Lumière is bustling with the lunch crowd when I arrive—Manhattan's elite spending more on a single meal than most people earn in a week. The maître d' recognizes me immediately.

"Mrs. Knight," he says, using the name I haven't yet officially taken. "Your guest is waiting in the private dining room."


News travels fast in Ethan's world, it seems. I follow the maître d' through the main dining room, aware of the curious glances and whispers that follow me. By tomorrow, everyone in New York's high society will know that Ethan Knight has suddenly acquired both a wife and a child.

Marcus rises as I enter the private dining room, his handsome face breaking into a warm smile. At thirty-eight, he's still as striking as when we met in Singapore three years ago—tall, with sharp cheekbones and intelligent eyes that miss nothing.

"Olivia," he says, kissing my cheek. "Or should I say Mrs. Knight?"


"Not until this evening," I reply, taking my seat. "Though apparently the news has already spread."

"Ethan Knight sneezes and it makes the business pages," Marcus observes dryly. "His sudden marriage will be front-page news."


A waiter appears with champagne, pouring two glasses before discreetly withdrawing.

"To new beginnings," Marcus says, raising his glass in a toast that echoes Ethan's from last night.

I take a small sip, then set the glass down. "Let's skip the pleasantries. What did you find out about Diana's meeting with Maxwell Pierce?"

Marcus's expression turns serious. "They're planning something big. My source at Pierce Industries says Maxwell has been liquidating assets, raising capital for a major acquisition. And three days ago, Diana Morgan transferred a significant sum from her personal accounts to an offshore holding company."

"Which company?"

"Chimera Holdings," Marcus replies. "Registered in the Cayman Islands, virtually untraceable. But my contact at the bank says the transfer authorization was signed by both Diana and Cassandra Morgan."

I absorb this information, pieces of a puzzle beginning to align in my mind. "They're making a move against Morgan Group. Or against me."

"Or both," Marcus suggests. "The timing of your return to New York, the Morgan Group's financial troubles, your marriage to Ethan Knight—it's stirred up the hornet's nest."

"Good," I say, a cold smile playing at my lips. "Let them scramble. It will make them careless."

Marcus studies me across the table. "Are you sure about this marriage, Olivia? Ethan Knight is not a man to be manipulated easily."

"I'm not manipulating him," I reply, though we both know it's not entirely true. "We have an arrangement that benefits us both."

"And when he discovers your true purpose in returning to New York? Your plans for Cassandra and Diana?"

I trace the rim of my champagne glass, considering. "By then, it will be too late. I'll have what I need."

"And Leo?" Marcus asks gently. "What happens to him when this all explodes?"

The question hits a nerve. Leo—my innocent son, caught in the middle of a revenge plot he knows nothing about. I've justified every move as securing his birthright, his future. But am I really protecting him, or using him as I'm using Ethan?

"Leo will be fine," I say with more confidence than I feel. "He'll have both his parents, regardless of how this ends."

Marcus looks unconvinced but knows better than to press the issue. "What's our next move?"

"Proceed with the Morgan Group acquisition," I instruct. "My marriage to Ethan will actually help—the board will see it as strengthening Ascendant Group's position. Meanwhile, continue monitoring Diana and Cassandra. I want to know every move they make."

"And your father?" Marcus asks. "Charles Morgan has been asking questions about Ascendant Group's president. It's only a matter of time before he discovers who you really are."

My father—the man who chose my stepsister over me, who believed the worst without question, who cut me off without a penny when I needed him most. The thought of facing him again sends a mixture of rage and pain through my chest.

"Let him wonder," I say coldly. "When the time is right, I'll reveal myself. Not before."

Our main courses arrive—seared scallops for me, steak for Marcus. As we eat, the conversation shifts to business matters—the details of the Morgan Group acquisition, the restructuring plans for their Asian division, the financial projections for the next quarter.

This is the part of my life I've built entirely on my own—Ascendant Group, rising from nothing to become a formidable player in international finance in just three years. My revenge may be personal, but my business success is entirely legitimate. I've worked too hard to build this company to let it become collateral damage in my war against those who wronged me.

As lunch concludes, Marcus reaches across the table to take my hand, his thumb brushing over the massive diamond on my finger. "Quite a rock," he observes. "Ethan Knight doesn't do anything by halves, does he?"

"No," I agree, withdrawing my hand. "He doesn't."

"Will you be happy, Olivia?" Marcus asks suddenly, his expression serious. "Even for a year, living with a man you don't love, playing a role?"

The question catches me off guard. Happiness hasn't been my goal for five years—survival first, then revenge. The concept of personal contentment seems almost foreign now.

"I'll be satisfied," I say finally. "When justice is done."

Marcus shakes his head slightly. "Justice and revenge aren't the same thing, my friend."

Before I can respond, the dining room door opens and Julian, the restaurant's owner, appears with a bottle of wine.

"Mrs. Knight," he says with a deferential nod. "Mr. Knight asked that I personally deliver this to your table. It's a 1982 Château Lafite Rothschild—to celebrate your engagement."

I stare at the bottle, worth thousands of dollars, another casual display of Ethan's wealth and influence. And his surveillance—how else would he know I was lunching with Marcus?

"How thoughtful," I say smoothly. "Please thank my fiancé for me."

Julian opens the wine with practiced efficiency, pouring a small amount for me to taste. It's exquisite, of course—rich and complex with notes of cedar and blackcurrant.

"Perfect," I approve, and he fills both our glasses before departing.

"Well," Marcus says with a raised eyebrow. "It seems your future husband is keeping tabs on you already."

"So it seems," I reply, irritation and something else—something uncomfortably like attraction—warring within me. Ethan Knight is marking his territory, reminding me that even when not physically present, his influence extends everywhere.

Two can play that game.

I raise my glass to Marcus. "Take a picture," I instruct. "Make it look intimate."

Marcus understands immediately, leaning closer as I tilt my head toward him, a smile playing at my lips. He snaps the photo with his phone—a beautiful woman and handsome man, heads close together over expensive wine, looking for all the world like lovers sharing a secret.

"Send it to me," I say, and moments later my phone buzzes with the image.

I forward it to Ethan with a simple message: *"The wine is excellent. Thank you for your generosity."*

Let him wonder about Marcus, about my relationship with this handsome man who clearly adores me. Let him feel a fraction of the uncertainty and powerlessness I've lived with for five years.

As we leave the restaurant, Marcus offers to drive me to my next meeting. In the privacy of his car, he asks the question I've been avoiding.

"What happens if you fall for him, Olivia? Ethan Knight is exactly your type—brilliant, driven, powerful."

"I won't," I say firmly. "This is business, nothing more."

Marcus gives me a sidelong glance. "The heart doesn't always follow the brain's instructions."

"Mine does," I insist. "It has to."

Because the alternative is unthinkable—developing genuine feelings for a man who might have been part of my destruction, or who might break my heart when he discovers the truth about my return to New York.

Either way, I can't afford emotional entanglement. Not when I'm so close to everything I've worked for.

My phone buzzes with Ethan's reply to the photo: *"Enjoy your lunch. Leo and I are having a wonderful day getting to know each other. See you at 6."*

Attached is a picture of Leo and Ethan at the Central Park Zoo, my son perched on Ethan's shoulders, both of them grinning widely at the camera. They look like they've known each other forever, like the father and son they biologically are.

Something twists in my chest—pride at Leo's happiness, fear at how quickly he's bonding with Ethan, and a strange longing for the normal family life I never thought I wanted.

"Everything okay?" Marcus asks, noting my expression.

I lock my phone screen, pushing away the confusing emotions. "Everything's proceeding exactly as planned."

But as we drive through Manhattan's busy streets toward my next meeting, I can't shake the feeling that I'm losing control of my carefully constructed narrative. Ethan Knight was supposed to be a means to an end—a resource to exploit, a shield to hide behind while I executed my revenge.

Instead, he's becoming a wild card, an unpredictable element in my meticulously planned game. And the most dangerous part? A small, traitorous part of me is beginning to wonder what it would be like if this marriage of convenience were real.

That thought, more than anything, terrifies me. Because I've survived this long by keeping my heart locked away, safe from the kind of betrayal that nearly destroyed me once before.

And I have no intention of giving anyone—especially Ethan Knight—the power to destroy me again.