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I stare at the text message.

Elias

He took the bait.

Two thousand dollars hit the dummy account.

Liam’s working on a trace.

I quickly type a reply.

Ethan

He’s careful—starting small.

Keep me posted.

Working my jaw, I grip my phone, my mind swirling with questions.

Something’s been bothering me, and I know Elias feels the same way.

Why does Dayton want Fleur money?

The sums are insignificant to his net worth now.

What is the whole point of this embezzlement?

What are we missing?

Frustration is a bitter taste on my tongue as I pace in front of my office windows.

Dark clouds cloak the city as buildings come alive with glowing lights.

Knock. Knock.

“Come in.”

I smell the familiar hint of lavender before I turn around.

Breathing in deeply, I relax my muscles.

“Lexy. Still here?”

“I thought I’d wait for you.” She smiles, her thick hair arranged in a loose braid today, her curvy figure molding to the tan dress she has on .

I pull her in for a brief kiss, mindful of the nosy eyes outside my office.

Even though our relationship is out in the open, there’s no need to flaunt it.

Lexy wouldn’t want that.

“Dealing with the auditors again—going to put in more hours tonight. Don’t wait for me.”

Her brows furrow.

“You look extra stressed. Why don’t I stay and keep you company? I’ll read a book or work on my online assignments.”

“I’ll get nothing done if you’re here. It’ll be a distraction.” I brush my finger on her nose and her cheeks pinken.

“Need I remind you what happened at The Orchid last weekend?”

She flushes, no doubt thinking about our passionate, semi-public sex inside Trésor.

I may have hauled her back home right after the performance, the caveman inside me refusing to let any other red-blooded male see my Lexy with her post-orgasmic glow.

“Fine. But are we still on tomorrow?”

“You and me enjoying a quiet morning at Ravenswood, then heading back to the apartment for another cooking adventure?” I wink.

“Can’t wait.”

Alexis grins and presses a soft kiss on my cheek.

“Fine. Good luck with your CFO stuff then. I’ll go back to my apartment and be a good girl tonight.”

She throws me a saucy wink and walks toward the door.

My blood heats as I watch her sashay away from me.

But suddenly, a chill sweeps inside me.

“Did you call a car?” Goosebumps prickle my forearms. I glance at the darkened skies outside.

Unease. Similar to how I felt on the stormy night that changed our lives.

“Yes, the driver’s on his way. You and my brothers are colluding, aren’t you? No one wants me to drive, I swear.” She tsks and wags her finger.

The pressure in my chest eases slightly.

“Good. We’re just worried. ”

“I know, but you guys have to let go sometime. Love you. Don’t work too hard.” She blows me a kiss and walks out of my office.

Olivia mentioned I might have PTSD.

She brought it up yesterday during our call to discuss the expansion of Letters of Hope.

“Lexy’s doing well, Ethan. Aside from her memory and her limp, she’s fine. More than fine. Tay’s right. Her best friend is resilient,” Olivia comments.

I hear a rustling noise on her line, followed by the keyboard tapping sounds.

“I know.”

“I sense a but.”

I’m not one to pour out my thoughts—it makes me uneasy.

But seeing how much she’s helped Maxwell with his anxiety, I try anyway.

“I can’t get rid of this feeling that something bad will happen. That I’m too happy, and the last time I felt this way, my life got ripped away from me.”

The typing stops.

“Have you considered talking to someone, Ethan? Not me if you feel uncomfortable. This isn’t a professional intake or diagnosis, but you’ve been through a very traumatic experience—almost losing someone you love and being stuck in a limbo state for so long. It can be PTSD. You don’t need to feel this way forever.”

Exhaling, I stride back to my desk.

Distraction. Routines.

Things to refocus my mind and to distract myself from the storm cloud swirling in my gut.

I spend the next hour tuning out my worries, working through emails, proposals, budget reviews, and audit requests.

As I’m jotting down my questions on a project forecast, my phone buzzes.

An unknown number.

“Hello? Anderson speaking.”

Silence fills the line.

The unease I shoved away comes roaring back.

Glancing at my phone, I notice the call is still connected.

Normally, I’d assume this was a spam call and would hang up, but something stops me .

“Hello? Who’s this?” The hairs rise on the back of my neck.

Finally, I hear a ragged breath.

“Ethan, this is Dayton. Dayton Holden.”

Every atom inside me stills, focused on the voice coming across the line.

“To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“Let’s drop the bullshit. You’re looking into me and I know it.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Greenwich Housekeeping Services. Really, you think I’m stupid?”

Quickly, I hit the record button on my phone in case the asshole says something incriminating.

“I’d ask you how you knew about our housekeeping vendors, but I suspect you’ll enlighten me.”

“You saw the two grand move. I’d tell you there’s more to this than you know, but if you don’t believe me, then I guess we have nothing to talk about.”

Drumming my fingers on the table, my mind races as the silence stretches on.

The asshole didn’t specifically admit to anything, but it’s safe to say the jig is up.

He knows we’ve caught him red-handed, and now he wants to trade something for leniency.

“What do you want, then? I’m a busy man.”

“I’m sure you have questions. Why is Fleur targeted? Why the small amounts? I have your answers, but I’m not doing this over the phone. Meet me on the Delfina in fifteen minutes. No cops. No wires. Nothing shady or else I’m gone.”

The Delfina is still parked in the Hudson as the crew finishes maintenance after the Christmas Ball.

“You’re insane if you think I’m meeting you at all.”

He scoffs.

“Not insane. I just happen to have something—or someone —you care about.”

My stomach plunges, the ground suddenly unsteady beneath me.

“What. Did. You. Say? ”

“Got your attention, didn’t I?” I can almost hear the sinister smile in his voice.

“If you care about Lexy, you’ll show up. Alone.”

“You motherfucker,” I rasp and force myself to calm down, to not give away my panic.

“What makes you think I care about her enough to show up?” My pulse thunders in my ears, my hand gripping my phone in a vise.

Lexy. Fuck, if he has her, I’ll—

Dayton snorts.

“Drop the act. Your behavior at the ball told me everything. I don’t have her right now. But like I said, there’s more to this than you know. Aren’t you curious how she ended up in the Hudson all those years ago? A car accident but no witnesses or photos from traffic cams?”

My breathing grows thready.

The cops ruled it as an accident—a rainy day and an inexperienced driver.

Charles and Liam believed it.

I was too overwhelmed with grief to question it.

But now…my tightly leashed control snaps.

“You piece of shit! If you harm one hair on her head, I’ll find you no matter where you go. I’ll tear you apart, limb by limb until you lose your voice from screaming. I’ll—”

“Save your breath. You want answers? You want Lexy safe? There are people out there who won’t hesitate to hurt her again. Meet me on the Delfina and I’ll explain everything. No time to waste, Anderson.”

Shit.

Fucking shit. I tug my hair and pace in front of my desk.

I won’t survive if anything happens to Lexy.

My heart throbs behind my rib cage, as if reminding me of the pain I endured when she was asleep—the torture that was worse than death.

I can’t let anything happen to her.

“How do I know you don’t have something up your sleeve?” Every atom inside me screams, this is a trap .

“You don’t. But you and I want what’s best for Lexy. If you want to keep her safe, you’ll show up.”

He hangs up and ice fills my veins.

My mind sweeps to the woman I love—the brilliant hair, the mischievous smirk, the life and energy finally shining in her eyes.

Eight long excruciating years, not knowing if she’d ever wake up, stubbornly holding on when everyone around her, her brothers included, spoke about her in past tense, as if she were already gone.

I’ll die before anything happens to you.

My vow to her at the swimming pool.

Nothing will happen to Nova.

Not if I can help it.

Quickly, I send a text.

Then I grab my car keys and rush out the door.

Twenty minutes later, I arrive at the pier, a frigid gust burrowing deep into my bones as I walk toward the dark cruise ship.

I’m late, but the damn bastard should know it’s impossible to get anywhere in New York City within fifteen minutes during rush hour.

It’s unusually quiet tonight, not a single soul loitering about, which in and of itself is an eerie sight in one of the busiest cities in the world.

It may have something to do with the police activity a block away—a ten-car pileup, which cordoned off most of the surrounding streets.

Even so, my sixth sense is waving red flags.

The dry air singes my lungs—it’s now the end of January, and there has been no snowfall in the city, another harbinger to doom if I were to believe in that stuff the way Lexy does.

Harbinger or not, I’ll protect Nova with everything I have.

Huffing out a breath, I swing my legs over the railing, landing on the boat with a quiet thud.

I curse myself for not keeping a gun in my car and I pray to God this doesn’t end in me coming out in a body bag.

Because I still want my lifetime with Nova.

Swinging by the kitchen, I grab a knife before I slip back out onto the deck, finally spotting a faint glow coming from a suite ahead.

I creep toward the light, my heart racing, my breathing thin.

Find him, get answers, get out, that’s my pl—

“You’re late.”

Before I can turn around, pain explodes in my temple, and I briefly register the warm trickle of blood as the ground rushes up to greet me.

Darkness swallows me whole.