Chapter 1: The Night the Lights Flickered
The gala was meant to be the pinnacle of Marcus Thorne's career.
Elegance, champagne, the elite of the city — until the lights flickered.
He held his daughter, Lily, who was sobbing against his chest, her small arms locked around his neck.
The room felt cold, the air thick with something he couldn't name yet.
"Marcus." A voice cut through the murmuring crowd — smooth, amused, entirely too pleased with itself.
"You brought the help's daughter to a black-tie event?"
Marcus turned.
Diane Ashford stood by the shattered remains of a crystal centerpiece, champagne glass in hand, not a hair out of place.
"She's my daughter," Marcus said.
"Not the help's."
"Of course she is," Diane said, smiling at the crowd rather than at him.
"How silly of me.
I simply assumed a girl sobbing on the floor of the Whitmore ballroom belonged to someone who understood how children are meant to behave in public."
Lily's grip tightened.
"Daddy, she pushed me.
I didn't do anything, I was just standing by the table and she—"
"That's enough, sweetheart," Marcus said softly, though his eyes never left Diane.
"Careful, Marcus," Diane said, lowering her voice just for him.
"You're two votes away from losing this contract entirely.
My husband sits on that board.
Do you really want to make a scene over a broken glass and a crying child?"
Marcus looked down at his daughter's tear-streaked face, then back at Diane's untouched, satisfied smile.
"You knocked her into that table on purpose," he said.
"I saw you do it."
Diane's smile didn't move.
May you like
"Prove it."
Marcus reached into his jacket, pulled out his phone, and turned the screen toward her.
