving?"

Victoria stiffened. She forced a chilling, practiced smile. "Fix it, Julian," she muttered through gritted teeth. "Or I will."

She climbed into the car and sped away, leaving Julian standing face-to-face with the girl from his past.

"So," Julian said, his eyes scanning Elara's face. "It really is you. Elara Vance."

"And you're still the same arrogant prick you were in college," Elara spat. "Only now you have a bigger building to hide in."

Julian's jaw tightened. He remembered the Dean's Prom-the way she had laughed in his face when he asked her to dance, and the way the red wine felt as it soaked through his shirt. "You haven't changed. Still fighting losing battles."

"This isn't college, Julian. This is my father's life. Call off the bulldozers."

"Lower your voice and come inside," Julian commanded. "We'll resolve this in my office."

"I'm not going anywhere with you," Elara said, stepping back. "Kidnapping is still a crime."

"Elara... please," Kain whispered, tugging her sleeve. "I've always wanted to see the top floor. Just for a minute?"

Julian scoffed, looking at Kain's worn-out sneakers. "He wouldn't even smell the doors in his next three lifetimes. Be grateful I'm even offering."

"He goes where I go, or we stay right here until the evening news arrives," Elara countered.

Julian's chief of security leaned in. "Sir, the crowd is growing. The optics are terrible."

Julian let out a sharp breath. "Fine. Both of you. Get in the lift before I change my mind."

Upstairs, the office was a temple of luxury. Genevieve was still there, looking bored. She didn't even look up as Elara marched in, smelling of garden soil and defiance.

"Sit," Julian said.

"I'll stand," Elara replied. She threw the subpoena onto his mahogany desk. "That's a stay of execution. If your men touch one rosebush, I'll sue you for every penny this building is worth."

Julian didn't look at the paper. He looked at Elara. He saw the fire in her, the way she stood between him and her brother like a shield. He looked at Genevieve, who was yawning. An idea, cold and brilliant, sparked in his mind.

"Marry me," Julian said.

The silence that followed was absolute. Kain dropped his soda. Genevieve's phone clattered to the floor.

"Excuse me?" Genevieve gasped, standing up.

Elara stared at him for three seconds before she burst out laughing. "You've finally lost it. You're insane. You need a medical checkup, Julian, not a wife."

"I'm perfectly sane," Julian said, leaning back. "I need to marry and..

Marry me and the debt is settled."

Genevieve turned purple. "You're pathetic! You'd pick this... this street rat over me? My family owns thirty percent of this company's shares, Julian! I can't sit here and have you insult me. You'll regret this!"

She grabbed her bag and stormed out, the door slamming behind her.

Elara shook her head, her voice trembling with a mix of shock and anger. "You've always had terrible taste in women, Julian. And if you think I'm that desperate, you're wrong. We have our documents. We'll see you in court."

She turned and marched out, Kain scurrying behind her.

Julian watched her go. He didn't look angry. He reached down and picked up the subpoena she had left behind, a slow, dangerous smile spreading across his face.

"We'll see, Elara," he whispered to the empty room. "We'll see."