ains, and blindingly clean air, catering to the ultra-wealthy seeking discretion. Elara's rented villa, nestled high on the sl

in Switzerland

dustries-had faded, leaving behind a grueling, constant exhaustion. She wasn't

onducting high-stakes meetings with her VP, Clara, via encrypted video links. But the steel-gray suit was r

scent of the mountain air doing nothing to q

h and German, ensuring minimal conversation. Elara had told Frau Steiner she was recuper

mirrored the cage she had built around her heart. She had fled the city to protect her child, but every fiber

er professional facade was

incaid pulled back his acquisition team. He suffered a public relations hit, but his stock is fine. He

ays by brute force. We play with finesse. Clara, I need you to initiate th

... feeling better, E

smoothly, forcing a thin, tired smile. "I need to

ausea wasn't just morning sickness; it was all-day sickness, a constant, dizzying com

n the memory; he was primal, his gray eyes dark with untamed possession. He had treated her b

ate

keeping her upright. If she let go of the anger, she feared the despair would drown her.

er armor. It was her resolve. You will no

floor, shivering despite the villa's radiant heat, her body wracked by spasms of vomiting. This wa

r reflection was startling: sunken eyes, pale skin, hair tangled from

s and encrypted emails, setting up a secret, cash-only appointment in two w

to cry, not from pain, but from profound, exhauste

ed out, her fingers pressing into the small, still-flat area. She was beginning to un

pest betrayal of her logical mind. The child was Kincaid's, yes, but it was hers to

l prot

the father. She vowed to make it strong, to make it fierce, to raise it to

h, he wouldn't see a child; he would see an asset. He would take it, contr

the grainy, discreetly taken photographs of Elara's villa. Voss was Kaius Kincaid's personal "f

Kaius were clini

property. No external contact except f

cted: mostly crackers, broth, and ging

vening. Appears extremely pale. Observed repeated motions of

ius Kincaid, who was sitting in his office, no longer

solating, restricting her diet to fight nausea, and exhibiting extreme physical exhaustion. The

long moment. The silence w

She stole

focus. The financial war was irrelevant. The corporate takeover wa

local. Someone who can get closer. I want to know when she leaves the house, where she goes, and who s

hy not simply confront her

egal battle, Voss. I want her back. She needs to be weak enough, scared enough, to

ch. She wrapped herself in an oversized hooded jacket and thick scarf, disguisin

risp, clean air felt invigorating, b

ollided with a tall, well-dressed man who

smooth and cultured. He was handsome, perhaps in his late forties, with striking blu

, trying to pull her scarf higher ov

y. "You must be new here. This mountain air can be very taxing on the un

pecific, too personal. She was dressed like a

eed," she replied sharp

areful, Miss... I'm Dr. Petrov. I just moved into the village. Sometimes, the

was assessing, analytical, and alarmingly familiar. It wa

a piece of friendly advice from a specialist to a woman who needs rest: If you have secrets, Miss

ked away, his enormous dog

knew. He knew she was sick. He knew she was hiding. And th

ted villa, the quiet sanctuary suddenly f

's here. H