Back in the sterile safety of her apartment, Eliana created a new, anonymous email address.
She attached the photos from City Hall and a carefully edited audio clip of their lies. The subject line was simple and devastating: Designer Ethan Reed's Secret Wedding to Stepsister Ashley Thorne?
She sent it to the top three gossip blogs in New York City.
It was a time bomb. It wouldn't destroy them, not yet. But it would create chaos, a media storm that would keep them distracted and buy her precious time.
With the email sent, she stared at her reflection in the dark screen of her laptop. The woman looking back was a stranger-her eyes hard, her jaw set. The soft, romantic girl from yesterday was gone forever.
She couldn't fight her father and Preston Carlisle alone. She needed power. She needed an ally so formidable that Marcus Thorne wouldn't dare to cross him.
Her father's own words came back to her. The capital from that marriage will be just what I need to crush her uncle's little business. And who was her father's biggest competitor in the jewelry industry?
Jaxon Hernandez.
The CEO of Aethelred & Co. A name that was whispered with a mixture of fear and awe on Wall Street. All she knew of him came from magazine covers-a face carved from granite, eyes that seemed to see right through you, a reputation for being ruthless and untouchable.
The enemy of my enemy is my friend.
But how could she possibly get to a man like that?
She needed a plan. And for that plan, she needed one more document. She grabbed her purse and drove back to the one place she never wanted to see again.
City Hall.
As she walked towards the records office to get a certified copy of her single status, a commotion near the marriage bureau caught her attention.
A man stood with his back to her, tall and imposing in a perfectly tailored black suit. He radiated an aura of pure, undiluted power. Even from behind, she could feel the arctic chill coming off him. His assistant, a nervous-looking man in his thirties, was speaking to him in a hushed, frantic tone.
Eliana slowed her steps, her curiosity piqued.
"Mr. Hernandez," the assistant whispered, "this is the fourth time Ms. Sinclair has missed the appointment. Our window is closing..."
Hernandez.
Eliana's heart gave a violent lurch. It couldn't be.
The man cut his assistant off with a sharp, almost imperceptible gesture. "I'm aware, Adrian." His voice was low and resonant, like stones grinding together. It was laced with a dangerous combination of fury and profound irritation.
Then he turned.
It was him. The face from the magazines, only more intense, more intimidating in person. His jaw was clenched so tightly a muscle jumped along his cheek. His eyes, a startlingly dark shade of gray, scanned the room with cold dismissal. She saw the flicker of raw humiliation in them, the barely contained rage of a powerful man made to look like a fool.
A wild, desperate idea sparked in Eliana's mind. It was insane. It was impossible.
It was her only shot.
He started to walk away, his long strides eating up the marble floor. It was now or never.
Adrenaline surged through her. She broke into a run, her heels clicking frantically against the stone. She planted herself directly in his path.
"Excuse me," she said, her voice coming out breathless.
Two large bodyguards moved to intercept her, but Jaxon stopped them with a single, cold glance.
He looked down at her, his gaze piercing and utterly devoid of warmth. "Yes?" The word was a shard of ice.
Eliana met his eyes, her heart pounding a deafening rhythm against her ribs. She forced her own fear down, channeling all her desperation into this one moment.
"Mr. Hernandez," she began, her voice shaking only slightly. "Your bride didn't show up. My groom ran off with my stepsister. I need a husband to escape my father, and you need a wife to save face. So... how about we get married?"
The air in the grand hall seemed to freeze. The assistant, Adrian, looked like he was about to faint. The bodyguards stared, mouths agape.
For the first time, an emotion other than cold fury registered in Jaxon Hernandez's eyes. It was a flicker of stunned disbelief, quickly followed by a sharp, calculating curiosity.
He stared at her, his gaze so intense it felt like he was dissecting her soul.
Eliana held his gaze, refusing to look away. She let him see the desperation, but also the unyielding determination in her eyes. This was not a joke. This was survival.
An eternity seemed to pass in silence. Then, he turned his head slightly and murmured something to Adrian.
The assistant fumbled with a tablet, his fingers flying across the screen. A few moments later, he turned the screen towards Jaxon. Eliana knew it was her file-her name, her connection to Parsons, her family.
Jaxon's eyes scanned the information, lingering for a fraction of a second on the words "stepdaughter of Marcus Thorne."
He looked back at her. His lips, which had been a thin, hard line, parted slightly.
"Your terms," he said.
Eliana's knees almost buckled with relief. She had done it. In the biggest gamble of her life, she had just won herself a fighting chance.
