Giselle's POVMy lungs drew wheezing gasps as I struggled with the bindings that secured my wrists. The bite of cold metal chilled me to the bone, yet my head was too occupied with the terror screaming down my throat. Darkness churned down the chill grey walls in the faint light within the room, and the figure before me still had something in shadows.I made myself stay calm. Judge. Interpret. Survive."The one who's been watching you from the very beginning."The voice made my blood run cold. It wasn't Victor. No. This was worse than that.The woman stepped forward, and my blood froze.Amara.She wore a designer black silk dress, her dark eyes glinting with sadistic pleasure. A twisted smile played on her lips as she lounged against a table that was stacked with files—my files.I swallowed. "What in the devil are you doing here?"She moved in closer. "Did you really think Victor was your only issue, Giselle?"My stomach twisted. "You set me up."She smiled. "Oh, dear, I've done more
Giselle's POVThe Miami streets all blurred into one as I ran, my heart beating furiously in my ears. My arm ached from the laceration I'd gotten on the broken glass, but I didn't slow down. I couldn't. Not yet.The city lights flashed before me, a stark reminder that there was life elsewhere while mine had been derailed.Patrick lied to me.That understanding socked me in the gut.Patrick. The man I'd trusted. The man I'd once—No.I bit back the spit that had welling up into my mouth. Now was not the moment to lose control.I required a plan. Immediately.The Unexpected RescueA black SUV crept up before me. My body was primed to make a run, but then the door opened and a shout released."Giselle! Get in!"My eyes widened. Nicholas.I didn't hesitate, jumping into the vehicle and barely getting the door closed as he moved away from the curb.He looked at me, his face furrowed in concern. "Jesus, Gigi. You're bleeding."I was having trouble breathing. "It's not really at the top of my
Giselle's POVWind howled through empty Miami streets as we went deeper into the heart of the city's darkness. Nicholas sat beside me, fingers drumming a restless rhythm along the dashboard. Luca, always the puppet master of good nature, drove, smile never faltering as he steered the car through the streets cut off to us.I had too much going through my head to bother with where we were headed. Patrick's confession had been echoing in my mind like a broken record. They have my sister. His gruff, desperate tone had made me shiver.Had I misjudged him?No. I couldn't risk trusting him.I leaned my forehead against the glass, trying to drown out the storm of emotion raging through my insides.Luca’s voice broke the silence. "Alright, princess, enough brooding. We’re here."I turned my gaze to the building in front of us. It was a run-down warehouse, its metal structure rusting under the Miami humidity. A single light flickered above the entrance, casting eerie shadows on the cracked pave
Patrick's POVMy heart pounded in my ears as I stepped out of the private train in Miami. The storm brewed in the air, ready to unleash itself upon the city. My mother followed me, her expression a mask under the brimmed hat that shaded her from the sun.I had to keep my head in business, but my head was not there.Giselle.Something didn't feel right. I could sense it in my bones.My phone vibrated. I glanced down. Message from an unknown number."Your girl is in trouble. Yacht Club. Come alone."My stomach twisting. Was it a setup?I clenched my fists. It didn't matter. If Giselle was in trouble, I'd charge into hell itself for her.The ArrivalI sped to the Yacht Club, my knuckles pale and white on the steering wheel. When I got there, it was pandemonium. Sirens blared in the distance, red and blue lights flashing.Nicholas stood outside an ambulance, his shirt smeared with blood. My stomach fell.I pushed my way through to him. "Where is she?!"He turned to me, face enraged. "She'
Giselle's POVAche.Thick, pounding ache cut through me as I tried to pry open my eyes. My eyelids were like concrete boulders, my muscles like they had anchors tied around them. The acrid stench of antiseptic filled my nostrils, the persistent beep of a heart monitor resonating in my ears.I lived. By a thread.Tearing my eyelids open, I blinked against the harsh, sawtooth fluorescent light overhead. My eyes winced before clearing, and I caught a glimpse of the antiseptic white walls of a hospital room. A searing pain ran along my side as I shifted, recalling the knife Victor drove into me.The door creaked open, and the smiling face burst in.Nicholas.Relief flooded his face as he came to my bedside and gripped my hand tightly. "Gigi. oh, God you're awake."I swallowed thickly against the dry, parched sensation in my throat. "What. happened?"Nicholas gasped for breath. "We pulled you out. Barely. Victor got away, but we overpowered his men. Luca is chasing after him now."I winced
Giselle's POVI trembled so violently that I relived what I had seen. My mother's face—breathtakingly and wondrously familiar yet several years older—calling to me from behind that SUV window. Her voice. That voice. Her enigmatic warning destroying everything I believed I knew, its very essence.She was alive.Her words struck my chest with physical strength.Nicholas paced back and forth across the living room, jaw set, eyes thoughtful with secrets he wasn't going to tell. "We have to be careful about this," he said at last. "If she's alive, then someone went to a great deal of trouble to make us believe that she had died. Someone with authority."I swallowed. "You think it's a trap?"He halted his pacing and turned to me. "I think it's dangerous."Fatal. That was a mild option.If my mother had been running for a decade, that indicated there were forces—forces beyond Victor and the Shadow Syndicate—who did not want her discovered.Nicholas's knuckles were white. "Why now? Why come u
Giselle's POVThe atmosphere was charged, a standoff of furious silences and unwilling loyalties. My gaze locked onto Victor, every part of me refusing the notion of colluding with him.And yet…I stood before my mother—Elaine Rothschild, the woman I'd believed dead ten years ago—seething at her in anger and betrayal. She was standing over me, unruffled, her bright blue eyes displaying no guilt for all her lies."You want me to trust him?" My voice was cold, accusatory. "After everything he's done?"Victor grinned, his ego never failing to get my motor revving. "Oh, sweetheart, don't be ridiculous. You and I? We're a whole lot more than you realize we are."Nicholas intervened, his body coiled like a cat ready to pounce. "You don't speak to her like that, Victor."Victor just smiled. "Easy, big brother. We're all of us in this together now. Aren't we, Elaine?"Our mother winced, pressing her temples. "Enough. This isn't a matter of personal grudges. This is about surviving."I smiled.
Giselle's POVThe atmosphere in the grand ballroom seemed to grow heavy all at once. My hands curled tightly around my champagne flute as I kept watching across the room at the man. The Dominion emblem glinted on his ring finger, a subtle declaration that I already belonged to him.I moved quietly, my voice low as I addressed Nicholas. "We have a problem."His body stiffened immediately. "Where?"I tilted my head slightly towards the man on the balcony. "There. He's tagged."Nicholas looked where I'd looked, his expression darkening. "How many do you think?"I quickly counted heads in the room. Any joke, any sociable conversation, any raised glass—could be exploited by The Dominion."Minimum a few," I breathed. "Perhaps more."Victor stepped closer, his usual smugness overruled by something sinister. "We have to go."I shook my head. "We leave now, we make it a guarantee that we know. They'll come no matter what."Nicholas took a hard breath. "Then we will have to turn the tables on t
(Giselle's POV)I was wide awake. The hotel room was too quiet, too quiet for the chaos of thoughts churning in my brain. The ceiling fan creaked pointlessly above me, creating shadow performances on the cream-colored walls. I flipped onto my side, the silk sheets sticking, and stared at the bright face of my phone. No message. No call.Patrick hadn't called in days.I was predestined to be consumed by the Miss World pageant of beauty—the repetitious rehearsal runs, dress fittings, and television spots. I was the face everyone longed to see, the name on every billboard, the woman who had it all. It was all only illusion for me today, though, a sparkly diversion from hurt set on clinging.I winced and sat up, wrapping a robe around me. The door to the balcony was ajar, and the smell of sea breeze wafted in. I went out barefoot, arms wrapped around myself as cold tiles tiptoed acros
(Giselle's POV)I was wide awake. The hotel room was too quiet, too quiet for the chaos of thoughts churning in my brain. The ceiling fan creaked pointlessly above me, creating shadow performances on the cream-colored walls. I flipped onto my side, the silk sheets sticking, and stared at the bright face of my phone. No message. No call.Patrick hadn't called in days.I was predestined to be consumed by the Miss World pageant of beauty—the repetitious rehearsal runs, dress fittings, and television spots. I was the face everyone longed to see, the name on every billboard, the woman who had it all. It was all only illusion for me today, though, a sparkly diversion from hurt set on clinging.I winced and sat up, wrapping a robe around me. The door to the balcony was ajar, and the smell of sea breeze wafted in. I went out barefoot, arms wrapped around myself as cold tiles tiptoed across my toes. Miami city lights glowed far away, a city of dreams and deception."Why are you doing this, Pat
(Patrick's POV)Sunlight fought with the thick cream curtains over the hotel window. I leaned against the window, phone and coffee in hand. Nothing. No call. No missed call. Still nothing from Giselle. The silence shattered as oppressive as ever, weighing on my chest like a boulder.Becky slept on the couch in the living room. She had insisted on being near me, but I had not been talkative with her. I had not been capable of fighting or of explaining. My mind was with Giselle—her vanishing, uncertainty, question marks that fill every moment of consciousness.I flipped through my album, where I stopped on a picture of Giselle taken at her last public appearance. She had worn that stunning blue dress, the one that shimmered as moonlight on rippling water. I remembered her laughter that evening, how it stayed in my head even when the paparazzi had stopped snapping pictures.A knock at the door broke my concentration. I opened it to Clara, my assistant, who stood in the doorway with a fol
(Patrick's POV)The sun dipped low as I stood by the balcony door of the hotel suite, a wind in Miami's air brushing my face with whispers of destiny. I barely slept in the last two nights, and Giselle's silence was becoming too deafening. I checked my phone again, trying hard to call hers. Still busy.Becky had been quiet all morning. Too quiet. And I was too distracted to realize it. I just needed to hear Giselle, see her, know that she was alive."Patrick," my mother had tried to say a little while ago, trying to deflect the subject, "Becky's issue. she needs your help.""She needs my help because she fell trying to get my phone," I had answered, my voice colder than I intended it to be.Becky hadn't spoken to me since. And I hadn't spoken to her. I couldn't pretend, not with everything unraveling inside me.My ringing phone jolted me out of sleep. It was Debbie."Hey, Debbie," I said, already sensing the panic in her voice."Patrick, please. I need you to drive me to the contestan
Giselle's POVMy silence and Patrick's lingered behind us once we'd spoken. Not the type that creeps up and skinnies and tickles with anxiety, but instead a dense variety, filled by both parties and left untouched due to neither wishing to add any more bulk into the world. I had plopped on the couch, wrapped my legs tightly into my center, soft light from the lamp in the room casting limp shadow on the ceiling.He hadn't pushed. He hadn't insisted. That alone was reassuring and unnerving. Patrick was the one who always stepped back when I stepped back, and for some reason that always made me feel safer with him. But tonight I had wished he would have insisted—wished he would have pushed me to tell him everything I had kept locked inside.Because the truth was choking me.Victor had called me again.I didn't reply. I couldn't. His final message he ever sent just lingered in my inbox, unread: "You'll never be safe without me."He was right, at least—everything had felt unreal. Because I
Patrick's POVThe pounding waves on the beach was the raw, distant sound of the thunder. I was standing in front of the balcony of the suite, looking out over the ocean. The sky was a darker blue with an orange tint to it as the sun started to set. The peace of what I was seeing was such a contrast to the storm that raged inside of me.I had hoped that time would mend the gap between me and Giselle. But distance and silence could not remove the pain, the disillusion, or the deceptions that had built up between us. I had hoped that if I came here, if I was merely there, I could mend everything.But even then, after I'd made the reconciliation gesture, part of me was like walking on glass.I hadn't spoken to Giselle in reality since we'd talked on the beach. She'd retreated again into her silence, and this wall was there between us. One I wasn't sure I could climb.The ring of my phone reminded me of what was real. It was Grace on the phone."Patrick," her voice grated across the phone.
Giselle's POVThe ocean breeze swept over my hotel room floor-to-ceiling sheer flowing curtains, stroking my skin with the softness of silk. I was standing at the glass, arms crossed, looking out toward the horizon where the sky was dancing with the waves. Miami was another type of wildness—noisy and restive. But I was weary of twinkly lights and further cacophony of applause.My phone went quiet once more. No calls. No texts. Patrick hadn't called or texted me since that strange message he'd sent two nights before—the one where his voice broke, like he was holding something fragile and already letting it go.I wrapped my robe more securely around me and went to the dresser. My hair smelled of vanilla and gardenias, my skin still warm from the bath I'd indulged in a little while ago. Today was meant to be peaceful, but this ache was in my breast. As if something was waking up, something was moving. and I wasn't prepared."Ma'am," one of my guards knocked on the door, entering. "Miss G
Giselle's POVI couldn't breathe.Not because my practice corset was too tight—though it was stuck to me like a vice—because the dressing room walls kept closing in with every untexted moment, every unspoken one, every time I blinked and Patrick's face flashed before me in the darkness.He was there for me.I knew the moment he walked into the lobby. My father had eyes and ears everywhere, but even if he hadn't, I would have known. The air around me shifted. My heart shifted. My phone was in off mode when Becky called me, crying, accusingly, bewildered. I did not need the explanations. Not yet. My world had swerved too far from its axis. I had wished for silence to put it on a straight axis once more.But silence was treacherous. It betrayed things into me I did not want to know."Giselle," my assistant Sarah had called at the door. "Five minutes before last rehearsal. Ready?" "Coming," I had replied, rising from the velvet couch and regarding myself in the mirror.The woman in th
Patrick's POVI couldn't sleep.I reclined on the hotel bed looking up at the ceiling fan, its soft whirring mingling with the hum in my head. I was in Miami but felt more distant from all I ever knew. The soft glow of the bedside lamp cast shadows with dance motions on the wall. My phone was silent, face down on the nightstand.Giselle had yet to call me back.I rolled over on my side, pulling the comforter up over my chest like it could shield me from the shame crawling all over my body. Why wasn't she answering? Why wasn't her number still open? Dozens of questions ran through my mind—had something happened to her? Or was she just. done with me?Becky's face remembered, scowling in anger when she pilfered my phone from off my person earlier. How she crumpled. The terror in the shriek she let out. The crying, the trembling of her hands laid over her belly. And I? I had taken a step back. Like a coward.I groaned and sat up straight, running my hand through my hair. I needed some air