Chapter 3

Rowan Yates—heir to the Yates mineral operation, a family that supplied raw materials to half the syndicates on the coast—and Sterling Chase, whose family ran the dirtiest private equity fund in four states, heard the noise and walked over.

"Miss Steele, there's no need to hurt yourself to win sympathy, is there? Weakness isn't a bargaining chip in this world—it's a death sentence.

Sterling gave a lazy smile. “Is there anything our Vivian Steele wouldn’t do? We’re probably all in that little notebook of hers—stepping stones for the great heiress.”

Rowan pressed his fingers to his forehead. "Vivian, you've already taken everything from Noelle. She was actually happy tonight—for once. Can't you stop performing for five minutes?"

“If you really want the spotlight so badly,” he said evenly, “I’ll dance with you. Would that be enough to satisfy your ego?"

I staggered to my feet. “Move.”

“Vivian!”

Rowan lost patience. His hand shot out and seized my wrist. "If it weren't for Sterling and me looking out for you back then, you'd still be nobody!"

I tried to pull away. He twisted harder—

*Crack.*

A soft, sickening sound. Pain exploded from my wrist.

I doubled over.

Rowan froze. He stared at his own hand as if he hadn’t meant to do that.

“You…” His voice went tight. “You pulled that hard just to run after a man?”

I bit down on my lip, clutching my right wrist with my left hand. Cold sweat slid down my temple, dripping into my eyes.

Sterling pulled a thin, cold smile. “It’s nothing. Our Vivian has weathered worse storms. A little injury like this is nothing compared to what Noelle has suffered.”

The pain made the edges of my vision go dark. But I looked at him and laughed.

“You’re right. It’s not enough.”

I let go of my wrist. The joint hung at a wrong angle, swelling fast. My forearm looked like a broken branch.

Sterling’s lazy smile finally faded. He looked away.

Rowan’s voice was tight. “Stay here. I’ll call a doctor.”

“No.” I pulled the corner of my mouth. “If word gets out, Grandfather won’t be pleased.”

“You’re insane.” Rowan’s voice shook with anger. “You only ever care about that damn dignity. Even when Noelle had a fever so high she was seizing, you locked her in the attic and kept entertaining guests—all for your perfect heiress image.”

His chest heaved. “Always calculating. Always putting your reputation and your plans above everything else.”

He turned and walked away.

Sterling shook his head. "Vivian, it's one dance. Nobody asked you. Did you really have to do this to yourself?"

His eyes flickered with mockery. “Or are you still playing the game, waiting to see who breaks first?”

I didn’t answer. I turned and walked toward the back corridor.

The wind cut cold against my skin.

I leaned against the wall and slid down until I was sitting on the floor.

With my left hand, I touched my swollen wrist. The pain made me shudder. But this time, I didn’t let go.

The bone still connected. The pain still connected.

That was enough.

At nine o'clock, I returned to the Steele estate—past the iron gates, past the armed guards who checked vehicles with mirrors on poles, past the dogs. My father was waiting in the study. The room smelled of cigar smoke and old leather—and beneath that, the metallic edge of something darker.

“You saw what happened tonight,” he said. “Ashton Shaw doesn’t want to marry you.”

I didn’t answer.

“Your grandfather is old. Your marriage needs to happen soon.”

“You also saw that I’ve just been humiliated,” I said. “I’m in no state to marry anyone right now.”

He looked up. “Then what do you want?”

"Give me the Crestfall City territory to run," I said. "Three years. I'll prove I can manage an operation."

After three years, I’ll marry whoever you choose.”

He studied me. “Seven days. Your grandfather comes back in seven days. By then, I want to see you married to a 'suitable' match."