Sunlight sliced through the gap in the heavy drapes, hitting Amaris directly in the face. She groaned, rolling over, but the shrill ring of her phone dragged her out of sleep.
She grabbed it, squinting at the screen. Irma Lewis.
Her first instinct was to decline. Her thumb hovered, but the guilt of a lifetime of obedience made her swipe right.
"What is wrong with you?" Irma's voice was a whip crack, devoid of any maternal warmth. "You've ruined everything. The Hoffman alliance is destroyed. Do you have any idea how much money you cost us?"
Amaris sat up, gripping the phone so hard the plastic creaked. She didn't bother defending herself. It was pointless.
"Stop crying," Irma snapped. "It's pathetic. Listen to me. Silas Vane is in town. His family owns half of Connecticut. You will meet him for lunch today and fix this disaster."
Amaris felt sick. Silas Vane was a pig, notorious for his treatment of women. Irma didn't care about her happiness; she only cared about the price tag on her daughter's head.
"No," Amaris said. The word felt foreign on her tongue.
"Excuse me?"
"I said no. I'm not a piece of meat you can sell to the highest bidder," Amaris said, her voice trembling but firm. "And it doesn't matter anyway. I got married yesterday."
Dead silence on the line. Then, a sharp, mocking laugh.
"Married? To who? You're damaged goods, Amaris. No one of value would touch you after that spectacle. Who is it? Some broke bartender?"
Amaris's jaw clenched. "Cristian Lowe."
The laughter stopped instantly. But Irma recovered quickly, her tone turning vicious. "You're lying. And even if you weren't, I'll freeze your trust fund by noon. You'll come crawling back when you can't pay your rent."
"Go ahead," Amaris shot back. "Try it."
She hung up, her hand shaking so badly she dropped the phone on the duvet. She took a deep breath, fighting the panic. She wasn't broke. She had the prenup. She had Cristian.
But she needed to move fast. She rushed to the desk and opened her laptop, logging into the Aura Inc. server.
Her blood ran cold. A board meeting notification was flagged. Irma had called an emergency vote for tomorrow. The agenda: diluting Amaris's shares, citing "emotional instability."
She was trying to steal the company. Her father's company.
Amaris grabbed her phone and dialed her assistant, Dawna. "Get me everything on the board members. Find out who Irma paid off. We're going to war."
A knock on the door made her jump. She slammed the laptop shut.
Cristian walked in, carrying a mug of coffee. He wore a simple white t-shirt and grey sweatpants, his hair still damp from the shower. He looked less like a ruthless CEO and more like a model in a domestic ad.
He set the coffee on the desk, his eyes lingering on the closed laptop for a second too long. He didn't ask.
"What's on your schedule today?" he asked, leaning against the wall.
"I'm going to Hoffman Group to resign," Amaris said, her chin lifting. "I need to end things properly."
Cristian's brow furrowed. He looked like he wanted to argue, but he just gave a curt nod. "Do you want me to go with you?"
"No," Amaris said quickly. "This is my mess. I need to clean it up myself."
Cristian studied her face for a long moment. Then, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a set of car keys. He placed them next to the coffee mug.
"It's the Range Rover in the garage. Armored." He pointed to a small red button on the key fob. "If you're in trouble, hit this. It alerts my security team and tracks your location."
Amaris picked up the keys, her fingers brushing against his. A jolt of electricity shot up her arm. She pulled her hand back, her face flushing.
"Thank you," she mumbled.
Cristian just nodded and left the room. Amaris grabbed her bag and hurried downstairs. She needed to get out of there before the walls started closing in.
She drove out the gates, checking the rearview mirror. Cristian was standing on the front steps, his hands in his pockets, watching her leave. His gaze was heavy, intense, and it followed her all the way down the drive.
