Adam watched Allison vanish into the crowd. His palm still tingled where he'd held her waist—her coat cold beneath his fingers, but underneath, warm, alive.
He turned to his assistant Kip Downs, who stood gaping after her.
"Close your mouth," Adam said flatly. "You look like a gasping fish."
Kip snapped his jaw shut. "That's Allison Montgomery. Your nephew's fiancée, the woman you've been—"
"I know exactly who she is." Adam's voice turned to ice.
He'd watched her for years, long before Finn set eyes on her: tracked her career, every victory. He'd also watched his spoiled, entitled nephew win her over with empty charm and lies.
Not anymore.
"Keep a close eye on her," Adam ordered. "I want every detail—where she goes, who she speaks to, everything."
Kip hesitated. "Adam, she's still technically engaged to Finn."
"That won't last." Adam pulled out his phone and fired off a text to his security team, then strode for the exit, his long legs eating up the floor.
Kip hurried after him. "What about the Japanese investor meeting?"
"Reschedule it."
Kip sighed. Eight years working for Adam had taught him the man bought companies, crushed rivals, and intimidated entire boardrooms—but he'd never looked at a woman the way he'd just looked at Allison.
This was unfamiliar, and dangerous.
---
Allison pushed through the terminal's sliding doors. New York's frigid air bit her cheeks, grounding her.
She hailed a yellow cab and sank into the worn leather backseat. She was not in a condition to drive at that moment—she needed to focus entirely on thinking about what to do next.
The taxi merged onto Van Wyck Expressway.
Her phone sat open on her lap, the damning video saved to cloud storage. She skipped the audio, only watching the silent proof of her shattered engagement: Finn's hands on Cheyanne's hips, their easy, practiced closeness.
Her boiling anger froze solid, hardening into an unbreakable shield around her heart. She slowed her breathing, straightened her spine.
She'd ruin them both.
Twenty minutes later, the cab pulled up before a mansion's towering iron gates. Allison paid the fare and climbed the sweeping limestone steps.
The cold, opulent house reeked of old money. She shoved open the heavy oak front doors. Lilies and expensive floor wax filled the air.
Allison's heels clicked across marble as she rounded into the arched doorway.
Baker, her uncle, slouched in a leather armchair with the Wall Street Journal. His wife Katharine sipped tea from fine porcelain. Cheyanne and Finn huddled together on the velvet sofa, comfortable.
Finn spotted her first. His face blanched; his whiskey glass rattled in his trembling grip.
Cheyanne jumped to her feet, plastering on the overbright fake smile she always wore when lying.
"Allie!" She rushed forward with open arms.
Allison stepped neatly aside, dodging the hug.
Cheyanne stumbled, grabbing at empty air, and fixed her with wide, feigned innocent eyes. "What's wrong?"
Baker slammed his newspaper onto the mahogany coffee table, the crack echoing through the room. "How dare you treat your sister with such disrespect?"
Allison pulled out her phone without a word. She tapped the screen, selected the video, and AirDropped it to the huge fireplace TV. Maxed-out speakers flooded the room with footage of Finn and Cheyanne's affair.
"Tell me I'm better than her."
"You are. God, you are."
Their breathless whispers and moans bounced off the vaulted ceilings.
Katharine gasped, her teacup slipping from her fingers to shatter across a priceless Persian rug, hot tea bleeding into the wool.
Finn lurched forward, scrambling for the remote, his hands shaking violently. "Allison, wait—this isn't what it looks like, turn it off!"
Cheyanne dropped to her knees, breaking into loud, rehearsed sobs, hands buried in her face. "He forced me, Allie. He threatened to hurt himself if I didn't give in."
Allison folded her arms, staring at the chaos with empty eyes, her heartbeat slow and steady. She'd expected Baker—her mother's brother, the man who'd sworn to her dying parents he'd protect her—to cast the cheaters out.
Instead, shock melted into purple rage on his face. He pointed a thick finger straight at her.
"You air our family's private mess on a screen like cheap reality show?" he roared, spit spraying the table. "You have no decency, no respect! How dare you bring this filth into my home?"
Katharine hurried to cradle the weeping Cheyanne, glaring venom at Allison. "This is your fault. Your cold, arrogant distance pushed him to her. You treated him like an employee, not a fiancé."
Finn abandoned his search for the remote, adjusting his tie and leaning into the blame. "Katharine's right. You were always walled off. I craved real connection, and Cheyanne gave it to me. She understands me."
Cheyanne peeked through her fingers, fake tears streaking her cheeks. "I never meant to fall for him, Allie. Please forgive me."
Baker cleared his throat, smoothing his waistcoat, and addressed the room coldly. "To avoid a public scandal, the Montgomery-Kensington alliance will remain intact."
Allison let out a sharp, hollow laugh. "You expect me to marry him still?"
Baker stared at her like she'd lost her mind. "The engagement transfers to Cheyanne. They're clearly a better match. The board relies on the Kensington partnership—we can't risk tanking the stock price."
Katharine stroked Cheyanne's hair in agreement. "Step aside for your sister's happiness. Think of the company, think of the family."
Finn crossed to Cheyanne and laced their fingers together, glancing at Allison with something resembling pity. "I'm sorry it ended this way, but we were never right. You'll find someone equally cold someday."
Allison swept her gaze over the four of them: uncle, aunt, sister, fiancé. Four people united to rewrite the truth and paint her as the villain. The absurdity snapped her last emotional tie to this family.
The years of overworking, fighting to prove herself, swallowing every slight and heartache vanished in an instant, replaced by a hollow, terrifying lightness.
She did not scream. She did not cry. She nodded slowly, a calm, frigid smile tugging at her lips—never touching her eyes.
"Fine. But make no mistake, I am the one who walks away from this engagement. Finn is principless, disloyal, and utterly worthless — and I want nothing to do with him. Since my sister has such peculiar taste and favors this kind of man, I will be generous enough to hand him over to her."
Silence crashed over the room. Cheyanne stared at her, stunned and speechless.
Allison turned without another word and walked toward her bedroom.
