Chapter 1 - The Ring and the Razor
The dial tone rang out three times, sharp and grating against my eardrums, before it abruptly cut off into a click.
"Daphne?" Tristan’s voice came through the speaker, muffled by the heavy bass of music thumping in the background. He sounded annoyed, his tone thick with the slight slur of expensive whiskey. "I’m in the middle of a meeting with the venue coordinator. What do you want?"
I stood frozen in the center of my living room, the rain continuing its relentless assault against the glass windows of the penthouse. Behind me, Sloan remained dead silent near the kitchen island, her eyes darting nervously between my trembling hands and the imposing figure of Richard Langum.
Richard hadn't moved an inch. Standing over six feet tall, draped in a bespoke charcoal three-piece suit, he resembled a dark king presiding over a court of fools. His piercing slate-gray eyes remained anchored on my face, watching the color drain from my cheeks with terrifying focus.
"Tristan," I choked out, my voice quivering despite my desperate attempt to sound composed. "Where are you? You said you were at your apartment."
A heavy sigh whistled through the receiver. "I told you, babe. I’m handling wedding stuff. Look, I’m busy. Can we talk tomorrow?"
"I saw you," I blurted out, the dam finally breaking inside my chest. The horror of what I had witnessed two hours ago at the lounge flooded back—Tristan’s hands wrapped around the waist of a blonde woman, his mouth pressed against her neck while his ringless fingers gripped a glass of champagne. "I saw you at the Velvet Lounge, Tristan! I saw her!"
Silence stretched across the line for two agonizing seconds. Then came a sharp, cold scoff.
"You followed me?" Tristan’s voice dropped all pretense of affection, turning harsh and combative. "Unbelievable. You’re tracking my location on your birthday? You really are as crazy and needy as everyone says."
"You cheated on me!" I cried out, hot tears finally spilling over my lashes, scalding my cheeks. "We got engaged yesterday!"
"Engaged?" Tristan sneered loudly enough for the sound to leak out of the phone speaker into the silent room. "Daphne, grow up! That park stunt yesterday was for my family’s PR team! My father’s firm needs the publicity, and aligning my name with the late Arthur Sterling’s daughter gives us the clout we need! Did you actually think I wanted to settle down with a penniless, emotional wreck like you?"
My breath hitched in my throat. I couldn't speak. The betrayal felt like a physically violent blow, knocking every lungful of air out of my body.
"And let's be honest," Tristan continued, his voice dripping with venomous amusement. "You’re not innocent here, Daphne. Everyone in the city knows who pays your penthouse rent. You’re warming Richard Langum’s bed while playing the innocent golden girl. You’re nothing but his pampered little puppet. So don't preach to me about fidelity when you’re sleeping with your father’s best friend!"
Click.
The line went dead.
The room plunged into an suffocating silence. The phone slipped from my numb fingers, crashing onto the hardwood floor with a dull thud. I stood there, shivering, my hands clutched over my face as sob after sob tore through my chest.
"Daphne..." Sloan whispered, taking a cautious step forward, her face pale with shock. "Oh my god... that absolute bastard..."
Before Sloan could reach me, a heavy, warm presence closed the distance between us.
Richard stepped into my personal space. The scent of dark amber, cedarwood, and rain enveloped me. Without a word, his broad hand reached out, his long, calloused fingers gently catching my chin and lifting my face upward.
His slate-gray eyes were no longer cold or amused. They were blazing with a dark, terrifying tempest of absolute fury.
"He hung up on you," Richard said softly. His voice was smooth, low, and laced with a lethal calmness that made the hairs on the back of my neck stand up.
"Richard... I..." I tried to pull away, overcome with shame, but his grip on my chin remained firm yet impeccably gentle.
"He took your tears, Daphne," Richard continued, his thumb moving up to wipe a stray tear from beneath my eye. "And he dared to stain your name with mine."
He turned his head slightly toward the door where his personal security chief, a broad-shouldered man named Vance, stood in the shadow of the entryway.
"Vance," Richard commanded softly, never breaking eye contact with me.
"Yes, Mr. Langum?" Vance replied instantly.
"Find Tristan Vance. Block his family's credit lines, freeze their corporate assets, and notify their board of directors that Langum Enterprises is pulling all investment capital from their firm effective immediately."
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Sloan gasped loudly from the kitchen. "Richard... that will destroy his family’s business by morning!"
"That," Richard murmured, his eyes darkening as he stared into mine, "is merely the down payment."
