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Chapter 3

Word Count: 1532    |    Released on: 07/05/2026

g Island was crisp and sharp, carrying t

ed leaves clung to her stained apron and coated the back of her throat. She worked in silence, her movements steady and practiced as she carefully poured the dark, steaming, almost-bla

gh-performance car engines shattered the

the greenhouse door with her hip. The cool air hit her flushed face as she crossed the manicured lawn, her worn sneakers leaving dark p

ast her with a speed that belied his years. His face was flushed a deep, alarming crimson, swea

e wall for support, his chest heaving. "The mat

r body into the shadows behind a massive marble pillar.

their presence. In the center, enthroned on the plush velvet sofa like a queen receiving tribute, sat Eleonora Church. She was tiny and ancient and radiated more pure authority tha

lding out a silver tea tray with a cup of Earl Grey, her face stretched into a smile so desperate and sic

ide, removed from the

of his legs. His hands were shoved deep into his pockets, his posture radiating a bone-deep boredom. His face

ached into her crocodile-skin designer bag and slammed the broken

ed, her voice ringing through the cavernous room with the clarity of a bell.

ded into the living room wearing a pale pink silk nightgown, her blonde hair to

trical intake of breath. "Oh my god! That's mine! I just

grabbed Celia's hands in both of hers, her eyes glistening with sudden, over

y bewildered by the sudden, intense physical contact from this terrifyingly powerful old w

a security scanner. He catalogued everything-the messy, salon-blonde hair, the sleep-creas

ad a jawline carved from ice. She moved with lethal, coiled precision. She had looked at him-him, Dominic Church-w

pped like a stone into cold water. She understood exactly what was happening-the chain of events that had led

ains of gifts. Her eyes went wide, then wider-the pupils dilating with manic, euphoric greed. She lunged forward and grabbed Ce

er voice pitching up into a shrill, near-hysterical register. "She is an a

hat had crawled onto the dinner table. He turned his head a fraction of an inch, giving Leo a subtl

development contract," Dominic said, each word flat and cold as a stone drop

"No! Absolutely not! We are not paying them off like servants!" Her voice rose, fillin

r looked like she was going to pass out from sheer, unadulterated ecstasy-her fa

th set in a hard line. A deep, crimson blush crept up her neck and flooded her cheeks. She ducked her head, letting her t

d audibly. A thick muscle feathered along his jawline, pulsing wi

the mountain of gifts-it was a circus, and she wanted no part of it. Getting tangled up with a paranoid billionaire with

bowl and turned on her heel, intending to

brass plant stand. The metal shrieked against the marble floor-a sharp, high-pit

hallway with the instantaneous, preda

oman's back. She wore a faded, oversized sweater that swallowed her frame. Her dark hair was pulled up in

bout that silhouette-the angle of those shoulders, the defiant tilt of that head-sent a jolt of recognition through his nervous system that his co

ts. He stared at the empty hallway l

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